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Chapter 9

Juliette

Whoever it was who said ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ sure knew what they were talking about. The week I spent with Declan getting everything ready for the wedding was one of the best of my life. Unfortunately, it felt like it flew by in the blink of an eye. If Declan hadn’t been up and out the door at the butt crack of dawn, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to drag mine out of bed to leave for the studio on time. I’d quickly become addicted to lazy mornings spent in bed with him.

Although, I’m not sure lazy was quite the right word for it. Declan had decided the best exercise routine during my time off was one which included a whole lot of horizontal action—with him as my very own personal trainer. I wasn’t about to argue, not when it meant I was able to stay in shape while enjoying tons of orgasms. It was the best kind of win-win situation for me, but it had come to an end and I was ready to make the most of the next few months in the studio before the baby came.

Serena had suggested I try my hand at choreography since my practice hours were limited by my pregnancy. I’d been hesitant at first, but I’d quickly fallen in love with my new creative outlet. There was one particular piece I was excited to show her and our artistic director today. I’d had a breakthrough in my composition that last night at the studio. After running through it in my head over and over again during my time away, I was certain it was exactly the way I wanted it.

The first thing I did when I arrived was to find Serena. “Hey,” I greeted her when I peeked my head into her office.

“Welcome back.” Her eyes drifted down to my belly and a big grin split her face. “You look amazing. Your time off must have been exactly what you needed.”

“It was perfect,” I agreed. “So much so that I think the piece I’ve been working on the last couple months is done.”

“You have fantastic timing!” She jumped up from her seat and hurried towards me, grabbing my hand and leading me down the hall to the largest studio. “Hayes is running through a couple new pieces today, so you can show both of us at the same time. He has a nice selection of dancers in there for you to pick from, and it should only take them a few run-throughs before they’ll be ready to show us what you’ve got.”

Butterflies took flight in my stomach at the thought of watching my fellow dancers performing the first piece I’d choreographed on my own in front of our artistic director, Leonard Hayes. I was already nervous about Serena’s feedback, but I knew she wouldn’t be too harsh. She would be constructive rather than harsh, even if she hated it. Plus, she’d liked the parts I’d already shown her. Hayes was a whole different story since he could be a bit of a jerk about other people’s choreography at times.

Apparently, this wasn’t one of those days since he was raptly watching several of the corps members perform. The piece was beautiful, undeniably so . . . it was also hauntingly familiar. It was the same exact one I’d been working to perfect during my last night at the studio a week ago! I hadn’t thought anyone had seen me. I hadn’t even known any other dancers were in the building at the time, not until we’d bumped into Irina in the hallway on our way out.

Irina! I searched the room for that black-haired bitch, and there she was—standing in the corner of the room next to Hayes with a smug smirk on her face. Why that little... It was terribly difficult to resist marching my pregnant self over there and punching her right in the face. She’d stolen my choreography! Down to every little step, without even bothering to change a single move. The gall of that woman never ceased to amaze me.

“She’s got balls. Giant, brass ones. I’ll give her that but not much else,” I muttered.

“Oh, I’ve got something to give her all right,” Serena snarled from behind me. “A swift kick on her behind on her way out the door.”

My dance mistress marched over to where Irina stood and flashed her a smile which looked obviously fake to me.

“Such magnificent choreography,” she cooed.

Irina’s face lit up with pride. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“And so different from your usual style.”

“You’ve always encouraged us to push our own boundaries,” Irina explained.

“It really is a major accomplishment,” Serena offered, and Irina practically preened with excitement at the compliment—only to find herself crashing back to reality when Serena continued. “For the dancer who actually choreographed the piece, who we both know was most definitely not you.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence following her announcement before Irina started to sputter. “What? Why would you even suggest such a thing? Of course I did!”

Serena switched her focus to Hayes. “The girl is lying.”

“I am not!” Irina screeched.

“I’m not sure how you thought you’d get away with stealing Juliette’s work, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is her piece.”

“Why? Did your little teacher’s pet tell you it’s hers in a desperate attempt to remain relevant since she can’t dance anymore?” Irina hissed.

“No, Irina. Because I’ve seen part of this dance as she’s worked on it over the last two months. She’s come to me for advice and asked for my feedback, just like I’d expect any dancer new to choreography to do. Can you say the same? Is there anyone who’s seen you work on this piece?”

“Yes, just this past week—“

Serena didn’t let her finish. “Do you think I’m dumb? That I don’t know a dance I’ve already seen? That it’s purely coincidence you worked on this piece during the one week when Juliette was absent?”

“Is this true, Irina?” Hayes asked.

“I—I—I don’t—” she stammered.

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