I studied Anastasia closely; her body language showed exhaustion, but she did her best to maintain an enthusiastic impression.

She may be a brat who required the need to be bent over my knee and spanked, but she was surprisingly well-behaved with her peers. They circled her as they discussed, and my little kitten was expressive.

All she has ever shown me was anger and desire, but this side was certainly appealing.

After our talk a few days ago, I haven’t seen much of her. She asked me things I had anticipated. Knowing Lisa, she probably ran her mouth about the things I had her handle.

Anastasia asked about her father’s debt, if I was responsible for them and if I had kept an eye on her for the last two years. I replied honestly. I expected more questions but it never came.

I could also tell she was conflicted about something, and her actions only confirmed what Dr. Keller told me after examining her.

Anastasia left my room without a word after that, and the rest I saw of her was through the cameras in her room. She recuperated, and two days later, she began her classes.

There was a smile on her lips. One of those rare ones I never got to see, and this time it wasn’t directed at me, but a man in tights.

He looked ridiculous in that thing, and his efforts to make her laugh were putting me in a very difficult position.

If I shoot him between the eyes, I might end up ruining my wife’s career. As much as that sounded tempting, I knew how much dancing meant to her; it was the one thing she could control and bend as she saw fit, and also a place she could get herself consumed.

Anastasia’s smile widened as she said something to him, to which he nodded. She twirled, and he held her waist, the vein on my forehead almost popping.

"Men in tights," Dante commented beside me in a scoff. "Who approved this level of confidence? I don’t fucking know where to look, and that’s a problem."

"You in makeup gives the same appeal," I remarked, my eyes burning a hole through that hand pinned on Anastasia’s waist.

"This is gonna follow me around till I hit the grave, isn’t it?" He sighed. "That fucking picture has been reposted many times. At this point, the whole fucking world has seen me like that."

Anastasia twirled to face him, hands on his shoulder as she rose to her tiptoes, her face inches apart from his.

I slowly brought the cigar between my fingers to my lips, but I was so focused on trying to control myself to stay seated to even bother.

"The brochure looks neat. Ana is the lead performer. She has always dreamed of that, yes?"

"Mhm."

"She must be so happy about it. I mean, look at her, she’s practically glowing. You must be so proud of her, yet you look one second away from tossing a cannon on that stage."

"I’m observing," I replied distractedly.

"Observing or picturing a million ways to start an apocalypse? You do know this sort of thing requires a partner, right? Apparently partners in tights."

"I’m aware."

Dante chuckled. "This should be fun."

The director stepped onto the stage, giving instructions. Half of the time, the chains behind my self-control to remain poised were melting. They kept falling back into each other’s arms, and I don’t fucking care if they were working a routine or whatever their order was called.

When he released Anastasia, she spun forward.Her hands in the air, delicately swayed up and down. I have watched this more times than I could count, yet I could never get used to how captivating she was.

Every single person in this theatre could tell that it wasn’t just the dance, it was the way she poured her emotions into it. She poured all her heart into it.

"Oh, the struggle. My wife’s career or my obsession," Dante was practically reeling in amusement.

He does this every time he comes with me to watch her every performance. Unlike how reserved he always was, this was a safe space where he could constantly get under my skin, knowing I’m too taken over to bother.

I pressed the bottom of the cigar into the ashtray and pushed to my feet.

"Leaving so soon? Just try not to scare the entire theater with that expression."

I exited the private box and took the staircase to the main floor. Sinking my hands into my pockets, I walked down the aisle. One by one, my presence captured their attention, and at the mere glimpse of me, murmurs reverberated and distracted the whole setting.

Anastasia looked toward my way, her smile dropping instantly, the action compelling my lips to stretch wider.

She passed a nervous look around her peers as if to magically conceal me from them.

"Hello, darling," I said when I neared the stage. "How’s rehearsal going?"

"What... what are you doing here?" she asked in a murmur.

"Mr. Salvero!" The director, Mrs. Valmont, walked down the stairs and came to me. "This is such an honor. Had I known you were coming, I would have made the proper arrangements."

"It was on short notice. I found myself missing my wife, so I flew back from London."

Anastasia’s cheeks burned as the dancers murmured between themselves, followed by giggles.

"I hope she isn’t exhausting herself too much." I flicked my eyes to Mrs. Valmont. "I wouldn’t be pleased if these routines are tedious for my wife."

"Of course not! I made sure she had lots of rest. Actually, we’re almost finished."

"Don’t mind me then, I’ll just wait here." I helped myself to the front row seat.

Anastasia looked one second away from telling me off, but for the first time in a while, she didn’t, eyes carefully passing around to make sure no one caught her annoyance.