HIS BALLERINA HUMAN MATE

ELENA'S POV

My toes were hurting in my ballet shoes.

Every step, every leap, every spin sent sharp pain through my feet, but I kept my smile fixed and my posture flawless. The theater was packed, and all eyes were on us, but especially on me as an odette, hungry eyes, admiring eyes, eyes that drank me in as though I were something more than flesh and bone.

My arms lifted, my body stretched more with a wide smile but inside I was breaking. My feet screamed, my chest ached, and all I wanted was for the music to stop. The joy they saw wasn’t mine, it was theirs, reflected back at them like a cruel trick.

The music continued to thunder through the theater, every note vibrating in my chest as my body moved with the rhythm I had rehearsed a thousand times.

Perfection hurt, sweat dripped down my spine beneath the sequined costume but still, I spun, lifted, and fell into the arms of the dance, surrendering to the music until the final note cut through the air.

The applause rose like waves, crashing against me, filling the stage with heat and adoration. I should have felt proud. I should have felt alive. That’s what every ballerina dreamed of , spotlight, perfection, devotion from strangers who would never know the cost of what they worshiped.

But beneath the glitter of the costume and the painted mask of my face, I felt nothing but the grinding ache in my body and the hollowness echoing in my chest. They were happy, entranced, maybe even in love with the illusion before them. And me? I was counting the seconds until the music ended.

I spun into the final pose, my arms curved with grace I no longer felt, and the curtain dropped. For a moment, the darkness behind the stage swallowed me whole. The applause roared on, but it was muffled now, distant, like a sound reaching me from another world.

I hurried offstage with the others, my smile collapsing the second I was out of sight. Backstage, the air was different no applause, no music, just the heavy stench of sweat, hairspray, and damp fabric. I had sweat too sliding down my temples, breath ragged, and my toes screaming as I stumbled down the narrow hall toward the bathroom.

Inside, the silence was thick. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as I braced my hands on the sink, staring at the mirror. My reflection looked almost foreign, painted face, wet hair clinging to my temples, eyes too bright from exhaustion and adrenaline. My reflection looked like a doll, hollow behind the makeup.

With trembling fingers, I began pulling pins from my bun, letting my hair fall heavy and damp against my shoulders. My body throbbed from the performance, but in the quiet, the ache felt sharper. I peeled the tight costume from my skin, changed quckily into a soft dress, and for a moment , just a moment I let myself believe the night was over.

I thought l was free not until when the door out of the blue creaked open. One of the assistants slipped inside and spoke immediately. “The director wants to see you. Right away.”

My stomach tightened. “Now?”

She didn’t answer, just gave me a look before disappearing again.

I swallowed hard, and tightened my coat around myself before making the long walk down the corridor. The director’s office loomed at the far end, a door I had never entered without nerves twisting my stomach. Tonight, those nerves clawed deeper. My throat dried more as I raised my hand to knock, but before I could, the door creaked open.

"Just come in",

I heard his voice then entered. As usual, the smell that hit me first was cigars, leather, and his annoying cologne. He looked up as I walked further in the room with a smile too thin to be kind.

"You can have a sit", He gestured for me to sit. My legs shook as I lowered myself into the chair.

He didn’t waste time the moment I sat down. “You danced beautifully tonight", He started. "Ah, thank you for appreciating", I smiled forcefully. "Yes you did good, did you even notice that there was someone very important in the audience. A billionaire whose eyes never left you.”

"He is one of our biggest investors", He added and I blinked confused.

“What… what does that have to do with me?”, My hands gripped the edges of my coat.

His smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It means you’ve caught his attention. And when a man like that wants something, we give it to him. That’s how this company survives.”

I felt my blood run cold, my body stiff against the leather chair. My lips parted, but no words came.

I later shook my head, confusion and dread tangling in my chest. “I… I don’t understand—”

He cut me off, his tone turning hard and merciless.

"You know I don’t explaining myself. You either fuck him or you will no longer be a ballerina in my company." His words made me freeze for a moment. My throat went dry and my body went numb too. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. I trained my whole life for the stage, not to be someone’s prostitute.

"When?" I asked, tears already forming in my eyes.

"TONIGHT."

That one word shattered everything inside me. It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

"Honestly.. I can't.. I am already exhausted...", I tried to speak but he slammed his hand on the table ,cutting me short in mid sentence.

"Elena, I don't want you to be stupid, I am doing this for you know you need this money to solve your hospital bills",

"I know ... but I am not a prostitute",

"I have already set you up in the Yellow Haven Suite. It's fifteen minutes away and you have just about one hour to meet this guy on time", My eyes snapped up immediately.