・C H A P T E R 3・

The next morning Asya meandered into company class still sipping on her banana breakfast smoothie. She bid a sleepy good morning to her fellow dancers as she made her way to the opposite end of the studio and eased her tutu and ballet bag off her shoulders, setting them down against the wall. 

Some morning sunshine warmed her usual spot through the circular skylight in the studio's roof, and she blinked lazily into the light as she stripped off her street clothes, hoping it would help wake her up. Dressed only in a leotard and tights she began warming up her body for the day, starting with her neck and back and gradually moving to the rest of her muscles. 

With a lazy yawn she slid into a straddle split, pushing her hipbones into the floor and reaching her arms forward to intensify the stretch. The last three weeks had been a gruelling blur of rehearsals and stage calls for Sleeping Beauty, and a part of her was definitely relieved that opening night was out of the way. 

Asya yawned again and folded her arms on the marley floor in front of her to rest her cheek on. She really should have made more of an effort to get in a decent night's sleep. The curtain calls had only finished at around midnight, which was followed by another hour of press photographs and backstage congratulating amongst the cast. At some point Ivan had chased her down, and she'd amused him in his dressing room for a bit before heading home. Needless to say, between three brutal weeks of rehearsal stress and yet another late night, she woke up feeling like dead.

No excuses, she lectured herself, sitting up to wring out her stiff neck muscles. She had a full afternoon in the studio, another show that evening, and she had to keep working hard. The Lilac Fairy was just the start of what she hoped to be a full season, with more big roles. All she had to do was prove she deserved them. 

She'd been an apprentice with the company for the final year of her training and ended up graduating top of her class from the Royal Ballet Upper School little over a year ago. At a tender nineteen, she was fighting to be taken seriously and not be dismissed as just an over-eager student with starry eyes. From the start, she'd made sure she stood out in rehearsals and secured herself good spots in the corps within the first few weeks. She snuggled up to the principals, especially the men, and that made sure she had the big dogs in her corner as well. Whether she liked to admit it or not, Ivan had pulled some strings for her along the way. Which she repaid him for, of-course. 

Last season she'd gone after a few featured roles, and ended up getting some of the more prolific ones like the Queen of the Dryads and in Don Quixote and the Odalisques in Paquita. They got rave reviews that branded her as 'the one to watch', and soon she had the valuable interest of the powers that be. Within eight exhausting, painful months, she got promoted. 

The youngest soloist in the Royal Ballet's history. 

There had been flack, of-course there had been bloody flack, people saying she was too young, too inexperienced, hadn't had enough blood, sweat and tears in the corps to actually deserve it. She still heard gossip every now and then about the 'baby ballerina soloist', but she honestly couldn't give a shit.  

If they only knew what she'd put herself through to get that stupid title, not to mention that the real work had only just begun for her.  She kicked off the new season with the Lilac Fairy, and was still out to prove she was more than just a technically capable soloist, but a stage presence: consistent, reliable, unique, and delivering on company standards every time she performed despite her inexperience. 

Inexperience she hoped could be overlooked for her upcoming castings. She had a meeting with her artistic director coming up, and although she'd been trying not to think about it, a part of her hoped she was in the cards for a principal role. There was no way she'd be promoted within the next three years, her age would never allow it, but that didn't mean she couldn't chase after some good roles. 

Asya propped up her elbows up on the floor and rolled out her shoulders, hearing some hollow clicks and pops trail down her spine. She glanced around the studio where the rest of the company was starting to arrive to see if Julian had turned up, but knowing her childhood best friend, he was probably running late. 

She became aware of a pair of eyes on her, eyes from the other side of the studio, belonging to a dark-haired stranger leaning against the far wall next to the piano. 

Eyes on her.

The ballet mistress in charge of company class, Jackie, clapped her hands to begin the lesson and dancers started making their way to the barre. Asya got up and found her usual spot, losing sight of the stranger who had been watching her.

Jackie kicked off with some slower exercises, but before long she was setting the tight, technical combinations she was known for. Asya counted out the music in her head, concentrating on the steps and how they fit into one another. Eleven-o-clock company class was something she tried to use as a meditative process to start the day, even when it chased her out of bed way too early in the morning. 

'Keep it right behind you!' Jackie barked shrilly to no one in particular, winding through the studio with a critical eye. 'Hips still, dancers!'

Asya was coming up from a forward bend during the rond de jambés exercise and scanned the class for Julian again, which was when her eye fell on the barre across from her.

Dressed in loose black sweat pants and a faded white shirt, the stranger from before seemed just as immersed in the barre exercise as she was. He must be new. She hadn't seen him around before, although he did look eerily familiar, like she had seen him somewhere.

Sweeping her leg into another rond de jambé, she worked her toes through the floor and took her arm to second position to slip another curious look at the dark-haired dancer.

She won't lie and claim that he wasn't good-looking... No, no, far from it, if not really her type. He had boyish looks, beautifully boned despite the small scowl that rested on his brow. His dark hair was swept lazily out of his icy blue eyes, which reflected luminously under the fluorescent lights as he moved. 

Half-distractedly she allowed her gaze to travel down his body, her thoughts drifting away from rond de jambés for a few seconds while she summed him up. Having grown up surrounded by dancers, she was fairly hard to impress as far as physicality went. But he looked like he carried more than just the typical ballet physique under his clothes. He was tall, well over six feet if she were to guess from a distance. He had a set of powerful shoulders, long legs, some delicious veins ribbing his forearms, raw strength seemed to seep out of him even in simple set of rond de jambés...

God, what was she doing? She was supposed to be-

'Square your hips.' a voice startled her, and she felt hands on her sides correcting her placement. Jackie murmured a 'that's it' before setting off again.

Asya scolded herself for getting distracted. She needed to focus, not eye up other dancers.

The barre portion of the class ended and Asya retreated to her corner to change into her pointe shoes for centre work. She'd decided to skip out on them for barre on account of how sensitive her feet were from last night, but wasn't allowing herself any free passes for centre practice. 

She finished tying the ribbons and kneeled into the shoes to make sure they fit securely, feeling the welts on her anklebone protest. She noticed a figure towering over her, and thinking it was Julian, she looked up-

'Roman.' he said, extending his hand. 

It was the stranger, the one she'd seen at the barre, who'd been looking at her before class; he was introducing himself, but only by a first name? Interesting.

'Asya.' she replied, shaking his hand politely before she resumed tying her shoes. 

She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen him somewhere. It wouldn't be all that surprising if she had, the classical ballet world was relatively small and the Opera House was known to attract big names. She was probably finding it hard to place him because she was still new to the professional circuit and had yet to learn who all the major players were, much less putting faces to the names. 

'I saw you on stage yesterday.' Roman told her, sitting down opposite her and leaning back onto his palms. He had a hint of a foreign accent, thicker on some words more than others, but none too obvious. But she couldn't get rid of the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. Maybe if she kept him talking it would come to her.

'Yeah?'

'You were good.' 

Meeting his gaze briefly she offered him a small smile for his compliment. His startling blue eyes drilled into her, unnerving her slightly. She didn't know what it was about him, but the centre of his attention seemed like a strangely daunting place to be, and she wasn't easily intimidated. That alone told her to lower her gaze, and do it quickly.

'You have a partner?' he asked simply, picking some lint off his pants.

'Still rotating.' she replied. 'But usually Ivan.' 

She nodded toward the other side of the room where a tall blonde dancer was talking to Jackie. 

'How long have you been paired?' 

'We're not paired yet, technically. I'm only a soloist.' she explained hesitantly. 'But we've been doing some rehearsals together for two months.'

It was true. They had been rehearsing together for some time, and she'd been hoping to land a lead alongside him. Even if she had to sleep with him to get it. More importantly, though, why were they talking about her? She was trying to pinpoint where she knew him from. 

'You're new, yes?' she asked, trying to be polite. He nodded.

'Where are you from?'

'Russia.' he replied. 'Bolshoi Ballet.'

So he's a Bolshoi boy, she mused. Russia's biggest and oldest company, notoriously demanding and equally prestige, the Bolshoi attracted some of the most legendary names in ballet to its historic building in Moscow. Their training school had produced some of the world's finest dancers, and judging by Roman's powerful physique, he was probably one of their prized graduates. 

'How long are you in London for?' she asked. 

'Depends.'

'On what?'

'On whether I find what I am looking for.' he answered evenly. 

Asya opened her mouth to ask what he was looking for, but Jackie clapped her hands to call them to the centre.