Page 14 of Claiming Genevieve

“Genevieve.” His voice has a note of pleading now, but I don’t want to listen to anything else.

I shake my head once more, firmly. “Get out,” I snap. “I have a performance to focus on, and I don’t have time for this. Just fuckinggo.”

With those last three words, I see Rowan deflate. He runs a hand through his coppery hair, and gives a short, jerky nod.

“Alright,” he says, letting out a breath. “Have it your way, lass. I’ll—alright.”

He turns to go, and I watch him leave, the door shutting hard behind him on the way out. And when it shuts, I feel myself let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding.

So that’s over, then.I should feel relief. I should be glad that, most likely, I’ll never see Rowan Gallagher again.

Instead, all I feel is hollow, as if I’ve lost something I didn’t even know I wanted.

6

GENEVIEVE

Idon’t even have time to sit back down at my vanity table before the door swings open again. “Itoldyou, Rowan—” I bite out as I spin around… and the words die on my tongue as I see Chris step into the room.

His expression, already irritated, hardens in an instant. “I wondered,” he says silkily as the door swings shut behind him, “if he’d been in here when I passed him walking down the hall. But I thought surely we were past that. That our last argument was enough to put a stop to whatever is going on between the two of you.”

I press my hand to my forehead, exhaustion washing over me as I glance up at the clock. Ireallydon’t have time for this. “There’s nothing going on, Chris.”

His gaze flicks from mine to the garbage can next to my vanity table, and his eyes narrow. “Flowers arenothing?”

“I threw them away, as you can see,” I say evenly. “So yes,nothing.”

“But enough for him to bring you flowers.”

“For fuck’s sake!” My voice rises, and I see his gaze darken angrily. “Enough, Chris. Yes, he took an interest in me at the party. He took an interest in theballet, and in possibly becoming a patron, a word that I’m heartily sick of saying and hearing for the past week, between him, Vincent, and you. And I told him no. I told him I wasn’t interested. And just now, Ithrew the fucking flowers away, and told him to leave. Is that enough for you?”

Chris strides towards me, quickly enough that I back up, bumping into my vanity table as I do. He sneers down at me, his eyes narrowed in that same glare.

“Oh, don’t act like I’m going to hurt you, Genevieve,” he snaps sarcastically. “Like I’ve ever raised a hand to you. So fucking dramatic.” He reaches up, his fingers curling around my chin, and I try not to look afraid. Not to let him see that right now, I’m not sure of anything, any longer.

“I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for,” he says coolly. “I’ve pampered you and cared for you. I’ve gotten you access to exclusive clubs, bought you a designer wardrobe, given you diamonds and expensive jewelry. I support you in every way you need. So tell me the truth, Genevieve. Has he touched you?”

I breathe out, slowly, trying to calm the frenetic pace of my heart. “We danced, once,” I say softly. “At the party. Like I would have with anyone else who wanted to dance. That’sall, Chris. This has gotten out of hand.”

His fingers tighten on my chin, ever so slightly. “I’m going to choose to believe you,” he murmurs. “But if I find out you’ve lied?—”

I look up at him, anger forming a hard, hot ball behind my ribs. “And what about you?” I ask softly. “Tell me the truth, Chris. Did you fuck the woman whose perfume was on your shirt?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. He lets go of me so abruptly that it’s almost a shove, the vanity table rocking behind me. I know, in that moment, that I shouldn’t go home to him tonight. I should get a hotel, or stay with Evelyn or Dahlia, or one of my other friends. Something has changed in Chris, and I can hear the warning alarms going off in the back of my head, telling me that this has tipped over into dangerous territory.

But, at the same time, a small voice whispers in the back of my head, even as he’s standing there glaring at me, that maybe I am being dramatic. That not going home tonight will cause more trouble than it’s worth; that surely it’s just easier to put up with all of this just alittlelonger, and break up with him in a few days, when I’ve had time to rest and get my head straight. I won’t be home until late tonight anyway, after the performance and the afterparty?—

My stomach tightens.The afterparty. I don’t want him there at all now, but I don’t think I’m going to get a choice. As a patron of the ballet, Chris is expected to be there, and the way he’s behaving right now, I doubt he’s going to let me out of his sight at a party where Rowan might make an appearance.

Please, God, don’t let that happen.The thought of them both at the party, ruining the night because of Rowan’s persistence and Chris’s unhinged jealousy, makes me feel nauseated. That anger still roils behind my ribs, too, because this ismynight. This is what I work for, for months at a time. I want to enjoy it, and instead of being excited, instead of anticipating my performance and the celebration after, I’m fighting a riot of emotions as I try to pacify two different men.

“I already answered that question, Genevieve,” he says icily. “I don’t want to hear about it again.”

It’s not the firm denial that I wanted, not his assurance that he’d never cheat on me, especially not when he’s so violently demanding that I assure him that I haven’t strayed so much as a toe out of line. But I can see from the look on his face that pushing him would be the wrong choice.

And I don’t havetime.

I look up at the clock again. I’m supposed to be going out to lace up my pointe shoes right now, getting ready behind the curtain with the other dancers. I should be one of the first ones to arrive backstage. I’m theprima, the one who sets an example for others, who all of the other dancers look up to and want to emulate.

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