Pretty Perfect
by Lana Sky
Publication date: May 31st 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance
by Lana Sky
Publication date: May 31st 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance
BLURB
Perfection. It is an illusion
that twenty-year-old Anya DeSotto strives to maintain.
The perfect ballerina.
The perfect daughter.
The perfect liar.
Everyone else seems fooled by the
charade—but Anya isn’t prepared for the moment her perfect mask is cracked in
half by someone much more adept at the art of pretending.
Nearly two decades her senior,
Revend Marcus, the owner of a prestigious international ballet company, has no
problem with breaking Anya down to suit his own twisted idea of perfection. But
when a shadow from Revend’s past looms over their futures, and Anya’s
insecurities push their relationship to a violent crescendo, the resulting
chaos threatens to destroy them both.
Though, sometimes, even
destruction can be pretty perfect.
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EXCERPT:
When I
finally left the bathroom and entered the larger rehearsal room, his real voice
berated me from the center of it. “About time. Warm up.”
A
chandelier hanging from the ceiling was already lit, flooding the room with
orange light—as well as illuminating several distinct fixtures. He owned his
own piano, tucked into the corner. There was also a metal dance barre, about
six feet long, placed near the wall before me. Behind it was an even longer
mirror stretching nearly all the way up to the ceiling. My reflection mocked me
from it, wearing a sheer skirt that hung crookedly around my waist.
Revend
frowned at the sight, though who could blame him? How in the hell was he supposed
to transform this robot into a real girl?
“Warm
up,” he barked, gesturing to the barre.
He never
gave me any direction, so I began my usual exercises, focusing on each core
muscle group one at a time. Legs. Arms. Back.
The
mirror threw his reactions in my face, making them impossible to ignore. The
frown when I lifted one leg over the barre. The way it grew more pronounced
when I started to work on the second. How, with every plié, his narrowed gaze
scanned my face for emotion.
“Look at
me.”
I wasn’t
brave enough to mention that I had never stopped. When I glanced over my
shoulder, I found that his real expression wasn’t any warmer than the
reflection.
“We will
do the pas de deux from the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet,” he said. “I
will only rehearse the partner work minus the lifts, but you need to know the
full routine.”
The full
routine. One that just so happened to include an infamous kiss at the end.
Sizing Revend up, I couldn’t tell if he planned on rehearsing that part too.
“Why?” I
asked.
“Why?”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Did you even read the instructions for the next
round of auditions?”
I bit my
lip rather than admitting my lack of preparation out loud. Two weeks. Only then
did it sink in just how little time that was to prepare.
“Get into
the starting position.”
I
stiffened as Revend appeared behind me. Before I could react, his hand captured
my waist.
“En
pointe,” he commanded as his fingers flexed possessively. “Now, begin.”
What was
that saying? Third time’s the charm. It fit there almost, considering that I
had danced the role of Juliet only twice before in my junior year of a
performance arts academy in the city. I had been an understudy at first, only
to be thrust into the lead role when the principal dancer got sick off bad sushi.
The reviews in the community newspaper read something along the lines of,
Beautiful production but stiff female lead—an opinion Revend seemed to second.
“Don’t
tense,” he hissed. His hands went to my shoulders, correcting my posture with
precise nudges. “You’re stifling your own motion.”
“I
don’t—”
“You
don’t speak. You dance.”
Dance. I
used the command as an excuse to move away from him, but I could never escape
my own reflection. The woman performing a series of light steps alongside me
was no Juliet. Maybe just a jilted member of the corps shoved onto the very
back of the stage as a nameless extra: servant number one.
“Stop!”
Revend snarled halfway through the variation. Tearing a hand through his hair,
he retreated to the other end of the room.
For the first
time, I realized he didn’t have his cane. It leaned against the chair in the
corner.
“You’re a
young girl,” he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the walls. “You’re in
love. Passionate. Show me.”
How did
people show passion outside of forced luncheons and silent dinners? Maybe this
damn ballet held the answer; the act began with Juliet rushing excitedly to
meet her Romeo. One count passed. Then another as I hesitated on the balls of
my feet.
I didn’t
recall Romeo having graying hair.
“You’re
thinking like a child and not a dancer,” Revend scolded as if reading my mind.
“All that matters is maintaining the illusion. Make me believe it!”
I
launched into the steps without giving myself the chance to believe in
anything—to regret having shown up at this lesson. I was Juliet, prancing
across marble to meet the man she’d admired from afar. Juliet, rising on pointe
to pirouette in her lover’s arms…
And I was
Anya in the arms of Revend Marcus, who seized my waist mid-spin and marshaled
me over to the mirror.
“Look!
Watch your face,” he hissed against my ear. “Your heart is racing. Your body is
tense. But what do you see?”
Negative
traits stood out in stark contrast, impossible to overlook. I only saw someone
in over her head, dressed in a pretty uniform that highlighted the blank,
unnatural expression on her face.
Feel?
Robots
couldn’t feel.
“Forget
the dance.” He captured my head with his hands, raking his fingers through that
perfect bun at the nape of my neck. “Only feel.” His thumb brushed the corner of
my mouth as if to give me a sensation to study.
When I
flinched, the nail grazed my lip. My chin. Lower…
“Ignore
the source. Focus on the feeling and take what you need from it to create your
own illusion.”
What I
needed?
Maybe for
him to stop touching me. My own family didn’t touch me. They looked. They
watched. Monitored. Pitied. Hugs were for real girls; robots simply needed
daily programming. The firmer Revend’s fingers dug into my hip, the more my
insides twisted, struggling to register every sensation. Too warm. Too hard.
Everywhere.
“S-stop—”
“No.” He
muscled in even closer. My back struck his chest, his right thigh caging my
hip. “Ignore everything but what you need to craft your illusion.”
Easier
said than done. Only his tone kept my heart from racing. He sounded cold, like
a professor attempting to show an ignorant student the folly of her ways. Even
the way he touched me held purpose. His nearness forced my spine to lengthen.
His hands urged my feet to turn out further, my toes perfectly pointed.
“Become
Juliet,” he grunted before standing back. “Move.”
I raised
my arms and turned out my left foot. I’m Juliet. I’m…
“Dead!”
Revend hissed. “You’re already dead before an ounce of poison even touches your
lips.”
Staring
into the empty, blue eyes watching me from the mirror’s surface, I had to agree
with him. I didn’t even recognize the woman he was taunting. Why did she seem
so damn cold?
“Begin
again,” Revend snapped, but I lifted my arms only for him to swat them down.
“Try again. Move. Feel, Anya.”
He made
it sound so damn easy. Feel. But how could I with no lines to recite? No fake
smile to wear for show? No daddies to lie to or mommies to placate?
No
script.
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Author Info
Lana Sky is a reclusive writer in
the United States who spends most of her time daydreaming about complex male
characters and legless cats. She writes mostly paranormal romance, in between
watching reruns of Ab Fab and drinking iced tea. Only iced tea.
Drain Me is her debut novel and
the first novel in the upcoming "Ellie Gray Chronicles."
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