Page 12 of The Virgin's Dance
“Don’t be a macho man. There’s no shame in admitting that, Pilot. It happens to the strongest people, the very strongest. The strong and the good. It’s time, my boy.”
The trouble was—Pilotwasembarrassed. Humiliated on more than one occasion by Genie in public, physically and emotionally attacked in private. Subconsciously, he touched the half-moon scar at the corner of his right eye. A broken champagne bottle that time. It could have ended his career, and he had no doubt that was exactly what Genie had wanted—to hurt him in the worst way.
He knew what he had to do. A new apartment, try to keep the details out of the press. He should keep the one in his present building as a decoy. It was a start.
That was the other reason he had backed away from Boh. Eugenie’s jealousy knew no limits and if she found out he was seeing someone else—someone so much younger and, in Pilot’s opinion, far more beautiful and sweet—he couldn’t bear the thought of Boh getting caught up in the ferocity of Genie’s rage.
God, what a fucking mess of a life. He could feel the black cloud descending on him. He stopped and got his bearings. What was next? What was he on his way to do?
He checked his schedule on his phone and turned down Broadway, making his way to his studio.
Work.Work was what would push the pain away, although he wished with all his being that when he reached his studio, Boh would be there to hold him in her arms.
Chapter Eight
“Where thefuckhave you been?”
Kristof’s rage filled the studio, and, humiliated, Boh put her bag down before she answered him, trying to keep her voice steady. “I wasn’t scheduled until nine, Kristof, and it’s ten of now.”
She saw Serena smirk. Kristof’s dark eyes burrowed into hers. “So we’re adding illiterate to tardy now?” He stormed outside of the studio and Boh saw him rip the class schedules from the corkboard on the wall outside the studio. Her heart sank. Clearly, there had been another late schedule change. Kristof came in and shoved the piece of paper at her. Sure enough, under her name was“Mendelev, Studio 6, 8 a.m.”
“I didn’t see this. When I left last night, it was still—”
“I don’t want your fucking excuses, Boh. Get changed into the white leotard.”
Ah. He often made them change into different clothes to better see the lines of their bodies when they danced. She grabbed her bag and headed out of the door.
“No. Get changed—here.”
Boh stopped, shocked. A murmur went around the class. What the hell? Kristof’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Do it. Clearly, you don’t mind stripping down for Pilot Scamo, so, so shy?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re fucking him. We all know about it. So, come on. Get changed and let us all see what he sees.”
Serena gave a chuckle and Boh shot her a fierce glare. “Who I see in my private time is my business, but you’re wrong. Pilot Scamo and I are just friends and I have no intention of stripping off just because you’re in one of your petty tempers, Kristof.”
Boh heard the gasp from some of her cohort, and she was shocked at her own response to the man. She saw anger ripple across his face. “Strip or get out,” he said steadily. “And someone else will dance the lead in the workshop.”
Bastard.She would not let him take what she had worked so hard for. Pulling her arms into her sweatshirt, she yanked the bottom of it down to cover her ass and stripped off her pants and underwear. Kristof watched her in amusement as she deftly changed into her leotard without exposing any intimate parts.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, first positions.”
Boh was still angry at the end of the class, and they all walked back to the changing rooms, she hooked her finger in the back of Serena’s top and yanked her back. “Keep your filthy little rumors to yourself, bitch.”
Serena extracted herself from Boh’s grip and gave her the finger. “We’re all pretty sick of this precious little virgin routine, Dali. No one believes it. So fuck you and your skeevy photographer.”
Boh, incensed, lunged for the other girl, but Grace and Fernanda pulled her back. “Fuck off, Serena,” Grace said, and, snickering, Serena walked away. “Ignore her, Boh, she’s just being—”
“A little cu—”
“Boh! This isn’t like you. Come on.” Grace hauled her away, down to the cafeteria. When they were seated, Boh sighed and folded her arms on the table, resting her head on them.
“Sorry, Gracie,” she said, “I’m a grouch today.”
Gracie studied her. “You were already gone when I left the apartment this morning. Where did you go?”
Boh could feel her face burn. “I had a breakfast meeting with Pilot Scamo.”
