Page 5 of Surrender
“Parker! My boy,” a bright voice called, the sound echoing in the tall ceiling. “Thank goodness you made it.”
Parker’s hand slipped from mine as he deviated to the right, embracing his mother tightly while I hung back, rehearsing words in my head, sentences that I thought would sound normal, or at least polite.
It’s lovely to meet you.
You look beautiful.
What a wonderful event.
“And this must be Darcy.”
At this point, I wasn’t sure how I could be anymore shocked, but here I was, my mouth hanging open as Parker steppedto the side, and I finally caught sight of the woman who was Margot Carrington. How I thought I’d been expecting a woman in her sixties sporting some kind of well-tailored pant suit, I wasn’t sure, because that was not who stood in front of me. The black silk gown she was wearing had a split that exposed her entire thigh, the top half of the dress much the same, with a halter neckline that scooped low between her breasts, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Add in the six-inch heels and the crimson red lips, and I was feeling more and more out of my depth by the second.
“I… yes, hi,” I stumbled before shaking my head and starting again. “I mean, it’s lovely to meet you. You look beautiful.”
Her eyes dipped, taking in my outfit, the subtle scan instantly making me stand a little taller. When her eyes met mine again, she flashed a smile, one that twisted my stomach. “That’s a pretty dress.”
Pretty.
Pretty isn’t exactly the word you wanted to hear the heiress of a fashion brand describe your outfit, but this dress was the single most expensive thing I owned.
“I think tomorrow night when you perform, I’d prefer you wear something blue, a jewel tone maybe,” she announced, nodding her head. “It will complement your skin better—”
“When I perform?”
“Because you’re very pale. The lights on the stage will wash you out.”
My mouth was dry, and my head was spinning. “What?” I questioned with a laugh, positive I’d misunderstood, or it was some kind of inside joke I didn’t understand, but when I looked at Parker, he was nodding.
“Yeah. Tonight is for the people who work for the charity to get acknowledged, but tomorrow is for the donors,” he confirmed, his brow pinching between his eyes as he looked atme like I was the crazy one. “One of the acts Mom had planned had to pull out at the last minute, and she was panicking because people want to be excited and entertained if they’re going to give large amounts of money. And what is more entertainingly classic than the ballet? I didn’t think you’d mind dancing a number or two.”
I was hearing the words.
But I was still convinced I was hearing them wrong.
“Parker, I don’t just carry around a pair ofpointeshoes,” I rambled nervously, blinking a couple of times and shaking my head. “I haven’t been on them for almost a year, and the only classes I’m teaching at the moment are juniors, so I’m not pushing myself enough to perform. That’s just—”
He grabbed my hands, tugging me in and stalling my train of thought. “Baby, it’s okay,” he insisted with a gentle smile, and my shoulders began to drop from around my ears. Thankfully, he was finally getting it. “I’ve sent Mom’s assistant out to the nearest dance store with your shoe size to get you a pair of shoes and an outfit. You’ll have tomorrow to practice. You need to have more confidence in yourself.”
Oh God.
He wasn’t getting it.
“I don’t think you—”
“Parker! Stop putting so much pressure on the poor girl,” Margot ordered with a scowl at her son.
I let out a sigh and smiled over at her as she preened herself in the reflection of the yacht club’s revolving doors. “Thank—”
“She was never a principal dancer. She’s never known those pressures a real ballerina goes through.” Margot spun around dramatically and pressed her hand to her heart, her body swaying and her eyes gazing up and over our heads as she smiled, as though she was watching some Broadway show happening behind us. “The way they fight through the pain toperform and make it look so effortless. I relate to that, you know, not a lot of people do, though.”
Gritting my teeth, I managed to keep myself from snapping at thereal ballerinacomment.
Had I ever been a principal dancer? No.
Did that negate theactualblood, sweat, and tears that had leaked from my damn body for years as I pushed it to its physical limits? Hell no.
