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“It’s fine,” Polina says quietly. “He’s…” she looks away as her fingers play with the stem of her wine glass. “He likes to pamper me.”
“Is that all he likes to do?” I press.
Her throat works up and down, her gaze dropping.
“I’m a dancer,” she mumbles. “Ballet. I’ve danced my entire life. Mostly in Russia, where I’m from. But then I was in a company that was touring Europe. That’s where I met Vadik; in Austria. He came to the show, took me out afterward, and told me he’d make me a star.”
I wince, taking a sip of my wine.
I don’t know this story personally. But fuck, every woman “knows” this story.
“Vadik has ties to the Zakharova Ballet, in New York.”
I smile. “My friend Bianca dances with them.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
I nod, feeling warm as I smile at her. “Yeah. She’s an incredible dancer.” I reach out and rub her arm, surprised at how soft and silky her skin is. “Like you.”
She looks away. “You’ve never seen me dance.”
“Well, you were touring Europe,” I laugh. “I think that puts you at a certain level.”
Polina smiles shyly and looks down.
“He was…” She shakes her head. “Sweeter at first. He gave me so many presents, took me to fancy parties and dinners. Nice clothes, cars.” She sighs. “Now, I don’t even dance anymore.”
She looks away, brushing the back of one hand against the corner of her eye. I take another sip of the seriously amazing wine, monetarily distracted by the gorgeous way the light slants in through the windows before I look at her.
When I do, I shudder a little. Where she’s just wiped at her eye, she’s smudged some of her foundation.
The ugly purple bruise underneath is suddenly much more visible.
Fuck.
“Look, Polina, we obviously don’t know each other, and I don’t know your life. But… Can I say something?”
Her face has fallen a little as she turns back to me, nodding miserably.
“I was with someone who didn’t appreciate me, too,” I say quietly. “Someone who mistreated me, didn’t respect me.” I shrug. “So I cut him loose and kicked him to the curb.”
Polina smiles wanly. “I think that would not be so easy in my case.”
My brow furrows. “Do you need help? I mean, seriously.”
She starts to open her mouth. Then she looks away, wiping her eyes again.
“I—I’m so sorry,” she suddenly says.
I frown. “Polina?”
I blink a little at the wild trails of light that stream from her hair as she whirls back toward me. I flinch when she yanks the wine glass out of my hand.
“You need to get out of here.”
My brow furrows, my skin tingling with light and energy and color as I push aside a pink butterfly to be able to look at Polina directly.
…Then everything I’ve just thought makes me freeze.
