The Diary Of Vaslav Nijinsky

" You wish it was you screaming my name, don't you? " He asked while locking me in place with his gaze. “ I don’t know what you're talking about.” I defended. I clutched the wall behind me as he moved closer with his hand on the door above my head. Our bodies were inches apart and it was getting harder to concentrate because of his bare chest that was muscular and covered with ink. " Tell me principessa, do you think of me when you trail your fingers down your stomach and between your thighs? Do you think of me as you work yourself trying to reach the brick of euphoria? Do you imagine it's my fingers as you work faster to ease the ache between your thighs? Do you scream my name as your walls clench around your digits and your eyes roll to the back of your head when you ? " " you! " I screamed, ignoring the loud thumping of my heart against my chest. " You see, I know girls like you. You've been sheltered all your life and you crave some rebellion. Tattoos, muscular, bad boy, and an Italian accent are your undoing, right? That's all it takes to have you drooling and fawning. I'm I right, principessa? " “ You know nothing about me! " I screamed and he chuckled. “ Oh, but I do. I can smell your arousal begging me to pin you to this wall and show just how much I can make your weep for me. " He whispered in my ear. She's fire and he's ice. Sicily holds many secrets but is Brianna ready for the ones Nikolai has to offer? A life of crime, gunfire, and passion is not what she signed up for. Can she handle the enigma that is Nikolai?

Svanna Rose is the black swan of their family. She's the main character that always play the role of antagonist to her own story. She is like Odile, the evil daughter of sorcerer who disguised as Odette. But who are we to judge her, if we are all pretending to be someone who aren't we? Who are we to judge her if she is also a victim of cruelty? Pursuing her dream to become the prima ballerina of the famous ballet 'The Swan Lake', she found herself stuck in a very dangerous situation. And all she can to do is to take a risk as she was claimed to be the black swan of Saint Vicenzo Santorini. Let's witness how she dance to the danger rhythm of uncertainty, as she slowly unveil the truth behind her cruel destiny. "My passion in dancing brought me to life, little did I know it also leads me to my own graveyard"

Anya Petrova has always lived life her way—strong, fearless, and in control. But when she’s bought by Viktor Romanov, the most dangerous man in Moscow, everything changes. He says he owns her now, but Anya has never been one to bow to anyone. Viktor wants more than her obedience—he wants her to give in to him completely. But Anya is not the kind of woman to back down, and the tension between them is as dangerous as it is irresistible. Viktor is used to getting his way, and Anya’s defiance only makes him want her more. But she’s not someone he can easily control. The more she fights, the deeper Viktor falls, and soon, what started as a battle for power becomes something much more dangerous. But Viktor doesn’t know everything—Anya has secrets even more dangerous than his own. As desire clashes with control, they’re drawn into a world of secrets, betrayal, and a passion they can’t deny. But with enemies everywhere, trusting each other might be the most dangerous risk of all. Warning: Mature content, blood, fights, and explosions.

As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight.

I fought my sister, Anna, for two lifetimes to become the Donna. In my first life, I got what I wanted. I became Lorenzo's woman. People said he loved me as if I were the air in his lungs. When he learned that I loved to dance, he bought an entire ballet company to keep me onstage. Then he broke my legs. He confined me to a wheelchair and displayed me like an ornament. One day, he brushed his fingers across my face and finally told me the truth. "I've seen enough dancing," he said. "And the one I truly love was never you." I died in that room, swallowed by despair. In my second life, I stepped aside and gave the Donna's seat to Anna. "You go," I told her. "The one Lorenzo really loves is you." I believed that choice would save us. I believed Anna would have the happy ending I never did. Five years later, they sent her back. Her legs were intact this time, but she couldn’t move them either. Lorenzo no longer treated her as a person. He had turned her into a ballerina statue, encased in plaster and posed at what he called her most beautiful moment, frozen in place. His men delivered the message without a trace of feeling. "He got tired of watching the younger sister dance," they said. "So he preserved her at her most beautiful." When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in my third life. Once more, the Don's men delivered a ballet invitation. Anna and I stared at it. The same question burned in both of us. If neither of us was the one he loved, then who was Lorenzo really watching?

She ran from a killer. She fell for his enemy. Zara Okafor was Lagos's most celebrated ballroom dancer until she watched her fiancé, Senator Emeka Okonkwo, execute a man in cold blood and smile. She ran. Changed her name. Buried the girl who believed in fairy tales. Now she teaches waltz to wealthy widows in Abuja, invisible and safe. Until he walks in. Dante Nwosu doesn't enter rooms—he claims them. Ruthless heir to a blood-soaked empire, he needs a dance instructor for his sister's wedding. What he wants, he takes. And he wants her. Zara recognizes the danger in his eyes—the same cold calculation from the night her world ended. She refuses. He persists. One dance. One contract. One month. But Dante isn't just a powerful stranger. He's the son of the kingpin she escaped. Her old fiancé now a powerful senator knows she's alive. He wants her silenced. Dante should hand her over. He burns the world instead. In the space between a waltz and a war, the man everyone fears has a fracture in his armor and she's the only one who knows where to strike. The enemy of her enemy becomes obsession. The reason she stops running and starts fighting. But love in the dark doesn't come clean. Every truth is a chain. Every secret costs blood. And the final dance—where the music stops and the guns come out—demands a price neither can afford. Some dances you survive. Some you die for. This one might be both. The Last Dance… Dark Romance. Mature Content. For fans of enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity, and heroines who fight back.