Waiting as the daylight faded into dusk and eventually into night, I zone out. I can’t keep letting her run away, especially not now my father had his eye on her. She needed me to protect her. To push her. To make her see how fucking incredible she was. The stupid masquerade ball was in a few days, and Lena would be paraded around like a prized cow with her violin before the entire town.
A light flicks on, filling the studio with brightness, and my chest tightens as I see Lena strip off down to a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants before pulling her ballet shoes on. I can tell they’re the ones without the blocks from this distance by the way her posture is more relaxed, but I also know from experience that this means she’ll be pushing herself harder. I watch as she stretches and warms up, the way she spends time carefully bending and pushing herself lets me know that tonight will be intense.
I’m proved right as she begins to spin, doing delicate chaîné turns across the studio before moving into pirouettes. I don’t know what music she’s listening to as she suddenly starts to move like she’s in a K-pop music video, poppin’ and locking her body before dropping to her knees and doing positions on the floor like a hip-hop dancer. All I know is that she’s burning so fucking bright when she’s like this, all that passion lighting her up from the inside as she sweats and moves every muscle.
Fuck. I was obsessed. Consumed. Elena was mine. And I was going to prove it to her at the ball. There would be no escape for her there, I’d make sure of it.
Chapter Fifteen
Elena
Tonight’s the masquerade ball, and it feels like I’m suffocating. It isn’t just one thing either, it’s everything. I’ve been thinking about quitting the cheerleading squad after what happened, but I didn’t know how to approach my father. I didn’t want to be a disappointment, but I couldn’t imagine he would take it well since he was about to start campaigning again. People were treating me differently in school, some with reverence and others with fear as they walked past me in the corridor, and despite Quinn’s support, I couldn’t get used to it.
As the limo pulls up to the city hall, I look down at my hands. My fingers ache from practicing the violin intensely, and my concealer hides the faint bruise on my chin. I know I’m not as awful as Tristan likes to joke, but he is right. There is no heart in what I play. I don’t enjoy it, and you can hear that in the melody, the notes feel heavy and forced, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
I’m wearing a gold floor-length, strapless dress with a corseted waist and a sweetheart neckline, which is doing wonders for my figure but nothing for my comfort. I try to adjust discreetly, but my father rolls his eyes as he sits opposite me in a white tuxedo with a white half-mask, while my mother wears a blood red gown with a thigh-high split and a black venetian-themed mask with feathers. They both look like the embodiment of wealth, as they sit, not touching or talking to one another.
“If you had followed the eating plan my secretary sent you, the dress would fit perfectly,” he says with a grimace, looking away as if he’s disgusted by me.
I murmur under my breath as I try once again to adjust, “You mean the one that had me eating air three times a day with a side of anorexia as a snack?”
My mother chuckles softly while my father turns to me, eyes narrowed as he hisses, “What was that? Were you being insolent?”
I shake my head, mortified that he heard. I hadn’t meant to be that loud. There’s that feeling again, that anger just slowly churning away inside me as the bones of my corset bite into my skin. Why did I need to lose weight? Wasn’t I pushing my body hard enough as it was? Why did he choose this dress? Couldn’t I have picked my own? The corner of my mother’s mouth pulls up into a half-smile, and I know she’s waiting to see what I’ll do. She wants me to give in, to do whatever I want, but it's a trap. I need to behave. I need to be a good girl. I inhale slowly and count to ten.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I whisper as the door is opened by the driver.
“Get out. And both of you had better mind your manners tonight. Do I make myself clear?” His voice is cold, but his public persona begins to slip into place as he plasters on a huge fake smile before climbing out of the car.
“Yes, Randolph,” my mother sighs before winking at me. I don’t need to know what she had planned, but there was no way she was going to be a docile wife this evening. Not behind the scenes anyway.
We walk up the grand stairs and pose for photos with the local press before entering the hall. Together we look like the perfect family, accomplished father, beautiful wife, and gifted daughter, all smiling and posing for the public. If only they knew what was happening beneath the surface.
“Miss, your violin is just in the room to your left. We’re ready for you to come on stage as planned in about forty-five minutes,” a member of staff informs me as we stand near the entrance of the ballroom. Why didn’t I put my foot down about this? Why didn’t I tell my father no?
“Are you ready to perform?” he asks, and I feel like my throat is closing up. I want to scream no, but it doesn’t come out. I nod because that’s all I can do.
He leans in, and to those passing by he looks like a doting father wishing me luck
