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MARIA

The performance had come to an end, and my eyes widened as they took in the audience's response. It was impeccable; a roar of applause radiated through the auditorium, and people rose to their feet with expressions utterly stunned. It was beautiful: their appreciation for us, their cheers, their whistles, the flowers they gave us, the joy across their faces. I was delighted; our hard work had truly paid off. I stood in awe, taking in the immense excitement and happiness in the room. It had to be one of the best performances I had ever done.

My heart was racing in my chest, my breaths were quick, but I was filled with triumph and pride at how amazing we had been. It had all come to this, all those days going home with pains in my legs and back, barely being able to walk, all those hot baths and massages. All of it was worth the pain and effort to create that masterpiece on stage. It would be a performance no one would ever forget.

We were all shocked as we stood in position. All dancers looked at each other in exultation and astonishment at the great satisfaction the elated crowd was showing us; it was the biggest jubilation I had seen in a long time. We smiled at each other, and there was laughter, hugs, tears, and cheers of joy for each other. Our proudness, our ebullience at how great and magnificent we had been that night. I had never been so satisfied with my performances as that night. The first one where my mother hadn't come back to haunt me. I was proud of myself and couldn't stop the tears building in my eyes as I bowed in complete and utter thankfulness to the audience who had made the night.

Their cheers and gratitude were too much; it comforted me, healed me, and made me feel at home. That was it. The day I realised that I never wanted to stop dancing. The stage was my home; ballet was my life. I could never, ever stop being a ballerina. I loved it with all my heart. There was nothing that could stop me from dancing. I could no longer feel the pains and aches in my body but the glee running through me.

There was one person I hadn't paid attention to on the stage.

Only one person that could make a joyous event awful. Jorge's hand held mine as we bowed and didn't let go despite the performance ending. We were no longer our characters; my hand tugged on his strong grip as a sign to release me, but he wouldn't. My eyes dropped down to our warm hands, my smile slowly lowering. He was smiling wide at the crowd as if he wasn't cutting off my circulation, the sweat running down his temples.

I chose to ignore him and continue appreciating the people who had come to see us all. I smiled happily, trying to maintain the peace. The last thing I needed was Jorge ruining my ecstatic mood.

"How was that, cupcake?" Jorge suddenly whispered into my ear despite the loud sounds around us. I chose not to look at him, moving my head away slightly at his sudden closeness.

"Stop," was all I uttered with a grateful smile to the audience. We were still on stage, and his shenanigans were not needed. I discreetly tugged my hand again, but he didn't free me; instead, Jorge pulled me to him. I was caught off guard; my body hit his, and I couldn't hide the terror on my face as my wide eyes looked into his.

I didn't even get a chance to think before his face leaned into mine and he kissed me. Jorge kissed me in front of everyone—the entire audience, the dancers, the workers; everyone was watching the man kiss me just as the curtains were beginning to draw closed.

I couldn't pull away, not only because I couldn't free myself from his strong hold but also because of the crowd. I couldn't show my disgust in front of everyone. A tsunami of articles would be ready to attack me on my attitude if I pushed him off me. I was already dealing with enough on my plate.

When the curtains closed, Jorge finally freed me. Although there was noise, there was an uncomfortable silence around us. "You didn't answer my question." He smirked, his finger lifting my chin up so I was looking at him again. My eyes could never hide their true emotions; I was burning inside, my heart was hammering in my chest. I felt like washing my lips a thousand times and over.

I couldn't. I couldn't let my fury show in front of everyone backstage; I couldn't scream and throw my anger at him right then and there. I had to suppress my raging emotions. I simply smiled, moving around him and quickly walking to my safe space, ignoring everyone around me to my dressing room. I slammed the door shut behind me and sank into my chair in front of the mirror, alone and furious.

I placed my hand against my head and loudly groaned. I could never escape him. Too many thoughts ran through my mind. They had all seen it; it was all filmed, and now the rumours would explode by the morning. I would be dragged in the articles, accused of cheating and lying; it would all go down so horribly wrong. It only ever got worse for me whenever I thought things were going well. Jorge had completely ruined my night. He had to go, and it had to be by my hands.

I needed to ignore that issue for now. There was still so much that had to be done, and I needed to see Iris. The joy of that performance was returning to my heart. I sat up and placed my hand down, thinking about it.

Iris was always backstage waiting for me. Always. She wasn't there when I left. It was a first and surprised me for a second. My dressing room suddenly felt eerily quiet. I brushed off those thoughts and decided to head back to the dancers. Maybe Iris would be back then.

My shoes touched the ground, and the moment I placed myself up to stand, a wave of dizziness hit me. My hand reached out to the table and gripped onto it; the room suddenly felt smaller and less familiar. It was all getting a little blurry all of a sudden. I exhaled and closed my eyes momentarily to calm myself. I must've danced my ass off on the stage. Once I opened them again, I felt a lot better; the room had returned to its natural state.

But the door unexpectedly opened, and my eyes shot up to see who had entered. Jorge had the audacity to come back into my dressing room.

I stared at him in disbelief. "What the hell are you—" I paused in my own words, my eyes narrowing as he locked the door behind him, a slow turn to face me again. I couldn't hide my puzzlement. How did Jorge get in? Aife had placed guards everywhere in the building and even outside, and in fact, there was one to stand outside my dressing room—I froze. I realised that I didn't see a single guard anywhere after the performance, especially not outside my dressing room.

He took advantage of my quietness. "You still haven't done as you were told, little kitten." My confused eyes squinted slightly at his words, the hairs on the back of my neck rising as I could feel the tenseness in the air. Something didn't sit right with me as he slowly started coming closer. I let go of the table and stood strong, not allowing him to even get a glimpse of the slight alarm in my mind.

"I don't do as I'm told, Jorge. You should know that," I shot back with a small smirk. "You just can't seem to understand that I want nothing to do with you." A hard glare was on my face. "That stunt before?" My hand reached out and slapped him. I slapped him so hard that his head snapped to the other side, a deep red handprint across his cheek. I smirked, a sense of relief off my chest. That was all I wanted to do all night. "Are you that desperate for me? You're pathetic."

I stared back hard into his rage-filled eyes. "Let me get this across to you straight, Jorge. I don't want you, and I never will. I don't need you, and I certainly never will. And that useless blackmailing you're trying with me is deplorable. You're not getting anything from me. I told you. I took a step closer, the distance between our faces decreasing as my voice lowered, "This is your last fucking performance. You must think I'm joking when I said this is your end. I'm done with your games, Jorge. Fuck. You."

He scoffed, a dark and dangerous look in his eyes that suddenly made me feel uneasy. It was the feeling I used to get when he was seething in the past. I hadn't felt that uncomfortable, troubled feeling in a long time, though I hid my emotions well.

"You're right. You don't do as you're told," Jorge menacingly said, a chilling tone to his wrathful words. My eyebrows narrowed as he came closer and chuckled slowly, his dark eyes running across my face. I didn't like the intent look he was giving me as if I was his prey. "So you need to be taught a lesson, Maria. You don't seem to remember your fucking place."

It was quick when it all started. He grabbed me. Jorge's strong hands threw me against the wall, and I yelped in shock, my arm hitting first, a searing pain running through me. "Don't you dare touch—" He slapped me hard, his hand wrapped around my throat, and dragged me to the sofa, my back slammed against the mattress. My eyes expanded as his fist drew close and he punched me. The man punched me twice across the face, the air being knocked out of me. I couldn't breathe as he hit me repeatedly, insulting me with all sorts as he did so.

I was beginning to lose the sensation in me, the blood splattering across my skin as he attacked me, each hit against my body. I had lost all sense of control as my hands stopped fighting him and defending myself as strongly. They felt heavy; my arms were weak and shaky. The dizziness from before had come back to distract me. I had never had a headache as painful as that; it loomed across my entire head, as if a heavy brick had been placed on top.

I was withering in pain, breathless and exhausted all of a sudden, unable to clearly see him on top of me. "How's that water doing for you, kitten?" Jorge chuckled into my ear as I blinked over and over, my mouth open as I fought to breathe easily. My eyebrows furrowed as I realised what was happening to me. I had been drugged.

"You know, you fight so much, Maria," Jorge began in an eerie and hushed tone; I felt his hands run down my body. "Can't you ever just submit?" My head sunk into the sofa, my body was too heavy for me to move, and I could feel the fatigue hit me. I was out of it, losing all control. "I had to do it for you. You aren't such a willing person." He chuckled darkly again, his hands beginning to unbutton my dress.

"Get...off me...Don't touch me..." I managed to let out weakly, my eyes opening and closing repeatedly as I fought away the tiredness. He laughed again, amused by my vulnerability. There was no way I was going to let his intentions happen while passed out. Not a single movement freed me. I was completely helpless, unable to control my own body. He had taken over me, and he was going to undertake whatever he wanted from me that night. I was at the mercy of Jorge, my honour disappearing slowly as he used my body how he wanted.

His dirty mouth was on my neck, his hands rubbing me. He was going to make it quick; he knew where we were and that he couldn't fully satisfy himself in the dressing room. I could clearly see the intention was to break me. Take over me that night as a punishment, as a reminder of the intimidating and cruel man he was. That he could do whatever he wanted with me, that he was stronger and dangerous. That he dominated me. His intention wasn't to fully satisfy himself but to feed his ego. I had done enough to test his patience and damage his pride.

I would not let myself crumble beneath him and cry. I was not weak. Jorge, out of all people, was on top of me. I didn't expect things to turn that way. The water. I had drunk so much water prior to the performance. I had done everything to be extra cautious that night, and yet the most basic human right was turned against me.

I couldn't shout; I couldn't scream. All I could do was stare at him with a deep and unwavering fury that would haunt him. I was fighting my pain inside as I knew what was going to happen. "Will this satisfy you?" I questioned in a hoarse voice, my blurry eyes shaking. "Are you that stupid that you need...an ego boost by taking advantage of a drugged woman?"

I felt it when he hit me again, another two slaps that made me cry out, and he tightened his hands around my neck. I gasped for air, my hands clutching onto his strong ones, scratching as I struggled to breathe. The blood was dripping out of my nose; I was shaking involuntarily. I was choking, his gleeful eyes burning down into mine as he chuckled, caressing my cheek with his other hand. "Oh, baby," Jorge teased, his eyes filled with disgusting lust. He leaned in, licking his lips. "I'll fuck that hostile look out of your eyes until they're only filled with emptiness." I shivered as the horror filled me. His voice was so low but deep and frightening.

Tears streamed out as he laughed, his strong hand tight around my throat. I was struggling for my breath, my eyes filled with anger. "Did you stalk me?" I shakily questioned.

Jorge lifted his head from my chest with a laugh. At that point, I didn't know what to believe. I was questioning everyone. Jorge was an idiot, but it was clear that I had underestimated him. Anything was clearly possible. "You really do have a lot of eyes on you." He leaned down and crashed his lips onto mine roughly. My muffled sounds were useless. My body trembled as I could sense the imminent horror was coming. His hands were on my shaking legs, and he was moving closer against me. "No," I could only croak out against his desperate lips, my hands weakly pushing against his chest. I had lost all hope at that point. I was heaving, pushing, uselessly trying to help myself until I gave up trying to wake my heavy body. I closed my eyes and anticipated it, the loss of my dignity.

He was close; he was close to undertaking his desire; my body was there for him until a sudden gunshot pierced through the air. I let out a small scream as Jorge's body slumped on top of me without a single movement. My eyes widened as I froze, unable to understand what had just happened.

I gasped as my eyes shakily looked down. He was dead. His eyes wide open as he lay on top of me. I let out a shaky breath, the tears running down my cheeks as I was filled with a sense of relief and shock. He didn't get to have me. Jorge was dead, and it wasn't me who killed him.

A pair of hands grabbed him and threw the body off me. I yelped, fearful of who was in the room. My head was pounding, and I could barely see anything in front of me anymore. My bloodstained hand was pressed against my temple as I groaned at the aching and banging sensation in my head.

"Maria." A masculine voice gently called out. It was repeating over and over in my head. My eyes were hardly open as my arms were held, and I was being carried by someone. I was too out of it to focus. I recognised the voice after a moment and was immediately filled with relief.

"Giovanni?" I managed to breathe out, my heavy eyes giving up and closing as my body loosened itself, allowing myself to be carried by him. "You saved me..." I was losing consciousness, breathing heavier and heavier by each second. "My head..."

"It's okay, little red. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you."

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~ Author's Note ~

Maria has been saved by Giovanni! Jorge may be out of the picture but is she really safe with Giovanni?

Keep reading to see Leonardo's reaction to this.

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