Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
From the first day I spent at Margaret’s home, I was a slave. I did everything for her—I cooked and cleaned, I went grocery shopping, I massaged her feet, I ran errands. She had me quit school and take care of her full-time. And always, there’d be the promise on her thin lips—I’d inherit the apartment when she died. A worthy payment for all the years I’d spent waiting for her hand and foot.
Margaret was sick, she had been since I’d first met her. I prepared cocktails of drugs for her every night, and she never got better, but she never got much worse, either. And before I knew it, I’d turned eighteen, and she’d emotionally blackmailed me into staying longer. What else was I supposed to do? I had no money, no education, and no future. Taking care of Margaret was my only option. And every time she hit me for not being fast enough with her requests, I told myself it would all be worth it in the end, when she’d be—as she used to say—relieved from the constant pain. Then, I would inherit the apartment, and I could finally start taking dance lessons Margaret had always refused to pay for.
Except as it turned out, Margaret had lied to me from the start.
She passed away six months before I started dancing at Le Cabaret, and the apartment she’d promised me turned out to be a rented property, not her own. Not only was I thrown out of it within days of Margaret’s passing, but I also found out the only thing I’d inherited was a debt of ten thousand pounds.
I’d spent four years convincing myself she loved me, but in the end, she delivered the worst blow of all. And to top it all off, I knew her dying was my fault and nobody else’s. A fact I’d have to live with for the rest of my life.
I’d had no choice but to start dancing at Le Cabaret. I spent painstaking hours on stage to repay the woman’s debt, living with the guilt of her death hanging above me. Some days, I wished I’d died instead of her. It was certainly what I deserved.
My thoughts were swimming with Margaret and her demise as Grayson and I made our way to the Opera House. He could tell I was distracted, but didn’t bother me, allowing me to be alone with my thoughts.
But as soon as the performance started, I was hooked, forgetting about my problems if only for an hour or two.
The performance of the Nutcracker had me mesmerized. Grayson had given me a pair of opera glasses, and I watched the production in detail from our balcony seats. We had a private area reserved solely for us, and we had a wonderful view of both dancers and the audience.
I was grateful that Grayson allowed me to watch the ballet without interruption. Sometime in the middle of the ballet, his hand snuck to my knee, gently parting the satin of my dress, and holding onto my leg with firm fingers. His touch sent shivers down my spine, making me even more excited for what was to come. I wanted him to touch me more. I was eager to keep playing with him, but Grayson didn't make a move to continue our game from earlier. I kept my eyes focused on the stage, watching the ballerinas twirl.
Once it was time for the intermission, Grayson gave me a curious look, asking, "You love the ballet, don't you?"
"I do," I admitted, glancing at him with a small smile playing on my lips. "I've always wanted to be a dancer."
"A ballerina."
"Yes."
"So why not do it?"
I laughed bitterly. It was all so easy for him. If he wanted something, all he had to do was pay for it. "I never had the money. I learned by myself and went to many, many auditions. But they never gave me a role."
His brows furrowed as he stared at me. "I want you to dance for me tonight."
"The way I did at Le Cabaret?" I muttered.
"No," he shook his head firmly. "The way you want to dance. The way you love to dance."
My eyes lit up as I looked up at him. He'd just made me happier than he could possibly know. "Thank you, Sir."
"That's quite alright, Kitty. It will be enjoyable for me. Now, would you like a drink or a snack?"
I nodded, and he led me out of our private seating area and ordered a bottle of champagne for us. My eyes glittered as he presented me with a flute of bubbly, and I filled my belly with the sparkling drink. Grayson had some too, also getting me a heart-shaped box of chocolate pralines before we returned to our seats.
"This isn't part of my diet," I teased him as he presented me with the box.