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  Yep, he definitely had the spicy curry chicken, and yes…this is the worst day of my entire life.

  CHAPTER 14

  Barbara

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” I repeat to myself again and again as I apply my makeup in the mirror.

  A lot of girls dream of performing with the Russian ballet. I probably even imagined it a time or two when I was younger…or maybe not.

  Who am I fooling? My heart was always in New York City.

  But I have to stay positive. I’m going to be here for the rest of my three months, and I get to dance with some of the best dancers in the world.

  And I won’t have to worry about gaining any weight. The food here is so bland, I probably won’t each much. And I don’t speak the language and the English penetration is terrible, at best, so I won’t have to worry about making many friends because I won’t have any.

  Wasn’t Russia famous for sending people to the frozen tundra of Siberia when they wanted to get rid of you? I may have been in one of the biggest cities in the world, and it was technically summer, if that’s what you can call it here, but I certainly felt like I was in Siberia in my own little prison cell.

  There’s a loud knock on my door and a man opens it. So much for waiting on me to reply.

  He holds out five fingers and then points to his watch, before shutting the door.

  I guess holding up five fingers is his way of telling me I’ve got five minutes until I go on stage. He had five fingers for me, but I’ve got one in particular I want to give this whole situation I’ve found myself in. My middle finger pointed sky high.

  I stare at myself in the mirror and open the drawer. Then it hits me. The picture of me with my parents is back in New York. Someone’s got it, if they haven’t thrown it out already.

  Now I really feel terrible. I always looked at that picture before I went on, but not this time, and never again.

  I really loved that picture. It’s the best one of the three of us I have, or should I say had.

  I pretend to be happy. A sad performance is not what the crowd needs right now, nor do I. I’m starting off in a new country and I need to make a good impression. These people are known to be cold at first, until they open up to you…if they open up to you. They’re used to excellent performing arts, and if I don’t deliver the reviews will be quick to destroy me.

  I’ve got to pull myself together.

  There’s a knock on the door again, and that same man opens it. He motions for me to come.

  I stand, and take a deep breath.

  “Here goes nothing,” I say, looking into the mirror one last time.

  He walks me through some tunnel towards the stage. He’s behind me like he’s taking me to my death, and in a lot of ways that’s exactly how I feel.

  I know the number I have to perform. It’s different than the one from New York, and it starts out with a solo. Still I wonder where the other dancers are when I line up behind the curtain.

  It’s dark and cold, and when I turn around he’s gone signaling that now I’m also alone. The story of my life.

  I take the starting position and wait for the curtain to rise.

  It’s a hard position to hold and the cramping is already setting in. Not sleeping or eating on the flight combined with the long travel…dehydration is already evident.

  This is going to be a complete disaster.

  I hear the announcer speaking in Russian. I don’t recognize the words, but I recognize the cadence. He’s counting down from ten.

  Nine…

  Eight…

  Seven…

  Six…

  Five…

  Four…

  Three…

  Two…

  One…

  Show time.

  CHAPTER 15

  Barbara

  The curtain rises and I feel the spotlight on me.

  I’m facing the crowd, and I immediately notice the theater is completely empty.

  What in the world?

  Is this some sort of trick? I feel like I’m in one of those movies where I’ve been trafficked into sex slavery and now I’m about to meet my fate.

  Could this situation get any worse?

  And then I hear it.

  To my left I hear clapping, followed by footsteps.

  I rise out of my position and see a man walking towards me. The lights are coming from every direction and I can’t make him out at first, until…

  “Brian!”

  I run to him. I don’t feel anything as I move across the stage in record time before jumping into his arms.

  “Glad to see me?”

  “You have no idea,” I say, hugging him as he cradles me in his big, safe arms.

  “And I’m relieved, and excited to see you.”

  “How did you find me? How did you get here so fast?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “Later,” he repeats, placing my feet on the ground. “Because first there’s something else I have to tell you.”

  He reaches for his slacks just above the knee, lifting them which allows his knee enough room to bend as he places it on the floor.

  He reaches into his coat pocket and removes a Tiffany blue box.

  “Oh my god!”

  “Beautiful. I’ve been in love with you for a decade. An entire ten years. Ten years that I thought about you every day and night, but I didn’t have you there in my arms. That will never happen again. We’re never going to miss another moment of this journey called life together, if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife. Will you marry me?”

  My hands find my face, and the tears are pouring from my eyes. My day has changed from the absolute worst, to the absolute best, and it’s all because of him…the man who never forgot about me. The man who met a girl long ago and inspired her, captivated her, and made her fall in love with him.

  And like a real man, he waited for her. He searched and he found her, and in doing so I found him…the only man I ever loved and ever will love.

  “Yes,” comes from my lips in hushed tones. I can barely speak I’m so excited.

  He reaches for my hand and I watch him slide the ring on my finger. It’s a perfect fit, and does it ever sparkle under the theater lights.

  He lifts himself off the floor and scoops me in his arms once again. It’s right where I belong, and his lips meet mine. It’s where our two lips belong, attached to the other’s forever.

  “Now let’s get out of here,” he says.

  “Yes!”

  EPILOGUE

  Barbara

  I’m asleep most of the plane ride back.

  My life has been completely exhausting since I started the show in New York. At first it was great, and then it became a tragedy, and now I’ve found my peace.

  I’m a bit out of it when the plane lands. We take a car, and next thing I know we’re pulling up to the St. Regis.

  The fuzziness is starting to wear off and I’m feeling better already.

  “Back to the Dior room…where it all started?”

  “I have a surprise in store for you this time.”

  “This time? You always do.”

  We enter the hotel and follow the same routine, but this time we arrive at a different floor. I shake my head in disbelief when we arrive at the door.

  “Tiffany Suite?” I say, reading the beautiful sign on the entrance.

  “I didn’t want your ring to get lonely.”

  “My ring will never get lonely, as long as my hands are interlocked in yours.”

  He smiles, taking my hand and leading me into the room.

  “Drink?”

  “Well, I’m not performing anymore so how about a champagne?”

  “My thoughts exactly, but there are some other thoughts I need to share with you.”

  “Ut oh. Is everything okay?”

  “More than okay,” he says. “Just one second.” He phones in our champagne request and returns his attention to me, guiding me over to t
he couch.

  “While you were in Moscow I had my team get busy on figuring out just exactly what happened.”

  “I wanted to ask you about that.”

  “I was curious too. This whole thing didn’t add up, at all. So it turns out that Hendrix put someone on our tail.”

  “Someone was following us?”

  “Yes, and apparently he blackmailed you when he transferred you out of New York.”

  “How did you know?”

  “One of the ballerinas had her microphone turned on, but had set it down on a table. It recorded the whole conversation. It’s been turned in as evidence now.”

  “Those little microphones we wear in our hair?”

  “That’s the one. They’re more powerful than they look. I guess technically it didn’t record the sound, but they’re hooked up to recording devices before you go onstage, but that’s neither here nor there. The good thing is we’ve got him on tape.”

  “Wait, did you say turned in as evidence?”

  “Yes, he’s through. Blackmail, which is technically extortion here in New York State. He was forced to resign immediately, and he’ll be going to prison.”

  “Prison?”

  “Where do we start? Improper use of contribution funds. Kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping?”

  “International kidnapping actually. He didn’t complete all the paperwork properly so technically he kidnapped you. We’re throwing everything we can at him.”

  “We’re?”

  “My legal team.”

  “You’ve got a team on it already?”

  “Of course. No one messes with my fiancée. No one.”

  “Awww. Thank you,” I say, giving him a big ‘ol hug. “Wait a second,” I say, pulling back. “How did you find me?”

  “That’s the best part.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “So remember how I told you I had a client meeting with a man who showed me your picture in that inflight magazine?”

  “I remember.”

  “He wanted to see you perform so badly, and was terribly upset when he didn’t get the chance. Well his name is Alex…at least that’s the name he goes by internationally. His real name is Aleksandr Sokolov.”

  “The Russian oligarch?”

  “And also owner of…”

  “The…Russian…Ballet.”

  “Bingo! I made a few calls, got in touch with him, and explained everything. He said, in a thick Russian accent this time, “I read Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. This is enough tragedy for one lifetime. You must come and get your woman.”

  “He said that?”

  “Like he was a warrior summoning me to battle, not that I needed any encouragement.”

  “But you’re not a warrior.”

  “You’re saying you don’t think—“

  “Shhh,” I say, placing my finger to his lips. “You’re my knight in shining armor, arriving just in time on your white horse.”

  “And now that I’ve taken you back to my castle, what in the world shall we do?”

  “Well, first of all I love the way you’ve decorated your Tiffany blue castle,” I say.

  He tickles me playfully, which I return with a good tickle right to the ribs.

  “I can think of a few things,” I say.

  “Only a few? There are a lot of rooms in this place.”

  “How many rooms are there here?”

  “One hundred and seventy one.”

  “Perfect, so if we switch every second day we’ll finish in just under a year.”

  “That’s another thing.”

  “What’s another thing?”

  “I’ve made the switch to New York. I’m going to represent my new favorite artist and live here now.”

  “That’s great! But wait, what artist?”

  “My favorite performing artist…you, silly!”

  “Me? I’m unemployed.”

  “Not anymore. The ballet would love to have you back as soon as you’re ready.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “After I helped uncover the fraud, and the millions they were losing, their natural response was if I knew anyone who would be a good fit now that the spot was open.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And who did your choose?”

  “Your ballet buddy from ten years ago.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “She’s starts tomorrow!”

  “Lindsey! Oh my god! I’m working for your daughter now.”

  “With my daughter. It’s truly becoming a family business.”

  “But how…?”

  “She worked extensively with the Sydney Opera House the last few years. It was a natural fit.”

  “But isn’t she too—”

  “Young? They wanted someone who could not only improve their bottom line, but they wanted to start over fresh. A young woman was the perfect way to do that.”

  “At your suggestion.”

  “Of course. When you’re part of my team, I’m known to make a lot of…suggestions…that turn out coming to life.”

  “And I’m honored to be part of your team, Mr. Brian Bowen.”

  “And I’m honored to have you, soon to be Mrs. Barbara Bowen.”

  “And I have a a suggestion of my own,” I say, motioning with my head towards the bedroom.

  “I see you’ve also mastered the art of the subtle suggestion,” he jokes.

  “Believe me, there’s nothing subtle about the way I feel for you.”

  I pause looking even more deeply into his eyes, as he does me.

  “I love you,” I say.

  “And I love you.”

  The End, but the story doesn’t have to end here. Click here to get your free, exclusive extended epilogue!

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  Don’t Baby Me

  Summertime and the living is easy...until Hottie McBabydaddy shows up.

  Free, fun and twenty-one, Samantha’s taking the summer off to party like a young girl should.

  Then a mysterious client of her Dad’s walks into her life.

  Mason’s a brand-new father, alone with a surprise newborn until he can arrange for full-time help.

  Samantha’s not a nanny, but she is an experienced babysitter. What’s a few days out of her vacation to help out a struggling single dad?

  Don’t Baby Me

  Kate Gilead

  Copyright © 2017 by Kate Gilead

  All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  I’m lying flat on my back on a full-length deck chair, catching some rays by the pool.