There was nothing quite like a visit with old friends to set Salim’s head on straight. And Calista was one of his oldest. He considered himself extremely fortunate that, these days, she happened to live in a mansion in the outskirts of Madrid.

He was less lucky that her latest husband was constantly buzzing around, as were a few of his friends. Not that any of them were unpleasant people, but it kept him from being able to talk to Calista about the situation he now found himself in. As a confidant of many years, since he was at school, he at least knew that she had experience with this kind of thing.

Even if it had been many, many years since he’d needed this kind of advice.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the kitchen, twisting orange peels into drinks, that he got his chance.

“You know we have people for that,” Calista said from the doorway. Looking at her now, she looked the way she did back at school. A little less bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, maybe. But steadier, too.

“I know. But they never do it just the right way.”

Calista smiled and came to join him at the kitchen island.

“Not like we used to. Remember those gin and tonics that we made when we were sixteen…”

Salim smiled at the memory.

“When we used the wrong kind of water, and they tasted completely foul?”

Calista smiled back.

“Those were the ones.”

They stood for a while, sharing the memory, before Calista spoke again with a businesslike tone, her fiery Spanish accent only accentuating her manner.

“All right, orange boy, out with it. Why are you here?”

Salim paused for just a moment before he continued working on the drinks.

“Can’t I come visit an old friend while I’m in town?” he asked.

“You can,” Calista answered. “But you don’t. And something is wrong with you. You think I can’t tell? I know you.”

This was just what he’d come here to talk to her about, but he still found it hard to broach the subject.

“I’m in town for business,” he said, instead. “But I figured I’d come by. Accept the invitation for once.”

“Oh, yes,” Calista said, leaning against the kitchen island and picking up one of the half-prepared drinks. “Your little dance venture.”

Salim’s blood rose at her calling it that. And, although he tried to hide it, he saw Calista notice.

“Oh, don’t like that, do you? This is all to do with Nikolai, isn’t it? It always is with you two.”

“No,” Salim said instinctively, before correcting himself. “I mean yes, it’s to do with Nikolai.”

“Always getting you in trouble. You’d think it would have been long enough by now that even you would have learned.”

The words she chose were harsh, but her tone wasn’t. And her meaning wasn’t, either. He’d known her long enough to know that.

“It’s all gone wrong,” Salim said, more honest even than he had meant to be. He stood, head hanging over the kitchen island.

Calista stared at him for some time, her face a mixture of confusion and concern.

“This is something new for you, isn’t it?”

Salim nodded.

“I’m guessing there’s a woman involved.”

At that, Salim laughed.

“Is it that obvious?”

Calista sipped her drink.

“Only to people with eyes and brains. And a day or two’s experience with men. So, there’s a woman. You care for her. And Nikolai cares for her? Oh, please don’t be as predictable as all that.”

Salim shook his head sharply.

“No, you’re wrong there. Nikolai doesn’t care for her. Not at all.”

Calista chuckled.

“Well, that’s better for you, I think. But then, what’s the problem? You care for her and he doesn’t. Women are smarter than you men seem to think we are. She’ll figure that out in a heartbeat.”

Salim smiled. That hadn’t been what he’d come here to ask her, but he felt reassured all the same.

“No, that’s not what the problem is,” he said. “It’s not Nikolai. It’s me. I’ve been dishonest.”

“Ooh,” Calista groaned. “Now it all comes out. So you don’t care for her.”

Again, she’d played her little game of offending him without meaning to.

“No, I do. I definitely do.”

She looked at him knowingly.

“And yet, you stand here, telling me you’re being dishonest with her. This is not a hard problem, Salimito. You’ve been dishonest with a woman you care about, so you tell her the truth.”

Salim shook his head.

“It’s not as simple as all that. I don’t know how to tell her, and even if I did, now isn’t the right time. But I don’t know if I can wait.”

“If there is one thing I’ve learned in all my time,” Calista said, “it’s that it’s never the right time to do something you don’t want to do.”

She let that rest with him for a moment before she spoke again.

“And there you have it. There is my advice to you. Now, come enjoy the afternoon before you go and ignore it.”

She picked up a tray of drinks and headed back out to where the rest of the party was waiting, expecting Salim to follow.

And follow he did. He even did his best to enjoy the calm, laid-back conversations over afternoon drinks, and give himself a break from thinking about Ophelia and how he would tell her about his arrangement with Nikolai. And, before it even got to that point, how he would extricate himself from his arrangement with Nikolai in the first place.

He half-thought he had dozed off and was dreaming when he heard his friend’s name being spoken.

“Oh, Nikolai! So good of you to make it out here. But I thought you said you were going to be too busy to join us?”

Salim’s eyes shot up to meet Nikolai’s, and the two men stared at each other exactly as long as they could without the rest of the room remarking on it.

“Yes, I had planned to be. But the business arrangement I meant to make has hit a slight snag.”

Calista laughed, and the sound brought Salim instantly back to when they were all at school together.

“And that snag was Salim, was it?”

“Darling, what do you mean?”

Calista’s husband spoke up for one of the few times during the afternoon.

“Salim and Nikolai were always in competition with one another when we were at school. And, from what I hear, it’s only gotten worse since we’ve been out.”

There was some general laughter and discussion about old grudges, but Salim barely listened. Instead, his attention was on Nikolai, as he picked up a drink from the tray that Salim had prepared and sat down next to him.

“You’ve done well so far, my friend,” he said when he had sat down, quietly enough so that the rest of the room couldn’t hear. “Buying the company was a good opening move. I think you might get her if you know how to reel her in properly. But then, maybe that’s your weakness…”

Salim felt his skin crawl at his friend’s words.

“I’m not ‘reeling her in’, Nikolai. She’s not a fish.”

He spoke a little bit louder—he couldn’t help himself—but he still did his best to keep the volume below what the rest of the room could hear.

Nikolai shrugged.

“Not a fish, maybe, but quite a prize. But I wouldn’t go counting your millions just yet. Don’t forget, you’re heading into my territory next.”

Nikolai felt like a fly buzzing around Salim’s shoulder. But, just like a fly, Salim had a feeling that the more he tried to shake him off, the more he would bother him.

“I’m not counting my millions,” Salim said, and he knew his tone and volume were getting out of hand. “I don’t care about that any more. The bet’s off, and you should be thanking me for that, because you were going to lose, anyway.”

“Oh,” said Nikolai, his own voice quiet and fully under control. “After next week, I think not.”

Salim wanted to get up and walk away. Calista would understand—she knew Nikolai as well as he did. But then, Salim knew Nikolai well enough to know that when he was talking like this, he had a secret to share.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “We’re not even going to St. Petersburg. We’re going to Moscow.”

Again, that snake-like smile.

“You’re going to Russia. The owner of the Moscow Ballet is an old family friend—one of the benefits of being born into the business. I wouldn’t miss your evening there for the world.”

For the first time in all the time he had known Nikolai, Salim felt nervous. In all the years they had been friends and rivals, their competition had always had a playful edge to it. Nothing had ever really been harmful. Nothing serious. But he knew it wasn’t that way with all the people who crossed Nikolai’s family in general. He’d heard rumors, and while he had always pretended, for his friends’ sake, to ignore them, they were from too credible of sources to be wholly dismissed.

For the first time, Salim considered what it would be like to actually be Nikolai’s enemy. It was not a pleasant thought.

“What are you saying, Nikolai?”

Nikolai shrugged, and Salim hated the way he was so practiced in making everything seem like it meant nothing to him, even when Salim knew very well that it did.

“I’m only saying that sometimes, in order to level the playing field, you have to burn it down.”

No, being Nikolai’s enemy was not a pleasant thought at all.

“I could cancel,” he said, as much to gauge Nikolai’s response as anything.

But he knew he couldn’t. He was trapped by his own care and ambition for the Williamsburg Ballet. The deal Tomas had struck with the Moscow Ballet had been one of the greatest opportunities that the Williamsburg Company was likely to get in the near future, and quite a skillful maneuver on the old manager’s part.

Pulling them out of it would be suicide for the company’s reputation, and would hurt everyone that Salim had come to care for.

“No,” Nikolai said, clearly knowing the facts just as well as Salim did. “You won’t.”

That was it. That was enough.

Salim stood, made a quick, curt apology to Calista, and was gone. He didn’t feel capable of fancy drinks and light conversation. Not anymore.