Page 91 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
He jerks me along so that I stumble. “That’s beside the point. You’ve been a pain in my ass for a while.”
I’m so lost as to what’s going on.
Ignazio’s never been a walk in the park, but there’s something off about his behavior. He scolds me loudly with obvious glances around as though he’s checking to make sure we’re within earshot of Nero’s men. He won’t let go of me and seems eager to show off how easily he can bully and push me around.
I’m more than used to his harsh words. His criticisms ranged from deep-dive critiques of my dance technique to cruel comments about my body shape and weight.
He shoves me into the dressing room that’s commonly used by the understudy, and then eases the door shut, promising the men I’ll be out in a few minutes.
“I’ll get her changed and she’ll be ready to go!” he calls.
The second we’re alone, I can’t hold back any longer. I slap him across the face. It’s a bold move that’s unlike me, but I’ve been bullied and pushed around enough for one day. Any further punishment I’ll suffer is worth it.
The sound bounces off the walls of the cramped room. His cheek reddens from the hit. He takes a step into me and forces me back one.
“Don’t ever put your hands on me!” I say. “I’m not going to let you touch—”
“Listen here, you stupid girl,” he snarls through clenched teeth. His eyes flash with the same kind of warning they used to during practice whenever one of the dancers messed up. “Lower your voice. Don’t you see what I’m doing? That I’m trying to help you out?”
“Wha… what?”
“Nero’s men are watching. They’re here waiting on his arrival.”
“Nero’s coming to the theater—?”
“That’s right. To collect you. But first, he wants you to dance for him. Like old times.”
My brain feels crowded with confusing, contradictory thoughts. I blink several times. “He couldn’t have wanted me just for that.”
“It’s not just for that. You know why he’s demanded your return. Do you have it?”
“Have… what?”
“The code,” Ignazio says, then he moves even closer. I’m trapped between him and the vanity table behind me. “Your mother said you have it.”
“You’ve been in touch with my mother?”
“We’re going to pull off the impossible, you stupid girl. You do as I say, we’ll get out of here in one piece. We’ll be able to find your mother and gain the upper hand. Got it?”
No. This couldn’t be more confusing.
“My mother’s never mentioned she’s told you about it.”
“That’s because I’m undercover. Who else do you think was responsible for protecting you for so many years? I could’ve sold you off many different times. There was no shortage of fans interested in spending a night with you. Do you think any other handler would’ve protected you like I have?”
My brows knit in confusion. “I guess not…”
“Get dressed. Now. Quickly. We don’t have much time.”
“I haven’t even warmed up—”
“There’s no time. Hurry.”
I sigh and do as Ignazio says.
The lone costume dangling from the rack in the corner happens to be in my size. A coincidence that’s no coincidence at all but clearly meant for me. I slip into the leotard and sparkling tulle skirt and then rush to do what I can with my hair.
It’s the fastest, least polished preparation I’ve ever had before a performance on the stage.