Fakers
1238 Words
NIKOLAI pov
“Ladies, I’ve come to introduce someone very major to you.” Legend the manager and instructor who will now be my right hand said, walking sharply and calling everyone’s attention.
They all turned at the same time. They looked like a synchronized wall of pastel blue, everyone wearing a classic, fitted camisole leotard with thin shoulder straps. Except for someone who oddly stood out.
“This is Mr. Volvok. Our new CEO.”
Her lips curved upwards with absolutely no emotion in her eyes. The others all flashed their teeth instantly.
Fucked up fakers
“I’m Julian Volvok,” I said, keeping my tone perfectly flat. “You can call me Mr. Volvok I will be your director and the person going to be giving you sponsors.”
She looked straight at me. The sheer weight of her stare made me stop talking mid-sentence.
“You. You must be Elena?”
Before she could respond, Legend cut her off like a desperate puppy. “Yes sir, she’s Elena Vance, our star dancer.”
“Nice to meet you.” Her voice cut through the tense atmosphere softly. Only then could I notice she wore a deep, blood-red leotard with a sheer back.
Elena Vance, you bloody little thief.
“I would like to observe this practice session. Please start now.” I put my hands in my pocket.
“Have a seat,” Legend suggested, gesturing wildly to a chair.
I gave no answer. I just stood there and watched them separate to stretch before the session began.
I leaned against the studio wall, my arms crossed, watching her dismantle my assumptions with a single movement.
She stood at the wooden barre, her back completely turned to me, oblivious or entirely indifferent to my presence.
Could she really be the one? The thief, the one I’ve been hunting?
Her outfit opened her back, framing the sharp architecture of her spine.
I watched her twist through the Swan Lake sequence, her body arching back in a calculated, mocking display of innocence.
“One two three, one two three, stop!” Legend barked.
Her hair was pinned up in a severe bun. The long line of her throat, the sharp jaw, those dark fox-eyes, all of it disgusted me.
She stared into the mirror with a cold, deceptive precision, her plush lips pressed into a hard line. She extended her arms upward like a dying swan, pretending to be fragile. It was a pathetic lie. I knew the lethal grit hiding beneath that graceful movement.
She was a thief who had bled my family empire dry, and watching her dance with my money only made me want to break her.
Where could she hide it? Where the hell is it?
“I’ve seen enough!” I walked slowly towards her. She didn’t budge.
“Is there a problem?” she asked softly.
I turned and started to walk away. “See me in my office.”
I leaned back in the high-backed leather chair, my fingers steepled.
She walked in a moment later. Her footsteps did not make a single sound on the carpet. Legend practically scurried in behind her.
“We’re here, sir,” Legend said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
I didn't look at him. I kept my eyes on her. “Is this the so-called star dancer you have? It’s no wonder you’ve gotten bankrupt. The technique is lacking.”
“Excuse me?” She didn’t blink. She didn’t break eye contact as her eyes bore into me. “I don’t care if you’re my boss Mr. Vance, but you don’t know s**t about being a dancer. And I can tell you don’t even know what art is.”
I stopped rolling in my chair without even thinking. Expected of a thief. Why did she try to act so innocent with her colleagues when she had a mouth like a switchblade?
“I know what sells,” I said, leaning forward. “And right now, you don't. I’ll buy you a spot in the main Swan Lakeshowcase. That should give you the recognition you actually need to bring in revenue.”
“I can’t do that,” she snapped, her chin rising. “It’s something you earn, not something you buy your way into. This isn't a grocery store.”
Legend looked like he was about to pass out. He quickly stepped in and pushed her back a couple of inches. “Pardon her, Mr. Volvok! She is just passionate. We will do whatever you want us to do. Anything at all.”
I poked my head around Legend's shoulder to meet her gaze. She now had her hands firmly on her hips, glaring at me. “Doesn’t seem like she wants to.”
“Oh, she’s just being silly.” Legend laughed forcefully. He sounded like a disabled Santa Claus.
“I’d rather quit, Mr. Legend,” she said. Her face flushed with a sudden redness. “I am not a circus animal you can just place in a ring.”
I held back a dark smile. She was one of the most famous ballerinas in the city. Of course she wouldn’t let herself be mistreated by a mere agency.
She knew she could probably buy the whole building herself with my missing money.
“Okay,” I said, tapping my desk. “You want to earn it? Fine. But I have one condition for you to keep your contract.”
They both remained completely quiet to hear my words. The room was dead silent.
“We go everywhere together. Effective immediately.”
She froze. She stared at me with widened eyes and raised eyebrows. “Absolutely not. Why on earth would I do that? Are you insane?”
“I wasn’t asking, Elena.” I stood up, closing my laptop with a sharp click. “You want to keep your precious art? Then you deal with the artist. Get your things.”
“I wasn’t asking, Elena.” I stood up, closing my laptop with a sharp click. “You want to keep your precious art? Then you deal with the artist. Get your things.”
She didn’t move an inch. Her hands stayed locked on her hips. “I am not a dog you can put on a leash, Mr. Vance. I have a life. I have rehearsals.”
“Your rehearsals are now my schedule,” I said, walking around the massive desk until I was standing right in front of her. “And your life belongs to this studio, which means it belongs to me.”
Legend looked back and forth between us, his face pale. “Elena, please. Just cooperate. It’s a temporary arrangement for corporate branding!”
“Corporate branding?” She let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her dark fox-eyes flashing with pure heat. “He doesn't want branding, Mr. Legend. He wants a shadow. Why? Are you scared someone is going to hit you if you walk across the street alone, Julian?”
I leaned down slightly, bringing my face close enough to see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “I am very careful with my assets, Elena. Especially the ones that tend to disappear.”
She didn’t flinch. “I am a dancer, not an asset.”
“We will see about that,” I murmured. “Now move.”
- Writer
