Free The Last Dance by Kierney Scott

with the company, the look was often aimed at her, but tonight he was looking at Natasha.
    Georgina caught her gaze again and held it, silently telling the other dancer to be strong. Maxim tormented her more because he saw potential in Natasha. She needed to know that. Part of her wished she could stop and speak to her, but there was an invisible wall that separated the chorus from principal dancers. Natasha would not thank her if she breached it because it would only alienate her from the other dancers. She would have to weather this storm alone, the way Georgina had.
    “Would you like a lift home?” her partner Sergei asked as he walked past her dressing room. She had just finished taking her false lashes off. She would wash her face when she got home.
    “Please.” Normally Georgina enjoyed the short walk to her flat, but the ice was treacherous. No new snow had fallen to give her traction, so she would happily take her partner’s offer of a ride home. Plus she was safe from Roman if she was with Sergei, not that Sergei could offer her any physical protection. Roman dwarfed him, but Roman would not approach her in front of anyone. He was far to cunning for that.
    “Let me change and grab my coat.” She had left her formal winter coat at the Hermitage, so she had to make do with her puffy down jacket. It was certainly warm, but it made her look like she was wearing a sleeping bag. Luckily she had no one to impress tonight, or any other night really.
    “Take your time.”
    That was why she liked Sergei. He was considerate—that, and he was the only dancer in the company tall enough to be partnered with her. Georgina smiled as she shut the door to get changed.
    * * * *
    The ride home was quick because her apartment was only a few blocks from the theater. Sergei had turned on the heater, but the engine did not even have time to warm enough to heat the air.
    “Thanks. See you in the morning,” Georgina said when Sergei pulled up in front of her building.
    She hurried up the steps and unlocked the door, acutely aware of how vulnerable she was now. For whatever reason Roman had allowed her to live, but she could not depend on continued magnanimity. Her breath caught when she saw a new bouquet of peach roses in a vase at her front door. They must have been delivered while she was at the theater. “No,” she whispered, the word barely making it past her lips. A boulder plummeted to the pit of her stomach; her body shook from the realization that Pavel had another task for her. She clenched her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. It was too soon. Pavel could not expect her to have anything yet. No. Did he know she had failed? Was he giving her another target? No, he couldn’t expect that of her already. Surely she had paid her debts in full. No more. She could not do this anymore. Last night was a wake-up call. She needed a life. She had given up too much for ballet. The price was too high now.
    Georgina snatched the vase up and let the apartment door slam behind her. She did not wait this time; she had to know what Pavel wanted. She sank to the floor and found the rose in the dead center of the bouquet and pulled it clean from the stem. She separated the petals and searched. Nothing. It wasn’t there. Georgina shook her head. She pulled off the next rose and searched again. Still nothing. She tried a third and a fourth rose. It wasn’t there. One by one Georgina tore every rose from its long stem. Nothing. She could not find the message. “Shit,” she mumbled. Did she miss it?
    Frantically she rummaged through the scattered petals. Where was it? What did Pavel want? What would he do if she did not respond? Shit . She needed a plan. She had saved enough. She could go back to America. That had always been the retirement plan: open a residential ballet school in Montana so dancers would not have to move out of state to train the way she had. She could do this. She scrunched her eyes together. Oh God, she