Sunday Snippet

 

My snippet today is from my upcoming release, Bête Noir, Book Two in the En Pointe Series and is scheduled to release on November 10. Pre-order your copy here: AMAZON. 

Blurb

Misha Vergara had it all—a promising career as a principal dancer, a thriving stage partnership  with Talia Baranova, and the unconditional support of his mentor—until he revealed his true feelings for Henri.

Crushed, and worried about her own reputation, Talia publicly denounced Misha and severed their intricate relationship. Now, thirsting for revenge, she vows to destroy the people he loves. Dating his alleged half brother is only the beginning.    

Kazimir Lebedev has done everything he can for his illegitimate son, except acknowledge paternity. When Misha announces he’s bisexual, Kaz struggles to understand. With Talia behaving recklessly and making vicious threats, he can no longer guarantee a good outcome, for any of them.    

Finally reunited after a six month separation, Misha and Henri enjoy every sublime moment of their New York vacation. Henri has secretly loved Misha since he was thirteen years old, so being out with him is a dream come true. Until news of an abduction propels them back to St. Petersburg, Russia. Will they weather this latest crisis and grow even closer or will Talia wreak havoc on their newfound bliss?  

Snippet                                                                                                                   

St. Petersburg, Russia, New Year’s Eve, 2017

Talia

Talia had been promised a night to remember, and Grigori kept his word, intent on ushering in the New Year with as much fanfare as possible. He’d rented a penthouse suite in the heart of St. Petersburg, and they checked in that afternoon, planning to stay a couple of nights. A small group of guests were invited to join in the celebration. These were new acquaintances she’d met in the last few months who had proven to be better friends than the ones she’d left behind at the Mariinsky.

Slipping her feet into high heels for the first time since her injury, Talia put her full weight on her bum ankle and didn’t feel any pain. It was a huge relief to know she would be back on stage in a matter of weeks. Her amethyst corded-lace one-shoulder mini hugged her trim figure like a second skin. Preening in front of the mirror, Talia admired the attractive sophisticate who’d replaced the country bumpkin.

There was a knock at the door, and after she gave the okay, Grigori walked in, looking dashing in a midnight-blue Armani suit, the perfect choice to show off his blue eyes, a creepy reminder of his father, Russia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs. They lit up when he took in her attire.

“You are a vision, my boginya.”

His continued use of the word goddess, was touching. Even Misha, who had purported to love her, never idolized her in the same way. Grigori was so besotted it was impossible to harbor any resentment toward his past behavior. He had made an error in judgment on their first date, which had almost cost her virginity, but he had redeemed himself in an exceptional way after the terrible incident leading to her broken ankle.

Grigori had somehow managed to come up with the considerable funds he needed to transfer her to a private clinic with round-the-clock care and a personal physical therapist to push her rehab into high gear. The Mariinsky had government-provided healthcare, which was mediocre at best and insufficient for her needs. How he’d come up with the money was a mystery he never shared, but it had paid off in the end. She was ready to get back to work if they could find her a new ballet. Her understudy, Darya, had already captured the hearts of the fickle audience in the role of Alice after she was sidelined, and it was a foregone conclusion that she and Misha would finish out the season.

Thoughts of her ex-boyfriend transformed her mood from excited to desolate in a split second. Misha had disrespected her in public and she was still smarting from the humiliation. Grigori might not be perfect—with ongoing personal demons she was discovering on a daily basis—but at least he wasn’t queer. Plus, he was related to a powerful man, which gave him the right connections to elevate her status in society. Being a prima ballerina was one thing, but belonging to one of Russia’s most respected families was another thing altogether. She was willing to overlook Grigori’s past transgressions if he would deliver on his promises. It was a surprising decision, considering he’d almost date-raped her, risking his father’s censure and a potential arrest, but the guy was obsessed with the one who got away, and had managed, through his dogged devotion, to redeem himself in her eyes.

Nonetheless, Talia continued to hold him off, despite his best efforts to get physical. This involuntary celibacy she imposed on a guy who was always led astray by his carnal needs appeared to be getting on his last nerve. He was snapping at everyone like an angry turtle. He had even been short with her the other day, an unpleasant first she wouldn’t tolerate. Tonight, she planned to give him what he wanted, providing he slipped the ring on her finger. She’d given herself to Misha in a moment of mad indulgence and wasn’t falling into the same trap. This time, she would have something to show for it.

Light footsteps on the hardwood floor announced Gala’s arrival. Grigori’s sister, who was younger by two years and Talia’s current best friend, was wearing a strapless floor-length gown and appeared uncomfortable.

“You look amazing,” Talia cheered.

“I don’t look trashy?”

“Not at all. Black is the right color choice for you.”

“Mama picked it out.”

“She has good taste.”

“My friends will be all over you,” Grigori interjected. “I hope you’re ready to let loose.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you dress to provoke, be prepared for the consequences.”

Gala looked crestfallen. “Should I change?”

Turning on Grigori, Talia scolded, “Stop tormenting your sister. You’re an unfeeling asshole.”

“Sorry,” he conceded, looking less than apologetic.

Gala waited for Talia’s final verdict. “What do you think?”

“Your outfit is perfect,” Talia assured her. “Grigori doesn’t know anything about fashion.”

Gala beamed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Women should always stick together.”

Hooking her arm through Talia’s, Gala asked, “Shall we greet our guests?”

“Lead the way.”

The living room was already crowded with a mixed bag of partygoers, resplendent in the most current trends in fashion and jewelry. These were old friends of the Lebedev siblings. They had attended the same schools, and their parents were the current movers and shakers in Russia—members of the exalted 3% who owned 90% of the wealth.

Talia had on her best game face, but she was far from comfortable. It had been three months since she’d been under a spotlight, and when heads turned in her direction, she could feel an embarrassing blush threatening to destroy her grand entrance. She’d come a long way from her humble origins on the outskirts of Tallinn, but knew she had miles to go before she felt like an equal among these snobs. She had a stellar reputation as a principle dancer for the Mariinsky, but her current claim to fame was the man walking beside her. These people couldn’t care less about her ballet career—which had been sidelined due to her fall—only who she was dating and what she could bring to the party. One guest in particular seemed to be tracking her every move.

“Who’s the guy over there,” she asked Gala who had never left her side.

Gala turned in the direction of Talia’s gaze. “Alik Orlov. His father is richer than Croesus.”

“You don’t say.”

“Uh-huh. Seems quite interested in you.”

“Isn’t he your brother’s friend?”

“Those people have no boundaries.”

“Let him try,” Talia challenged.

Gala stayed by her side instead of mingling, which Talia found surprising considering her entitled upbringing. Why was she so timid? If their roles were reversed, Talia would behave like an alpha instead of a kicked dog. Was this another mystery in the Lebedev family she had yet to solve?

Grigori’s best friend, Kolya, sauntered toward them with a bottle of Möet & Chandon Imperial Brut and several empty crystal flutes. His dilated pupils looked like black buttons, courtesy of the cocaine provided by his host. Talia accepted a flute and watched him pour the champagne with steady hands. Once everyone was topped off, he raised the bottle and shouted, “Here’s to 2018!”

Grigori emptied his flute in two swallows, Talia and Gala sipped their drinks, while Kolya drank from the bottle. Horns blared and shouts of approval came from all directions of the room as corks popped and couples kissed. Gala relaxed after they refilled her glass a second time. Grigori insisted she down a third glass. Liquid overflowed her mouth and dripped down her neck when she attempted a mighty swallow, causing Kolya to break out into hysterical laughter. Grigori joined in, braying like a donkey while Gala gave him a frosty look.

Talia scanned the crowd of revelers, determined to stay sober so she could enjoy the evening. This was, in every sense, her coming-out party. She had to prove herself worthy to these elitists so they would open their hearts, instead of looking down their collective noses because she’d grown up using a tin imitation instead of a solid silver glass holder.

Grigori put his arm around her in a protective fashion and circled the room, introducing her as his fiancée. She smiled at this childish need to claim ownership even though they hadn’t sealed the deal yet. It might happen later, once the room cleared out, and he sank to his knees with the velvet box in his hand.

There was a loud bang, which sounded nothing like fireworks. Talia searched the area and let out a screech when four men brandishing assault weapons stormed into the room. Balaclavas covered their faces, and they were shouting orders in broken Russian. The frightened guests were driven to one side of the living room. Some managed to barricade themselves in the bedroom, but Talia was too far to join them.

Gala and Kolya were sitting on the sofa when the gunmen approached. Fortified with liquid courage and lines of blow, the fool ordered them to vacate the premises. The rat-a-tat of a discharged weapon was a foreign sound to most of the guests, but the bright red blood flowing from multiple wounds was unmistakable. The cream colored wall behind the sofa was splashed with the same deep crimson, as was Gala’s face.

Talia opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Before anyone could react, she and Grigori were dragged out of the suite.

START READING BOOK ONE WHILE YOU'RE WAITING FOR BOOK TWO TO DROP.  TORN IS AVAILABLE IN E-BOOK, PAPERBACK, OR KINDLE UNLIMITED.  AMAZON