are, but still. Personally, this is a step too far. Or…it could just be because I hate things like this. The fucking Opera, please. We’re not Opera people.
It’s not my job to second guess K, though. It’s my job to do what he says, try to protect him, and fight by his side. All of which I will do to my very last breath because K? He gave me a life worth living. I have prestige, money, power, and a reputation in Moscow as a deadly, high-ranking member of K’s crew. It’s a long way away from the street thug I had to be in St. Petersburg. It’s a long way away from the young boy who found himself fawned over by men who were so much older and disgusting.
Nobody will touch me without my permission now. No one will beat me without fearing what I’ll do in retaliation.
K did that for me, so I will do this for him. It’s a small thing to sit stuffed in this suit for a few hours, I tell myself. If I start to feel trapped and panicked, well, I’ll simply think about something else.
We arrive at the Opera, and sure enough as we step out of the car, a dapper gent appears as if by magic and leads us to a side door, away from the main entrance and the crowds there We head down a back corridor, and I glance at Damen. How good is he with a gun? Christ, I wish Andrius were here. I’ve never seen anyone who can shoot with the deadly, calm accuracy of that man, and that includes the boss.
We get drinks and are told we can take them with us. I’ve never been in a theatre where you could take your drinks to your seat.
“Are you sure?” I ask the woman showing us to our seats.
“You’ve booked a box,” she says. “You can drink in your own box.”
“A box?” Damen looks to Maya and shakes his head.
“What?” she hisses. “You’re all massive. Can’t see any of you fitting easily into the tiny rows of chairs in the main auditorium.”
She has a point.
We settle into our plush seats, and I relax another notch. Up here, I can see the whole theatre. We aren’t sitting ducks the same way we might be in the audience. It’s a damned good bet that myself, Reece, Damen, and K will be mostly watching the crowd and not the production.
“How long is this?” Damen mutters.
“Longer than usual because there’s a ballet section too,” Maya says.
“Are you trying to get into trouble?” Damen asks, his voice low, but I hear him.
“Maybe I am,” she replies with a smirk.
He grins, and I look away, not wanting to see their happiness for some reason.
“What’s this ballet bit about?” Cassie asks. “I’ve always wanted to see the ballet.”
“Well, the two often went together, but now most Opera houses purely have the opera. In Paris they also have the ballet, and today’s performance has both. The ballet isn’t simply a part of the opera, but its own performance, which is why it’s longer than usual.”
I settle into my seat and glance behind me. The two paid men K bought with him from England are standing at the back of the box, arms crossed in front of them, alert.
Fuck it, I take a sip of my drink. Damn, that’s good whisky. I won’t have much. Need to keep my senses about me. Reece, I notice, isn’t drinking at all. K has a whisky, but he only sips at it now and again. Damen has a beer, which makes me smile. I bet Maya wishes he’d drink something else.
The opera starts, and even I admit it’s beautiful. The voices of the two main singers transcend normality and make me think of heaven and hell, and angels and demons. They make me think of my past.
I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable. The ballet makes me think of my past. Of Dasha. She dreamed of being a ballerina, but I expect that dream got dashed on the rocks of reality. She’s probably working somewhere in a dead-end job like most of the people from back home.
The thought makes me feel victorious yet sad. It’s a strange combination.
The opera goes on and on, and then it’s the interval, and then more opera. It finally ends, and I wonder if I blinked and missed the ballet dancers? I stretch my legs and prepare to head home, thank fuck, but the curtain