Chapter Twenty-Three
Izzy spun, her leg flying out and in with each rotation. Her eyes caught the mirror each time her head snapped around. Faster, faster. Her thigh and calf burned. She almost had it. Just one more turn.
Yes! She’d done it. She stepped out of her spin, her muscles trembling from the exertion, but she’d completed the movement. Just like she used to. She rested her hands on her knees and hung her head as she caught her breath.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
She snapped her head up. Standing at the door was none other than the bastard himself. She gasped and nearly fell to the floor. She really should have locked the front door.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you again, darling.” Erik strode into the studio as if he owned the place, his broad shoulders swaying like he wore a cape that trailed behind him. Come to think of it, that was how he always moved, as if the world owed him something. Maybe it was how dancers were raised in Russia, or maybe it was just the air of superiority that he exuded with everyone in his life. Either way, nothing had changed since she’d left him in New York. He spread his arms wide and spun in a circle, his thick shoulder-length hair swaying as he did. “Cute little studio you’ve got here.”
She raised her chin. He didn’t intimidate her anymore. He didn’t have that kind of power over her. She turned off the music and grabbed a towel, swiping at the sweat dripping down her forehead. The distraction gave her a minute to collect her thoughts.
Every time she’d imagined running into Erik again, it had been in New York. Maybe at a gallery opening, wearing a stunning evening gown that hugged her body, draped on the arm of a handsome playboy who adored her. Or maybe at a fancy party where he’d never expect her to turn up and she’d shock him with her mere presence. Never in a million years had she ever expected him to come to Cedar Hill. As far as she knew, he had written her out of his life the minute she’d fell on the stage.
So what was he doing here now and what did he want from her?
“You look wonderful. And I see that you’ve been working out. I knew that the rumors of your retirement were just that. Rumors.”
She drew in a deep breath. He was trying to fluster her. But she wasn’t that weak girl anymore—she was a strong woman who knew what she wanted out of life. And it wasn’t Erik.
She spun around and squared her shoulders. “They weren’t rumors. I am retired from professional dancing. As you can tell, I opened up a studio so I can teach others. That’s the only dancing I’m doing now.”
“That’s not what it looks like from where I’m standing. I know you, Isabella. You would never stand to leave your career except on your own terms. You’re destined to go out at the top of your profession.”
She hated when he called her by her full name, the haughty tone he used when he spoke to her that way. He’d lived in the United States for years, but his accent was as thick as ever, like he was superior to everyone else because he was Russian.
But he did have a point. Her one regret was that she hadn’t been able to leave the company when she chose. On her own terms. That an injury had driven her away. “My knee is as good as it’s going to get. I couldn’t dance like I used to, even if I wanted to.”
He stepped up, crowding into her space.
Another thing she hated about him. Erik was big, tall, and by standing this close, he could look down on her. To remind her that she was small and weak and had once depended on him. “You’re wrong. I watched most of the routine. It was nothing short of spectacular. If you were dancing with me, you’d be in top form in no time.”
She took a step back. How did he always manage to twist a compliment into an insult? She was in good shape. Good enough, at least, for what she wanted out of life. And the notion that he could bring her back to top form was laughable. “Just say what you came here to say, Erik, so you can be on your way.”
“I want you to come back. I want us to dance together. We were wonderful before, and we can be again. I just know it.”
She sucked in a breath. “What?”
“You heard me. Come back to New York and take your rightful place in the company.”
“What happened with Brittany?” He had replaced her with her understudy, on stage and as his girlfriend. Oh, hell. Did he expect her to fall back into bed with him, too?
The man was delusional.
“My dear, Brittany is no Isabella Harper.”
The way he rolled her name over his tongue had her gritting her teeth. “She was good enough to replace me in the show… and in your bed.” She spit the words. Erik could claim all he wanted that he hadn’t been sleeping with her before Izzy’s injury, but she knew better. He’d been screwing Brittany since the day she’d joined the company. Always hedging his bets, she figured. Shoot, now that she thought about it, he was probably sleeping with someone else when they got together in the first place.
He stroked his hand up her arm, stepping up so they were almost nose to nose. “Oh, darling, she was no replacement for you. Just a mere… placeholder, until you could return. And I think now is that time.”
She shuddered and pulled her arm away from him. She refused to let him intimidate her by crowding into her space. “What’s really going on here, Erik? I don’t believe for a minute that you were hoping that I wasn’t really retiring. There has to be something else.”
His smile wavered. Just barely, and he recovered quickly. Yep, there was more to his request. He may walk in here like he did, but the bluster was typically just a cover. This time was no different. “Well, uh, the box just isn’t what it was when you headlined the show. Our benefactors, they are questioning whether Brittany is the right lead. And I agree. The best dancer to lead our company is you, Isabella. Come back and return to your place by my side, and we’ll take New York by storm.”
Her response stuck in her throat, her mouth dry. After the initial shock of her injury and the doctor’s prognosis that her career was over, she’d resolved herself to the fact that she would never dance again. At least not on stage. But the one thing she couldn’t deny was that Erik knew dancers. He wouldn’t lie about something that important, would he?
“I have a boyfriend.” She wasn’t sure where that came from, but deep down, she suspected that Erik wasn’t really here about her dancing.
His eyes widened for just a split second. “I know that we are over, darling. That was my own fault and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Izzy did an internal fist pump. As much as she detested Erik, she couldn’t help but take pleasure that he’d deserted Brittany, too.
They deserved each other for what they’d done to her. His confession should have been vindication, but she felt nothing but disgust. Seeing Erik now just confirmed that while she may not have closure on her career, she had no regrets about the end of her relationship with Erik. He did nothing for her. No butterflies in her belly. Nothing. Certainly not the intense desire that coursed through her at the mere thought of Tanner’s smile, or his touch, or the way she could barely catch her breath whenever she was near him. “What are you saying, Erik? You want me to come back and dance… and that’s all?”
“Of course.” He stalked around the room, like he was pondering his words. “We need you, darling. The company needs you. And while I still love you, I know that I’ve lost my chance. But I hope that my stupidity hasn’t ruined everything for the company. Please, darling, tell me that you’ll consider it?”
“Erik, I… I don’t know. I made peace with what happened. I’m happy here with my studio and with Tanner. Why would I want to go back to New York?”
“Because you have unfinished business. You’ll never be satisfied until you know that you made it and you left on your own terms.”
She turned her back on Erik so he couldn’t see what she couldn’t admit to herself. That he was right. She loved her studio and her students, but in the back of her mind, the way her career ended had niggled at her. She’d been at the top of her game when she’d fallen. She’d had more to accomplish and knew she had it in her to make it big. That future had been taken from her, and she’d never had the chance to prove it.
But Erik was giving her that chance. A chance until this very moment she didn’t think she’d ever have or even want.
“I know you better than you know yourself, darling. You’re thinking about it. Good. That’s all I wanted. I’ll be waiting in New York when you’re ready.”
She heard Erik’s shoes squeak on her studio floor and then the brushing of his steps on the carpet in the lobby. He may have gone, but his suggestion would linger for a lot longer. As much as she didn’t want to consider anything to do with Erik, she couldn’t deny how the prospect of a grand return had her considering things she thought she’d left behind.