CLAIMED BY THE RUSSIAN TYRANT

Anastasia spun in a flawless pirouette, the private studio mirrors reflecting her red hair tightly secured in a bun. Her pointe shoes glided across the studio floor as she extended her legs in a perfect arabesque. In two weeks, she would dance as Odette in Swan Lake on the Billiards stage. It was the role she had bled for since fleeing the gilded cage of her family in Russia and their never-ending drama. But as she landed, spotting her reflection, the stern voice of Dean Victoria shattered the music. “Anastasia Sokolov! My office, now.” What could be the problem? Anastasia wondered. Dean Victoria only summoned dancers when they had done something wrong, and Anastasia never did anything wrong. She was disciplined. Perfect. One of the best. In the dean’s office, she shuddered as the air conditioner hit her sweaty skin. Dean Victoria peered at her over her glasses and sighed. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here, Anastasia.” Anastasia nodded, her heart thudding. “You’re one of our most promising dancers. But I am so sorry to say that your enrollment here will have to be revoked. Your parents haven’t paid your outstanding fees of $230,000.” The words hit Anastasia like a punch in the face. $230,000 was literally nothing her family couldn’t handle. “No, that’s not possible. Have you tried contacting my father?” The dean sighed, slowly taking her glasses off. “It was your mother who called to cancel your enrollment.” Anastasia had to grip the chair to stop from falling off. Suddenly, the fatigue of her last dance practice was making her feel sick. She knew her parents never supported her ambition to be a ballet dancer in America. They only allowed her here because Dmitri, her betrothed, was also enrolled here. But why now? Why did they get to ruin everything right now, with a life-changing performance looming ahead of her? Storming into her dorm room, she dialed her mother’s number, fingers shaking. “Why would you cancel my enrollment, Mama?” “How dare you speak to me like that? Is that what you’ve learned in America?” her mother snapped in Russian. “Your father has had a heart attack, you fool. He’s requesting your presence at home immediately, and all you can think about is ballet?” Anastasia froze, the phone hot against her ear. Maximo, her father, had never suffered a heart attack before. Swallowing, she softened her voice. “Forgive me, Mama, but… what caused it?” “What caused what?” “The heart attack.” Her mother scoffed. “He’s getting old, that is what. The least you can do is act like a decent daughter and come home instead of behaving like an ungrateful brat.” Anger tightened Anastasia’s chest. “I have an important performance next week. I can come after that. My career shouldn’t be destroyed because of this.” “So dancing in a tutu is more important than your father’s life?” her mother spat. “I always knew you’d end up like your traitor sister.” “Mama, wait, I didn’t mean—” “Be in Moscow with Dmitri by Monday.” And with that, her mother hung up, leaving her to slide down her door to the floor as uncontrollable tears of frustration racked her. She didn’t have her own money, only what her family sent her as a monthly allowance, and that wouldn’t cover the outrageous amount she was owing the Billiards dance school. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she decided that Dmitri would understand. She hadn’t seen him for a while now due to intense practice. He could help her talk to her parents and convince them to let her stay until after her show. She just needed to dance as Odette, then she could go back home to her demanding family. She grabbed her keys and headed to his dorm across campus, switching her pointe shoes for boots. Reaching his private suite, reserved for elite students, she knocked softly but no answer came. Frowning, she tried the handle. It was unlocked. Suddenly, a low male groan vibrated through the door, followed by a loud smacking sound. She froze, wondering if she had heard correctly. Dmitri never had friends over neither did he have a roommate. “Tell me, Dmitri,” a voice said. “Does your little Swan f**k you better than I do?” Anastasia palmed her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. “Answer me, Dmitri. Does she do it like I do?” The voice grunted out again. “She’s a chore, Philip. A dumb spineless chore,” Dmitri’s voice sounded back, strained and breathless. “Just shut up and f**k me. That loser won’t even be here by tomorrow.” Anastasia’s head was spinning. Philip? No it couldn’t be… The "spineless chore" pushed the door open and froze. Lo and behold, Her fiancé, her perfect blonde Russian match, was pinned face down to the bed, naked and panting, while Philip, Billiard’s dance instructor slammed into him from behind. Their moans echoing together. Anastasia’s breath caught, the world tilting as she stubbed her shoes on the doorframe by accident. The sound echoed across the room, freezing both men mid-thrust. Dmitri’s glazed eyes widened in horror. Before she could turn and flee, he was off the bed, clamming his slick hands around her bicep. Dmitri didn’t even bother to cover up. He stood in front of her in his raw, shameful state, his face twisting from shock into something angry. "Don’t you dare walk away," he hissed. "Let go of me! You’re disgusting!" Anastasia sobbed, thrashing against his grip. The smell of him, sweat and lube, made her want to vomit. He jerked her back toward the room, palming her mouth with his slimy hands when she tried to scream. His eyes darted to Philip, who sat on the edge of the bed looking completely amused. “She can join us, you know. I wouldn’t mind.” Philip said. Anastasia felt sick to her stomach. Philip was a married man with six children, for God's sake. And to top it all off, it was against Billiard’s law for staffs to engage with students. It all made sense now. All those auditions he won without even trying and she had to prove herself again and again to even get a spot that had already been taken from her. “Shut your i***t mouth, Philip. She’s too sensitive,” Dmitri hissed before pinning Anastasia with a dark glare, his fingers crushing her bone. "You won't say a word, Anastasia. Not to your father, not to the Academy.” Anastasia couldn’t even recognize her voice when he removed his disgusting hands from her mouth. “How could you Dmitri? How could you possibly cheat on me with a man—What—happened to you?” He turned purple with anger. "What do you mean what happened to me? You think you’re so pure? I’m a man, Anastasia. I have needs your 'virginity' can’t satisfy. You brought this on yourself with your endless rehearsals and your 'waiting for marriage' nonsense. I got tired." "My virginity?” she whispered, feeling her knees buckling. "That’s your excuse?” He gripped her chin painfully, “It’s not like you had anything to offer other than that!” “Oh!” So that’s what he saw her as, a weak fool. “You’re a coward, Dmitri. A coward and a liar who is scared to come out of the closet!” His eyes flashed red then. “I’m not a f*****g faggot, you entitled little b***h. If a single word of this reaches Moscow, I will tell your father that you were the one found in another man's bed. Who do you think he will believe, huh?" With a shove, he released her. Anastasia didn’t wait. She turned and bolted into the night, the hallway blurring as she ran with tears streaming down her cheeks. She wished she could scrub her eyes out. She wished beyond anything that it was all a fever dream. It wasn’t. Dmitri was a known homophobe who would literally beat an innocent guy to a pulp if he said he was gay. It was normal in Russia. His family was the same. Was his entire personality a lie? One thing was certain: she couldn’t face him anymore, and she certainly couldn't face the staffs at Billiards. She was leaving without him, and she was leaving immediately!