“I had a few diamonds added. It’s the one piece I didn’t give up.” She pops the clasp and it falls into her palm as I help her step into the hot bath. “I wanted you to wear it, Dash. I never expected you to pay me back. It was all I could do. I felt so powerless back then.”
I caress her bruised skin with a washcloth and take the diamonds from her, setting them on the side of the tub. They sparkle brilliantly in the light, and I remember back to when the stupid bracelet was all we had, how a simple string of diamonds saved our lives when we were at our very worst.
She picks it up, her hands coated in bath bubbles, her barely pink manicure showing through, and puts the bracelet on me. Sure enough, she’s added enough stones to make it fit my significantly larger wrist.
“Not sure if it’s my style,” I say with a grin.
“Wear it. I want Mother to know that our bond is something she can’t ever break.”
“She’s going to lash out, Taye, when she finds out that she can no longer control you. I can’t see her giving in without a fight.”
“Well, when she comes, we’ll be ready for it,” Taye says resolutely. “You and me against the world, Dash. They can try, but no one can take away our connection.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Natayla
Mother never calls. She comes over instead.
When I open my front door to her sharp knock, I look past her, both ways down the hallway. “How’d you get in here?”
“Your friend Lance helped me find the place.”
“You mean your friend,” I retort.
I cross my arms and stare at her, considering asking her to leave. But something in her eagle-eyed stare unnerves me, and I step aside.
“Does that mean I can come in?”
“I guess so,” I tell her.
I thought maybe I’d feel ashamed or embarrassed or something, but now I feel like all of my emotional capacity has been used up with Dashiell. I’m spent, and my threshold for shame has risen exponentially.
“Is Dad back?”
Mother waltzes into my apartment and looks at it as if it were a filthy dog pound, as if she’s too disgusted to put her purse down.
“He’s returned. We got the living room redecorated in the nick of time. Your father was pleasantly surprised with the new décor.”
Barf. She’s disgusting. “Who’s we?” I ask, wondering if Mother and Lance are choosing drapes and sectionals together.
“Shareen. Who else?” Mother quips.
“Why are you here? I have rehearsal in an hour,” I tell her, looking at my watch.
“I know. Is it true that the hoodlum from Haverton and his mother live in the adjacent apartment?”
“He’s not a hoodlum. He’s like the most celebrated dancer in the world right now, Mother. And yeah, they live next door. Small world, huh?”
“Well, that remains to be seen. I wanted to tell you your presence is needed tomorrow evening, at the apartment. We’re hosting a few of the visiting choreographers, including Donavan Tate. I think you should be there, let them get a feel for how much potential you have and where they could take you as an international dance star. Lance is coming and will be your plus one for the evening. It’s formal, so wear something floor-length. I’d prefer an innocent white or a shy blush, but make sure it’s revealing. Sex appeal never hurt a budding star,” she says, looking me up and down.
God, I’m just a piece of meat to this woman. Something to manipulate and use.
“I gave away my wardrobe,” I tell her frankly.
“Good heavens! Why would you do a stupid thing like that? Never mind. That’s all you ever do, act stupid, and I follow you around mopping up your careless messes. Will you ever grow up, child?”
I want to tell her, scream in her face, let her know that I signed my life over to Dashiell and he’s in charge of my career now. I wear what Dash says, not what Katerina wants to pimp me out in. I choose my roles, not based on Katerina’s hobnobbing or brown-nosing.
“Get out, Mother. I’ll come to your stupid party. But you should know, I hired a manager. I don’t need your help anymore. I’ve moved on.”
“What? How could you do that without consulting me?” Mother looks like she might go into cardiac arrest. She puts a hand to her heart as if I’ve wounded her. With little warning, she steps toward me and slaps me clear across the face. I put my fingers to my flaming cheek, my mouth dropping open in surprise just as Dash walks in the open door.
He takes one look at me holding my cheek, one look at Mother, and strides toward her like a jail warden.
“Katerina, you’re not welcome here. If you’d like to speak to Natayla, you can make an appointment through my secretary,” he states.