・C H A P T E R 5・

Over the course of the next week Asya had class with Roman on the daily, and the Russian prodigy never ceased to amaze. He turned like a drill bit, defied gravity when he jumped and had mastery over his technique that was nothing short of supernatural.

The various resident teachers and instructors had noticed him too. He often stayed after class, and she'd seen him coming out of various studios after hours, although she hadn't noticed him on any castings. The company definitely had plans for him though, and they were making sure the best of the best were training him for something big. 

Save for a few polite nods Roman hadn't really spoken to her again, but she had a decided feeling that he was watching her, too. During centre practice she could see him in the mirror and at the barre he was always just a few spaces away, slipping her a glance every now and again. Knowing he was looking made her do strange things, really.

Somehow the attention of the king of Russian ballet had her trying to impress him. She worked for his recognition like she'd never worked in company class before.

Appreciative stares from the ballerinas and jealous glares from the men told her she wasn't the only one who was a little starstruck. 

But her pride kept her from Googling him, or even seeming remotely interested by mentioning it to Julian. That would definitely end in another lecture about 'being smart'. 

Sleeping Beauty was running for another two weeks, but Asya had that evening off to recover after a double show yesterday.  It was an effort to drag herself out of bed that morning, but several cups of coffee had assisted her in making it to company class. She could take a long afternoon class and go to bed early, after amusing Ivan, of course.

Castings for next season were coming out soon, and rumours had been circling that there was a tour in the books. A tour on which the company were taking their most elite dancers. Only their most elite dancers.

And Asya wanted it. 

But she wasn't even a principal dancer. She knew her chances were slim to say the very least, but that didn't deter her from wanting put in some extra hours. 

Asya stepped out of company class and made for the changing rooms to take a shower. She had a meeting with Bastian, a seasonally routine thing where dancers get to discuss personal goals for the upcoming season. Prospects for roles and promotions also usually came up. She was never really nervous about these types of things, just fidgety.

Sure, she knew that at her age soloist was unheard of, but she was just as mature and hardworking as anyone else. Her age hadn't earned her much respect, but her repertoire did. And she had yet to disappoint. 

Asya wanted a principal role. Bigger audiences, more attention, and better pay.

She changed into a simple pair of black pants and pulled a faded green jersey over her head. She applied a quick coat of lipgloss, twisted her hair into a bun and set off for Bastian's office, which was situated on the other side of the building.

Bastian Acton had, in his day, been an exceptional dancer himself. After retiring from a wildly successful career in France he'd come to take over the Royal Ballet. For the past eight years he'd won the company plenty of excellencies and choreographed many productions himself. Despite his rigorous demands from both staff and performers, he was fair. 

Bastian had been kind to her from the start. He'd approached her at White Lodge after her graduating exams to offer her a contract and checked in with her a few times during her first weeks at the company. Asya had tremendous respect for him. 

She took a steadying breath before knocking. Calm, she told herself. Calm, collected, promotable. A faint 'come in' preceded her pushing the oak door open.

For the next hour Bastian mulled over the upcoming season with her, detailing which roles he thought she'd fit, but it was during the last section of the meeting that Bastian really got Asya's attention.

'As you probably know, I'm staging La Bayadère next season.' the artistic director sat back in his chair. 'Now. I have been dangling a principal role in front of your nose almost since you arrived here. Audiences received the Lilac Fairy with staggering positivity, not that I'm at all surprised.'

Asya nodded in understanding. Get to the damn point, Bastian.

'As you know, La Bayadère offers two positions for a leading female. One of those roles would go to a principal dancer.'

There was a moment of deafening silence that felt like it lasted forever.

'But I'd be very grateful if you went after the second, Nastasia. And naturally, I would favour you as a choice when it comes to casting, but that will depend on your performance leading up to the decision.'

Asya. Couldn't. Breathe.

La Bayadère.

Principal role.

She could dance, she could really dance-

'Th-thank you.' she stuttered. Bastian smiled at her. 

'Before I send you off, I have had an interesting inquiry about you over the past week. As you probably know by now, we're hosting a guest performer from Russia, Roman Zharnov.'

Asya's attention perked up again.

'He's asked about you on two separate occasions, and if I were you,' Bastian looked gravely serious, 'I'd keep him in my corner. A dancer like that could mean great things for you, Nastasia. And if he had his eye on you, keep it there.'

***

Asya practically soared out of Bastian's office. She could go after a principal role. A principal role.

She would have to train. Harder.

But she was ready.

To compete.

And win.

***

Asya slumped into the floor, sliding down the wall of the studio as she tried to regain her breath. She was pushing herself, she needed to. She had a week off before she started seriously rehearsing again, and she needed to improve her technique, get herself in gear. Taking a long drain from her water bottle, she rested her back against the wall and closed her eyes for a minute.

When she blinked her eyes open again, she noticed a figure towering over her, and upon looking up she was met by a familiar set of brilliant blue eyes. She offered him a friendly smile.

'Hi.' Roman greeted, sitting down opposite her.

'Hey.' she replied. I probably look a mess, she thought, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

He stretched out his long legs, leaning back on his hands and regarding her with a mild, slightly unfazed curiosity. She felt his eyes rake over her bare shoulders and arms, lingering a little on her torso before meeting her gaze again. Asya smirked at him, remarking that it felt good knowing the king of Russian ballet liked what he saw. 

Returning the favour she regarded his frame as well, noticing how his shirt hugged his shoulders, a silvery Cuban chain barely visible around his neck. Oh hi, she thought.

'You looked good today.' he said evenly. 

'Thanks.' she replied, slipping him an appreciative smile. Bastian had been clear: get his attention, and keep it. Not only that, she supposed. 

Roman had a bad-boy look. Watching him dance was exhilarating, sure, but watching him up close was a different ball game. His dark hair had fallen over his arctic blue eyes, he had these faint dimples when he smiled. He'd be interesting to f-

'Asya.' a familiar voice growled from beside her. She looked up to find a none-too-pleased looking Ivan glaring down at her. 

'Ivan,' she purred, flitting her gaze purposefully to the Russian marvel beside her, 'you know Roman. He's a guest-'

'I know who he is.' Ivan snapped.

Asya read body language better than most people. And written all over Ivan's tense shoulders, wide stance and poisonous frown was some good old-fashioned, territorial jealousy.

Asya loved it. 

'I want to work some lifts with you.' Ivan called bluntly over his shoulder, turning on heel. 

'I'll be right there.' she replied sarcastically. 

The ballerina flashed an apologetic smile at Roman before setting off after her furious partner.