Prima Donna by Karen Swan Page B

wasn’t leaving just to escape Silk again. Even after this morning’s workout, she was missing her time in the
studio and on the stage. Every day’s absence made a difference and she could feel her form slacking off. She needed to get back to Chicago and back to class.
    Her break-up with Andy and the suspension had confused her momentarily, thrown her into a vortex away from all her anchors. But she should have known to keep focused on her dancing. It was the
only thing that had ever mattered to her, the only thing that had ever loved her back.
    In the distance, she heard the familiar jingle of bells again. Such a pretty sound. So much nicer than the Chicago cabs that gurgled outside her apartment day and night.
    She stepped into the road. Ahead of her, a door in one of the horseboxes opened and a laughing couple tumbled out. She stopped dead at the sight of them. It couldn’t be!
    But it was. She watched, frozen, as the man leant down and kissed the woman so lustily that she fell back against the stairs, pulling him down with her – on her.
    ‘
Hai!
’ a voice called.
    Was that . . . ? It couldn’t be! She squinted trying to make out the woman . . .
    The jingles were closer. So close.
    Too close!
    Something, an instinct, broke the reverie and she whirled around. The dappled grey mare instantly tried to step back, pulling into a frightened rear as the blue wooden sleigh continued its slide
forward.
    Pia gasped with terror – there was no time to scream – as the horse’s front legs bucked in front of her. She threw her arms up, but too late – the horse delivered a
glancing blow to her cheek that knocked her off her feet and sent her flying against the cars parked by the kerb.
    Dazed, she tried to get up, to get away, but her foot slipped on some black ice, kicking the horse’s leg sharply with her stiletto, and it reared up again. Pia heard the driver shout,
trying to calm the horse, but it was too late – it had had enough. With a defiant dip of its head, the horse cantered up the hill and the crystal calm of the Engadine night was shattered by a
scream as the rails of the heavy antique sleigh were drawn over Pia’s precious, precocious right foot.

Chapter Eight
    Had the morphine not knocked her into delirium, Pia would have been delighted to learn that Will Silk was indeed now chasing her – by helicopter.
    The rumours inside the hotel had started quickly – before he’d even finished his drink – and by the time news of her accident reached him, most of the partygoers had emptied
onto the street.
    It had taken him – the person with the greatest interest in seeing that she was okay– several minutes just to push past all the other people present, and the sight of Pia, so pale
and her foot twisted at an obscene angle, had almost poleaxed him.
    ‘Oh my God, oh my God, this can’t be happening,’ Sophie had been repeating, her hands tearing her hair as Pia was lifted into the air ambulance. ‘Wait, please.
Don’t go yet,’ she implored the medics. ‘I just need to talk to—’ She pressed the speed dial on her mobile again; but, as much as the shock had sobered up her brain,
she couldn’t get her fingers to work properly and they kept misdialling.
    The medics ignored her, slamming shut the door.
    ‘No, please. I’ll only be a moment.’
    Will pushed forward, his jaw clenched. ‘You heard the girl. Just wait!’ The medics stared at him. It was clear he wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy. ‘That woman is a
world-class ballerina.
No one
touches her foot,’ he ordered.
    A stunned silence fell around them.
    ‘Monsieur Baudrand?’ Sophie yelled into her phone.
    ‘
Oui?
’ whipped a thin voice.
    ‘Oh thank God I’ve got hold of you. It’s Sophie,
monsieur
. . . It’s about Pia.’ She paused as she suddenly tried to find the words to tell him.
    ‘What now?’ Baudrand exhaled, exasperated at the thought of his – suspended – star still causing trouble.
    ‘She’s been in