22. Evan

22

EVAN

C ontrol.

It defines my existence as much as the favors I deal out define my sense of purpose, give me meaning.

I'm autonomous. I do my job. I get things done .

Occasionally, they want a detailed report and it becomes clear that lately, I've gotten sloppy. I've made a few mistakes. It's drawing attention. Especially with the biggest event of the year coming up at the end of the month.

The Sinner's Ball. Sanctum's very own Carnival Masquerade.

A night of deals.

Debauchery.

It's also my sole responsibility to coordinate.

Except that I've been… distracted.

The studio is quiet in the early hours of the morning. I need the time to warm up, clear my head. Swinging my arms out to the sides, breathing deep. Control.

In my six years of working for the Sinful, I have kept myself in check.

I have poured every ounce of energy into staying focused. Staying on task.

It's a cost I pay, denying the wild creature I was in my youth. I only allow it to come forth on stage, and even then, I keep a tight leash on my urges.

That is, until Hellena Michaels singlehandedly, and with one dance, decimated my existence.

Every waking moment, her body haunts me. Like an imprint from the sun, every time I close my eyes, I see her dancing, spinning.

And I see her on that platform across from me in the dance hall, bent over and screaming.

If I continue down this path, I'll become the animal I used to be. I'll forfeit everything that I sacrificed to get where I am.

Every moment I spend with Hellena seems to break down my defenses. She drives me insane, constantly testing me, asking me questions that I don't want to give answers to.

I'll say it again. She's too clever for her own good.

Or maybe she's too clever for my own good.

"Damn." Her voice cuts into the stillness.

"Wasn't sure you would come." I drop back onto my feet from a handstand, taking her in. The tank top and yoga pants leave little to the imagination, accenting every thick curve.

"How could I resist practicing with you ?" It's teasing and scathing at the same time. She's mad that we haven't talked.

It was foolish of me to let her in as far as I have. As if I could have kept her at arm's length. She's too tenacious, and I want her too badly.

"Speaking of dancing. Warm up. Start with leg swings."

"Yes sir!"

I'm going to regret this. As she gets ready, I flow through a few moves, keeping an eye on her form.

Perfect. For more reasons than just my own visual satisfaction.

In the wake of the sweet release of watching Hellena finger herself right here in the dance studio, I made a decision. I came up with a plan.

It's difficult. It's simple.

It's the right thing to do.

The animal within me screams that I'm betraying her. That I'm a monster.

That's just something I'll have to live with.

New orders from my superiors put things in perspective.

So, I need to get her ready. I need to see it through and pick up the pieces afterward.

The first step is to get her training. Dancing with me.

"I can't believe I agreed to this." She stretches, touching her toes, spreading that fantastic ass for me to see. On purpose. It doesn't help that we're in the studio where she…

"You're too good of a dancer not to. You will make our routine, this upcoming show, truly inspirational."

"And what is this big show? You still haven't filled me in on anything , as usual."

"A surprise." It's a fine line to walk, being nice to her and being strict. In effect, our relationship has become a dance, in addition to training together.

My plan depends on her performing. It's another step in the overall game, one I hope I can get her through with the least amount of damage done.

She drags a finger across my chest as she walks by. "What's in it for me?"

I can tell she's intrigued. Especially since I've been dangling the carrot in front of her about this big event, one she's also been coordinating this past week, making calls to performers, caterers. She can't resist the clues I've left.

"Giving a performance the likes of which no one in Sanctum Harbor has ever seen."

"Ugh. Why does that mysterious, coy bullshit always work on me?"

"Because you're a dreamer, like me."

"You are so melodramatic." Hellena smiles snidely. "Play some damn music already and tell me what to do!" She's eager. She wants to make it right with me. A part of me longs to make it right with her as well.

I can't do that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I've kept her bogged down in paperwork. Starving her out.

Now, I use her ambition. Her drive.

"Can you do the splits?" I raise one eyebrow, and she cocks her head to the side, biting her lip. Maybe this will be fun, after all.

A few days slip by, and we've taken to training together every morning, sometimes in the afternoon, as well. I find each day that I crave her touch, her body in my hands, bending, twisting, spinning.

She shows off some incredible moves as I show her the steps to my latest work, ad-libbing on my themes. The flourishes she adds have me grinning like an idiot. No other student or dance partner has ever shown such an aptitude or ability. She's graceful, limber.

Ever since we broke through her presumed stage fright, she's a phenom on the dance floor. Now, I need to get her to the next level.

"Again! Do it four more times until it's muscle memory!" I shout, pacing along the full wall mirror, ignoring her growl of frustration. "Now tie it into a leg hold turn…"

"Oh, sure, easy," Hellena snaps. And then she does it.

"See? You're a natural."

"That's all fine and dandy with just us here. I'm having second thoughts about actually doing this for an audience. It's a big step." The angry admission has her clamming up again.

"I thought we were past this, Hellena."

"One dance while I was buzzed at the Senator's house doesn't defeat years of stage fright!"

"What do you call the last week of rehearsals, then?" I can't keep the smug smile off my face.

Her eyes narrow. "What do you mean? What did you do?"

The flick of a switch has the lights on in the next room, faintly illuminating the audience behind the two-way mirror. Most of them are my other dancers, plus the troupes I brought in from across the globe for the ball.

Hellena pales, then immediately flushes bright red. "You. Asshole."

She's absolutely perfect until the music stops and she opens her mouth. And yet, it sets my blood on fire just as much when we argue.

"Go again!" I shout, clapping off the beat, ignoring her outrage.

"Give me a second, jeez." Her eyes glance toward the door.

I can't let her storm out.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you, Tim Bodden called. He said you did an outstanding job on the layout for his proposal. His fiancée was thrilled. Great work."

"Why, thank you, good sir." Her tone is sarcastic, but her eyes light up at the compliment. She can't resist baiting me.

"Could you for once just take the compliment without the attitude?" I snipe back.

"Could you for once just not stomp on my fun?"

"Fine. Your work was exactly as exceptional as expected. In any event, she said yes. The proposal was a success." Keep her talking…

"It took me all night to set up those damn puzzles, the scavenger hunt. The doves were not happy."

"I hate working with animals. It's cruel to them, frankly."

She gives me that look, the one that only happens when I say something kind or off-center from the image she has of me. "Working with you is always cruel."

"Couldn't resist, could you?"

"Nope."

"You're not wrong, though. From the top ! One, two, three, four!" I clap out the count, and she glares at me, falling into position. She crouches, feet crossed, waiting for the beat. A note strikes, and she rises.

All in front of an audience.

Another several days sweep by, lost in rehearsals, with her and now with the other dancers.

The end of the month is rushing toward us, and the Sinner's Ball with it.

Hellena towels off after a near-perfect pass through the main theme.

A single bead of sweat trickles down her back, out from underneath her sports bra. I hold my breath as it tracks the curve of her spine.

"Hey, Evan, do you ever do any favors for, um, I don't know…"

"Hellena, don't beat around the bush. Ask."

"Well, there are criminals in Sanctum, right? And it seems like they're just allowed to exist."

"It works like everything else. There are rules. A balance. So, yes. I do favors for them sometimes. It's rare, though. They avoid asking for more than their share. It leaves debts. Imbalance. They're better off just taking the risk and breaking the rules, hoping they get away with it."

"Right… but who decides what the balance is?"

"That is so far above your paygrade, and frankly, it's above mine too. I'm just an agent. An operator, if you will. One branch of the system. I am not always aware of what the other limbs are doing," I deflect, rolling my shoulders as I rise from cooldown stretches.

"But where do you get your orders from?"

This again. "You need to drop it."

"Fine. Have you ever worked with the Block?"

"Do I want to know how you even know about them?"

"Absolutely not."

"I think it's my obligation to warn you, if I haven't already. We do not get involved in the affairs of other ‘players' for a reason."

"And if I happen to have a friend who is involved with one of those players?"

"Hmm. You're friends with Ora Clive," I guess, and she shrugs. "For fuck's sake, Hellena, is it a pastime to go searching for trouble when you're not at work?"

"Trouble likes me, apparently. And I like Ora. What's wrong with our being friends?"

"Aside from the fact that she's got multiple felonies?" I huff. "The problem with getting close with someone who is so heavily inundated in one of the gangs is that it makes you party to their ‘side'. It makes you a target for their opposition."

"Some people make it work."

"Right. Like your roommate? It's bad enough that you're living with that man, but now he's indoctrinating you, too?"

"You didn't seem to have a problem with that man when he accompanied me on the money drop."

"Where you almost got killed."

"They would have kidnapped me or forced me into sex slavery. Gavin protected me. He always does."

"Yes, and look where it got him."

"That has nothing to do with this." Her tone grows defensive.

"Doesn't it, though? The man plays both ends against the middle. This is exactly what we have to be careful of. He works for the Ghosts. He works for the Block. It might not be tomorrow, or next week, but one or the other will get tired of him, or suspicious, and take him out."

"Which is why I want to know why they are allowed to exist in the first place."

"Sanctum Harbor has always been a haven for the unwanted. It attracts people like that. And the best thing to do is to let those people come here and then manipulate them into a semblance of civility."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that we let them have their dirty little games so that they don't cause all out war."

"Is that what you're doing with me?" Hellena's right up in my face. Too close. Not close enough. "Keeping me so busy that I don't have time to argue with you?"

"Touché. Shall we take it again?" I deflect, pressing Play on the song again.

Over the next hour, we maneuver our way through the first half of the story, the heroine meeting the dark angel and falling for him. How he uses her, changes her. It's a bit on the nose, but it works well between us.

The rest of the story is simple, effective in a dance. Conflict, revenge, etc.

"Stop. Try it again. It must be perfect!"

"I'm doing my best," she growls.

"Your best needs to be better ."

"You're such a dick ." Hellena stalks away from me with a feline grace.

"Reset. Ready?"

I move through the poses again, making sure I have the muscle memory down, ready to lift her. She charges in. I catch her and raise her up, rolling onto my back.

"Perfect!"

Her satisfied glare tells me she knows she nailed it. She is nearly ready.

"See? Although, you really need to learn how to do it without getting furious."

"Maybe someday, you'll stop pissing me off constantly ," she snips. The tension is always there, especially after a particular heated encounter.

I stare her down, setting her back on her feet. "You'll learn to trust me eventually."

"You want to talk trust? Every time I think we have trust, you flip the script on me. Or disappear." She paces, working out her frustration. It sets my teeth on edge.

"I've been busy."

"Right. And you've kept me up to my ass too. So there's never time to?—"

"Could you not? Just for once?" I bark, anger flaring.

"Or you could just answer me. Admit that you've been avoiding me."

"I have been avoiding you, but not because of some petty tryst. I'm busy doing my job, and not only my own work, but making sure that everything is lined up for you ahead of time, that the wheels are greased on your jobs."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think it's odd that you haven't had a single issue on a single job since you started?" I shouldn't have said that.

"Maybe it's because I'm good at it!"

"You are. Because I am."

"Oh! So you're the entire reason for my success? You're my knight in fucking shining black armor." She throws her hands up. "You know, sometimes, you have a really twisted way of showing that you care."

"Whoever said I cared?"

"Shut up, Evan. Don't you dare say that." She genuinely looks hurt. My heart stutters at the sight. I've never seen her genuinely upset at me. Aside from her constant irritation and flippant anger. "I need a break."

Without another word, she storms out.