The Devil of DiRisio by Leslie DuBois Page B

buried treasure in his nose. Good God, was he trying to scratch his brain or something?
    I cringed again.  There was no way I was going back in there today.  I turned and looked at Damian.  He looked harmless enough now.  His turquoise eyes gleamed with regret.  He looked almost passive in his creased black pants, striped button down shirt that was unbuttoned almost to his stomach, and his chic leather jacket.  Even his hair had been tamed into a ponytail, but a few rebellious strands had escaped giving him a look of subdued recklessness.  There wouldn’t be any harm in going to a public place with him. He wouldn’t be able to try anything with tons of people milling around.
    “Fine,” I huffed as I rolled my eyes.  “Let me change.”
    ***
    “I’ll have a plate of romaine lettuce with oil and vinegar on the side, a half a cup of shaved carrots, and a glass of soda water with lemon,” I said to the waiter of the café Damian had taken me to.  I wondered why we needed to drive twenty minutes to get to this particular place when there were plenty of café’s just like it and nicer right next to the Academy.  But I didn’t complain.  I was just glad to get out of class for once.  I had begun to forget what Italy looked like during the day.
    “You eat like my mother,” he said with a grin after he ordered a plate of some disgusting sounding pasta.  I gave a fake smile and continued to fiddle with my napkin.  I didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but I really didn’t care.  I wanted to know why he was so dead set on taking me out to lunch.  I should have known it was a trap.
    Damian spent the next thirty minutes talking about his career.  Despite myself, I found that I was interested in what he had to say.  He had such a fascinating life.  He found it unbelievable that I hadn’t seen a single one of the movies he’d choreographed.
    “These were major motion pictures.  You haven’t seen one of them?”
    “Sorry, I spend all my free time dancing.  I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been to a movie theater.  If I’ve seen a movie it’s because I checked it out from the library.  And if I did that, the movie must have been placed next to a recording of a Natalia Karleskaya performance.”
    “Incredible.”  Damian laughed then finished off his glass of wine.  “So, what are you looking for out of your dance career?  What is your ultimate goal?”
    “Well,” I said suddenly smiling from cheek to cheek.  “I want to dance for the Russian Ballet.”
    “Really?”   Damian seemed genuinely shocked. I couldn’t help but feel a little offended by his reaction.  Did he think I wasn’t good enough?
    “I know I’m not at that level right now, but one day I’ll be good enough.  I’m willing to put in the work if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    “No, that is not what I was thinking at all.  I think you are capable of dancing anywhere in the world you want. I bet you just want to dance with your precious Natalia Karleskaya . But I don’t think you should limit yourself.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You are a magnificent ballerina, but you are also very good in other areas.  I think you should go where you can do all types of dance.”
    “Like where?”
    “Like my company.”
    “You don’t have a company.”
    “Not yet,” Damian smiled wickedly.  Was he making this up?  It wasn’t beyond him to make up a phony company and promise me principal just so he could sleep with me.  I rolled my eyes and gulped down the rest of my water hoping it would cool the rush of heat that had overwhelmed my body over the prospect of being a principal dancer.  “Fine, don’t believe me.  But how does your boyfriend feel about moving to Russia for your career?  What about his career?”
    “We’ll figure that out when we come to it,” a voice said from behind me.  I turned around to see Will glaring down at