CREATURE

・chapter 19・

Roman stretched out lazily on the leather couch in Bastian's office, tossing his keys into the air to amuse himself while he waited. The artistic director had asked to meet with him over lunch, presumably to discuss his roles for the rest of the season. It was a conversation he'd been dreading since he arrived in London, but knew was almost inevitable.

His contract had been clear enough about what he would and wouldn't be doing for them, namely no big stages and no principal roles for the first half of the season. Smaller performances and galas were helping to get him back to his former glory, but he was by no means ready to tackle a full-length classical ballet. But irrespective of all that, he'd predicted that they were going to try to rope him in for a lead anyway.

He threw his keys into the air with his right hand and caught it with his left, closing his fist around the silver bunch. Well, he didn't blame them. They knew as well as he did that they were in the running to make a fortune off him.

The door to the spacious office opened, a dishevelled-looking Bastian emerging from the corridor.

'Sorry I'm late.' the artistic director said, shutting the door behind himself. 'We've got the students here for Nutcracker rehearsals and it's an absolute circus upstairs.'

Unfazed, he didn't respond and just resumed tossing his keys into the air while Bastian sat down at his desk.

'I met with the board this morning.' the artistic director stated, shuffling through some casting sheets. 'We thought we could swing a few things by you.'

Roman sniggered. Of-course the board was pulling the strings. Bastian Acton knew better than to try and manipulate him into anything.

'Alright, well we're doing our usual Nutcrackers over Christmas, and then I'm starting Bayadère rehearsals first thing in the new year.'

Realising he wasn't getting any response aside from the jingling of keys, the artistic director paused before adding something else to his offer. 'There are some galas in between if you'd prefer that.'

Roman stayed silent, his gaze drifting to the glass windows that overlooked the Covent Garden streets. The tour had been exactly what he needed. A chance to prove he still had it in him to perform, sober that is, but without the pressures that came with a full auditorium and classical repertoire. He felt good about it, and it was a relief knowing he still knew how to do it, but he could feel that he wasn't the same dancer he'd been six months ago.

And he could honestly say that for the time being he had no burning desire to fall straight into gruelling fourteen-hour days, invasive press interviews and the non-stop tug-of-war with his body's limits. That would have to wait a while. He had a reputation to live up to, and he needed to be on his A-game when the time came.

'I know you said you wanted time off from the big stage,' Bastian added, 'but the board has agreed that whatever you want is yours.'

Roman nodded distractedly, catching his keys in his fist before dropping it onto his chest. He wasn't interested in talking about roles. No, in the aftermath of the tour he wanted another conversation about Nastasia Radzevich, especially with how things ended up going down in the trio.

He'd partnered countless ballerinas and toward his prime he'd been paired with primas, but shit, that lift was in a class of its own. Up until then he'd wanted her only because of some sidelong observations he'd made in rehearsals, but that night on stage something changed, and a want turned into a need. And that was all before she pulled a powermove on him in a livestream and provoked him into out-spinning her for the sake of some short-lived victory on a screen.

In all his years dancing professionally no one had ever dared do something like that, question his superiority and demand he prove himself or suffer the consequences of being second-best. Until the day before he thought he liked it that way, but she'd shown him then and there that she was what he needed. A challenger.