Chapter 14

At this announcement, the younger dancers erupted in excited squeals and whispers.

“Oh my God, Luigi Maggiore is coming here?”

“I heard he hasn’t attended a social event in months!”

“Do you think he’s looking for new talent to sponsor?”

The company scattered to their dressing rooms, frantically touching up makeup and adjusting costumes, each hoping to catch the eye of Boston’s most eligible widower.

Only Ariana remained frozen in place, her mind racing with alarm.

Why would Luigi come backstage? Even during his most obsessive pursuit of her years ago, he had never once visited her behind the scenes–his assistants had simply delivered roses or arranged town cars.

Her thoughts spiraled into darker territory. Was this somehow connected to the revenge plots he’d schemed with his friends? Had he somehow recognized her despite the mask? Was he planning some new humiliation as punishment for deceiving him with her false death?

Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms as fragmented memories of the ninety–eight “pranks” flashed through her mind.

“Ariana,” Margaret’s concerned voice cut through her panic. “You’ve gone completely white.”

“I just-” she managed, her usual composure crumbling.

“You don’t look well at all. Perhaps you should return to the hotel before he arrives. I’ll make your excuses–some diplomatic nonsense about vocal rest affecting your breathing. Don’t worry about Maggiore–we’ve got plenty of donors without him.”

Ariana nodded gratefully, not trusting her voice. With a quick pivot, she headed for the stage door, not even pausing to remove her performance mask or change from her costume.

avy velvet curtain,

approaching footsteps echoed from

thrilled you’ve joined us tonight.

She quickly ducked into a shadowed alcove used for quick costume changes, pressing herself against the wall as Luigi

Swan’s Final Revenge

in the owned hacker, ly nadomeške arah tha the Hy wat Matra

in various stages

overlapping as

danced the second

an honor to

show you

RMA MARA

created a suffocating cloud of

sweetness reminded him, by warkoor, offs sample sent over clean

four

Something–someone–had drawn him here, and it wasrt

ambitions.

the perfume fog the faintest trace of jasmine and something undgquely familiar. His body recognized it before his mind could

with renewed focus until locking onto a shadowed alcove where a figure in a pink costume

principal dancer, wouldn’t it?” he asked abruptly, cutting

mid–sentence.

every eye in the room toward

by attention, she felt her pulse stutter, then race wildly. The artistic director, realizing Ariana hadn’t managed to escape, shot her an apologetic glance

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