Being a prince, even a prince that wasn’t directly in the line of succession, meant many things. It meant wealth and a reputation to maintain. It meant both freedom and responsibility. But, above all, it meant attention.

Salim was used to attention, and he was used to molding it the way he needed. Public speaking, he’d found, was always a matter of give and take. It was easier, in rooms like this, when he could actually be up close and personal with his audience, to see their reactions in real time. It was harder in huge groups, where he had to extrapolate a bit more.

He didn’t envy his father, or his brother—who would succeed him—and their required televised addresses. That, he imagined, must be difficult. Far more difficult, Salim imagined, than winning over a small group of people who knew that it was in their best interest to like him, even if it wasn’t their first instinct in the wake of losing their former director.

One by one, he saw them coming around. He tried to keep the address as short as he could, while still having the required effect. He knew he couldn’t stop talking until he had at least a majority on his side. After that, the ones he’d managed to bring around would do his job for him.

It was hard not to look at Ophelia.

She was the reason for him being here, sure, but it was imperative that she not know that, if this was going to work at all. He needed her to be interested in him enough to avoid Nikolai’s advances, and that would never work if she knew he’d bought out an entire company just to have a reason to be close to her.

Still, in that moment, she was as bewitching as she had been in the alley, and as she had been on stage. Both those times, her body had seemed like a perfect means of expression and amplification of her feelings. On stage, it had been everything and anything it needed to be. In the alley, it had been pre-show focus and preparation.

But now? Now, it was cold, hardened resentment. She was rigid and unyielding, and none of the things he said—none of the little jokes and asides that got a laugh or seemed to sway other members of the company—got through to her.

He wanted to search her face for signs that it wasn’t solely the case. He wanted to discover if there was something, anything else there. It was important to his purpose here that there was.

He closed the speech when he had won over his majority, and began seeing signs of some of them growing bored. Tomas had, as requested, slipped out earlier on. Salim needed him out of the way if this was going to work, and while Tomas didn’t know what Salim was trying to make work, he’d agreed easily enough.

“And now,” Salim said, gesturing for a stagehand to roll the drinks cart onto the stage, “I have a little introductory present for you. Tomas gave you champagne to celebrate the past, but I’ve brought you a little something to celebrate the future. It’s four days until your next performance, ladies and gentlemen. I do hope you enjoy!”

Salim noted—with no small amount of pride—that the applause he received at the end of his speech was much more enthusiastic and genuine than had been the applause he’d gotten at the beginning. And, as the more party-oriented members of the company began swarming the drinks cart, he stood to one side and began receiving the personal introductions that he knew were coming.

Those were easy. Mostly, the dancers just wanted a little bit of face time with the new boss to try to make an impression, and Salim’s main objective here was to make them feel that they had done so. This was easier with some than with others. However, he tried to leave even those who should have known better than to greet their new boss in their current state with the feeling that it had been a positive interaction.

He let part of his focus wander to the drinks cart. He’d spared no expense in assembling the gift, and though it was a transparent bribe to start things off on the right foot, it seemed—at least for some—to be an effective one. Over and over, he heard their expressions of delighted surprise. For those that chose to take advantage of it, tonight would be an extraordinary night of getting to sample some of the finest wines and liquors in existence.

After the way Ophelia had responded to him—or, rather, how she hadn’t responded—he knew better than to expect that she would be among the dancers coming up to introduce themselves. But still, he made himself wait until everyone who seemed inclined had had their say to him before he went on his rounds to the principals.

He started with Ryan, and moved on to another couple of solo dancers before he allowed himself to approach Ophelia. A part of him was worried that she would attempt to slip off into the night before he got a chance to greet her, but mostly, he felt confident that—whatever her feelings about losing her mentor—she would naturally be curious about him. Enough that that curiosity, if nothing else, would compel her to stay until he got to her.

By the time he did, the party was back up again in full swing, and Ophelia’s companions in sitting quietly and sticking to the champagne had dwindled.

“Ophelia, I presume?”

“You do,” she said, quickly and sharply, and then, almost as quickly, seemed to regret it. “I’m sorry, that was—”

“Completely understandable, considering. I know this is a shock. And I know that big transitions like this generally happen with a great deal more warning, and not in the middle of a run.”

She was eyeing him carefully, and Salim was immediately relieved. The mixture of frustration, curiosity, and attraction that he’d been so hoping to find in her eyes was all there. He was relying on this reaction from her for this whole scheme to work, and finding it just as he anticipated gave him real, firm hope that he would be able to outdo his old rival.

“Then why did it? Why did you swoop in so quickly if you knew how disruptive it would be to all of us?”

There was no hiding the bitterness in her voice, and the regret at how harshly her words came out. The champagne and the emotional and physical exhaustion after the week and night she’d had must have helped with that, Salim figured. But no matter—the harsher she was with him now, and the more he was understanding and respectful and tolerating in turn, the more likely she would be to admire him for accommodating her in this trying time.

“In all honestly, I couldn’t help myself. And you were a part of that.”

The best lies weave in a little truth, he knew. But as soon as he said the words, he wondered if he hadn’t let a little too much truth in. She was instantly suspicious, and Salim found himself nervous in a way he couldn’t remember having been since he was a boy. Only the years of practice he’d had in controlling his emotions gave him the confidence to speak, knowing that his strange, unexplained nervousness wouldn’t be reflected in his voice.

“I was a part of that?”

Salim gave her a reassuring smile.

“Your performance. I was here for the opening show, and I must say, I was amazed. I’ve never seen anyone dance the way you do.”

Her suspicion was fading. This must be familiar territory for her, Salim thought. People giving her well-earned compliments for her performances. With the way the audience had been transfixed by the show…

“And I wasn’t the only one who thought so. I don’t know how well you can tell from the stage, but in the audience, the general feeling was quite clear. It’s quite a talent you have, to have that kind of effect over so many different people.”

He was laying it on too thick, now, he could feel. Traces of suspicion were reappearing in her face. The strange irony of it was that he was being entirely truthful. But if this was going to work, he needed more than to be genuine; he needed her to believe it, as well.

“So, you can see, I have to admit to a certain amount of selfishness.”

That was better. Curiosity was replacing the suspicion.

“How so?” she asked, and Salim felt a thrill go up the back of his neck.

He hadn’t heard her speak in a normal, relaxed way until now, and now that he had, he found himself surprised and intrigued. The tone of her voice was a little deeper than expected, and had a slight huskiness to it. It wasn’t the delicate, saccharine-sweet sort of sound you’d expect from a woman with such a petite, dancer’s body. It caught him slightly off guard, and he found that his response took a bit longer to come out than he would have liked.

“Oh…well, in grasping the opportunity for myself before anyone else gets the chance to. I couldn’t wait for the time that these sorts of negotiations normally take, and I certainly couldn’t wait for the end of the tour. I wanted in before then. When the world meets you, and—” he gestured around, “the rest of the company, of course…they’re going to be as amazed as I was. As amazed as everyone in that room was.

“I want my name associated with this company before then. I don’t want to come in afterwards when it’s all said and done and your reputation is already established across the globe. And I certainly don’t want to risk someone else scooping you up while I’m hesitating.”

He did his best not to show how intently he was focusing on her reaction, and the relief he felt at her accepting his motivations. But it made sense, after all. A girl like that would know her own talent, and every word out of Salim’s mouth was, in point of fact, the truth. That it was only a portion of the truth was irrelevant.

Ophelia raised her glass, indicating the drinks cart.

“You’re awfully generous for a man who claims to be selfish.”

Salim shrugged, and allowed a cocky grin to slide across his lips.

“Oh, that? A transparent bribe, I’m afraid. And besides, just because I was selfish in jumping on an opportunity as soon as I saw it, doesn’t mean I’m stingy. It just means I’m smart. I know Tomas was good for this company. I talked with him for quite a while about it, actually, but even if I’d just spoken to him briefly, that’s plain to see in his results.

“I don’t intend to do anything less than he did. If I can encourage and uplift the company in the same way as him, I’ll consider my time here a great success. It may take me a little time to really grasp how to do so, but I promise you: under my direction, the Williamsburg Ballet will reach heights you haven’t yet dreamed of.”

It was a strange thing to discover, as he went, that the more he talked, the truer it was. But all the same, he found himself getting caught up in it. How easy it would be to get lost and disappear into the role he’d set up for himself here. He’d had to make sure it seemed like a natural enough fit that he wouldn’t be questioned too deeply for it. Going from collecting art to collecting artists wasn’t so much of a stretch, after all.

The casual, graceful way Ophelia’s body relaxed, and the surprisingly attractive quality of her voice as she replied, made it easy for Salim to refocus on the task at hand.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m glad you think you do. As it stands, we’ve still got the things we’ve already dreamed of yet to do.”

Salim smiled, and basked in the way he saw her instinctively react to the warmth of his smile.

“Yes, of course. To London!”

He raised his glass, and was pleased to find that she only exhibited the slightest hesitation before she did the same.

“To London.”