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“Sorry,” the ballerina says in a soft, sweet voice. “I just came to say I found the ring. It was in the restroom on the counter by the sinks.”
I begin to slip past her, giving her a shaky smile, but I’m grabbed by my arm by Dario.
“Give me the ring, Izzy,” he orders. When she places it in his palm, he says, “Go back to rehearsal.”
I’m pulled into the office again, and feeling like I might burst out in tears like Vivian did, I clench my jaw tightly because I’m not some fragile ballerina.
Dario hands the ring to Vivian, then says, “You owe her an apology.”
The fuck?
Before I can stop myself, my head snaps up, and I practically spit the words out. “I’m not apologizing for shit.”
Dario’s eyes latch onto my face, and as I watch recognition register on his face, followed shortly by absolute shock, my entire world tips on its axis.
I’m surprised when his tone is calm and steady when he says, “Vivian, apologize to Eden.”
“I’m sorry,” Vivian mutters.
His eyes narrow on my face, and then his features darken as if a storm is building, and I just know in my bones he’s going to fire me.
It takes all my strength not to cry as a crack splinters down the middle of my heart. My voice is hoarse as I give him a pleading look. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” he snaps before his eyes flick to Mrs. Stafford. “Is this how you handle the staff?”
Mrs. Stafford instantly looks subdued as she says, “What was I to do? It was Vivian’s word against the janitor’s.”
Dario lets go of my arm and moves slightly in front of me, his bicep brushing against my cap.
“Would you have dealt differently with the problem if you knew Eden’s my girlfriend?”
I almost choke on a random drop of spit while Mrs. Stafford and Vivian gasp collectively.
“She’s what?” Mrs. Stafford asks.
“Eden is my girlfriend,” he repeats the words.
I watch as the women’s attitudes shift, and where they were ready to tear me apart a moment ago, they give me apologetic looks.
Because of Dario.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Taylor. I wasn’t aware of your relationship with Mr. L Rosa.”
“Miss?” I let out a burst of incredulous laughter.
“I didn’t mean to slap you,” Vivian says.
Lifting my chin, I ask, “Can I go, Mrs. Stafford?”
“Of course. Let me know if you need anything,” she says, her tone completely different from how she usually speaks to me.
Turning around, I walk out of the office. I go back to my cart, and determined to keep working until Dario tells me I’m fired, I grab the mop.
“We need to talk,” Dario says behind me.
“I’m working,” I mutter.
“Eden!”
