Kitabı oku: «Match Pointe», sayfa 3

There was no doubting Caesar had certainly done his research thoroughly as he paused to watch all the colour drain from Eloise’s face, when just moments ago it had been flushed. He smiled as he continued, congratulating himself again on his choice. She was even more perfect for the role than she had appeared on paper, and so very easy to read – an open book in every sense.

‘It will be up to both of you to negotiate the parameters of your relationship. This will be an important discussion, as your respective lawyers would then draw up the terms of your agreement, which of course I would require you to uphold.’

‘And by parameters you mean what exactly?’

‘The rules that define and determine your relationship.’

‘So I would negotiate this with Ivan?’

‘You would negotiate this with whoever was Number One, as per the ATP’s – the Association of Tennis Professionals – rankings. Currently this is Ivan, and he is very keen for you to be his private ballerina.’

‘Oh, I see. So the contract would be with you for two years but my agreement would be negotiated separately with each Number One during that timeframe?’

‘Exactly.’ Caesar was pleased she seemed to be catching on.

‘And would my relationship with the Number One ever be more than dancing?’

She had to ask; it needed to be clarified.

‘That would be entirely up to you, but you should be prepared for the possibility. It is certainly not my aim to place you in a situation that isn’t consensual. That is why the agreement between you is such an important step in the process. Of course I can’t speak for each Number One; it would be for them to negotiate the boundaries with you. Only then would the specifics form part of the contract.’

‘And how do you know they would even agree to such a proposal?’

‘I manage the top six male players in the world. I know their lives inside out, more than their nearest and dearest ever will. If Ivan doesn’t maintain that position, one of the other five will be Number One. I have included a brief dossier on each of them for you to review before making your decision. I think you will be pleasantly surprised.’

He smiled, almost like the cat that had already swallowed the canary.

‘But how do you know that they would even want me in their lives?’

‘Believe me, Eloise, I know every one of these men would welcome you into their life in whatever shape the relationship takes. As you know better than anyone, being at the top is lonely and isolating. To have someone who doesn’t judge them and understands the pressure of their lives, the need to perform on cue over and over, would be invaluable. It became abundantly obvious to me after my discussion with Ivan. If these elite athletes don’t have a partner one hundred per cent dedicated to their career, it’s only a matter of time before the stress cracks show and their relationship fails, often affecting every part of their life. I see it time and again. Should you come into their lives, understanding what drives them to be Number One, as you know first-hand, supporting them to achieve, with no strings attached … do you think they’ll knock all that back? You’d be a dream come true!’

The entire situation was too much for Eloise to take in.

‘I know it’s a lot to absorb, and probably the last thing you were expecting from our meeting today. So I’d really appreciate it if you could read through the information when you go home, consider what I’ve offered and let me know within the next two days if you are remotely interested. I’d be more than comfortable if you feel you need to experience the lifestyle I’m proposing before committing to anything. If you decide to proceed, the contract between us will be legally binding for the next eight grand slams; there are four a year. You’d start with the French Open in May, then Wimbledon, followed by the US Open, and finally the Australian in January.

‘It’s a big decision, which I encourage you to consider seriously. And I need to be clear: should you proceed, your life for the next two years will not be your own.’ His eyes became lethal for a flicker of a second, right before his tone lightened. ‘If you have any more questions whatsoever, just call my direct line.’ He handed her his business card.

‘Unfortunately, my next meeting is across town and I need to get going. As I said earlier, Eloise, I hope you will consider my offer seriously over the next day or two. I’ve really enjoyed our time together today and hope we can continue getting to know each other in the near future.’

He stood up, so Eloise followed his lead, and he shook her hand again. Instead of having warm, sweaty palms, now all blood had drained from her fingers, leaving them stone-cold.

‘Please feel free to stay here longer if you wish to.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’

As he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to face her. ‘Don’t look so scared, Eloise; life is meant to be an adventure. I hope I’ve just added to yours.’

‘Thank you, Caesar. For lunch, for the chat, for everything.’ As she said the words she realised her life now had options she hadn’t even imagined a few hours ago. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘Good. I’m counting on it!’

On that note, Caesar exited the room, leaving a befuddled Eloise standing in his wake.

Pub

Eloise found a pub just around the corner from the Tate Modern and made the spontaneous decision to pop in: something entirely out of character for her. She needed to calm her nerves and reflect on the puzzling meeting she had just left, and she wasn’t ready to go back and sit in her tiny apartment by herself just yet. Though she tried to seem like she belonged in this environment, she looked quite out of place sitting at the bar, and the pint she was hiding behind could not conceal her incongruous elegance and grace.

She told herself that everything in her life was still as miserable as it had been an hour ago, but knew deep down this just wasn’t the case. In fact, her life had just become far more intriguing than it had ever been – not that she would openly admit that to herself.

She sat in a daze a million miles away, not quite believing what had just happened to her. She was trying to assimilate the bizarre proposition sitting inside the manila envelope he had given her, when her reverie was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice next to her.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’

She looked up into the eyes of a young guy with a mass of brown, shoulder-length, curly hair, a caramel tan and an adorable smile that exposed perfect white teeth and a dimple on each cheek.

‘I’m sure you’d rather not know,’ Eloise responded flatly, unaccustomed to being spoken to by strange men in public, and preferring not to be disturbed.

‘Try me, I’m a good listener. May I?’

Eloise couldn’t disguise her shock as he slid his seat closer to hers and ordered a pint from the bar.

‘What …? Well … I suppose … why not?’

‘Thanks! I’m Liam by the way.’

He extended his hand, and rather than averting her eyes and not responding as would be her usual practice, she couldn’t help but smile. His casual friendliness was somewhat contagious. She looked into his honey-coloured eyes and was surprised to see nothing but kindness.

‘I’m Eloise. Are you usually like this?’

‘I suppose it depends on what you think I’m usually like.’

‘I suppose it does!’ She laughed, a sound she hadn’t heard escape from her mouth for quite some time. It was an unusual sensation. ‘I mean, do you usually just sidle up to people you don’t know and sit down for a chat?’ Eloise knew she had never acquired the social confidence for such outgoing behaviour.

‘Why not? Life’s short,’ he answered simply, before looking at her a little more thoughtfully, noticing her bright aquamarine eyes and long auburn locks, pulled neatly away from her face and secured in a long plait that rested on her shoulder.

‘I was just about to leave when you caught my eye. You look a little lost and very alone – and stunning!’ She immediately blushed at his directness. ‘If we can’t reach out to each other as human beings, then what’s the point in being alive?’

She was taken aback, both by his outspoken words and by the kind-heartedness they portrayed.

‘How do I know you’re not Jack the Ripper?’

‘To the best of my knowledge Jack the Ripper lived about a hundred years ago, although …’ He paused, pretending to consider … ‘I suppose I could be a distant relative.’ He took a sip of his beer, taking time to lick the foam from his upper lip. ‘But I don’t think I have his genes, because I’m one hundred per cent against violence – it goes against my Zen nature – and besides, there are many other things I would prefer to do with a woman, I can assure you, particularly one as beautiful as you.’ His cheeky, light-hearted grin returned, along with his dimples.

Eloise caught herself returning the smile. Something about him drew her in, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin, and she shifted in her seat to deflect his searching gaze. In the past, it had only ever been dance that had stirred such arousal in her, but her immediate attraction to him was undeniable. He was gorgeous!

Even though his intentions could be taken as sexual, she felt surprisingly comfortable in his presence and found herself easing into conversation with this flirtatious stranger. The freedom of anonymity was taking her mind off the massive decision she had to make within the next two days.

‘So, as I said before: penny for your thoughts?’

‘Oh, it’s just too complicated and surreal for me to even begin to explain – and anyway, I should really get going. I have a lot I need to work out.’

She stood up from the bar, not really wanting to leave but feeling like she could now face going home to start thinking through Caesar’s offer. She could hardly have explained the details of his proposal to a complete stranger, nor even to someone she knew well. So she carefully placed the envelope back in her attaché case.

‘You’re not finishing your beer?’

‘I don’t really drink beer – and I don’t usually go to pubs either. I just ordered it to fit in.’ She smiled sheepishly.

‘Right.’ He placed some money on the bar and stood up with her. ‘Are you walking across the Millennium Bridge?’

She nodded.

‘Mind if I join you?’

‘You’re persistent, aren’t you?’

‘When I like something I see, absolutely.’

The more Eloise looked at Liam, the cuter he became – like a delicious milky chocolate bar, without the fat content. She gathered up her jacket and attaché case and pondered: What harm could it do? She hadn’t felt anything like this for a long time, if ever.

‘All right, then, why not?’

They both reached for the door handle at the same time, their fingers colliding. He stood firm, holding the door until she’d gone out before him. She noticed he was over six feet tall, and more athletic and muscled than she’d realised when they’d been seated.

‘You look like you’re dressed for a job interview.’ He slipped into an easy stride next to her, even though she was much smaller and wearing heals that slowed her pace.

‘I suppose, in hindsight, I could say yes to that.’ She shook her head at the thought, wondering if she should consider Caesar’s offer that way. She had never had a real job before.

‘But you’re having trouble deciding what to do? Can’t be that hard, can it? All of life is an opportunity. Have you talked it over with friends, family?’

‘No, not really …’

She reflected on this. Outside the ballet, she didn’t have anyone to confide in or to ask for advice, nor had she ever needed to – her only goal had been to become Principal Ballerina of the Royal Ballet, and everything she’d required to achieve that goal had fallen into place. All she’d ever needed was discipline, dedication, physical and mental stamina and to follow the instructions she was given. That was her entire world: to lose her mind to her body in dance. Her acknowledgment of this reality was disturbing, and suddenly she felt like a very young, inexperienced twenty-two year old who had been thrust into the harsh reality of an unknown world, in which dance played no part.

‘It’s just that I’m not sure if this is a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘Ah, I see. But does the job involve doing something you enjoy?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose it does. Just in a different way from what I’m used to.’

‘Then how much of a risk can it be? Everything in life is a risk waiting to be turned into an opportunity. Change can be great for us, it can challenge us in unexpected ways. Tell me, what are the upsides of this new role?’

They walked across the steel footbridge and over the Thames as they continued their conversation.

‘Dance, travel, lifestyle, security, diversity …’

‘Does it pay well?’

‘It would probably set me up for life.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘That’s the problem: I think it’s almost too much, that maybe I’m missing something … and it would mean giving up my ultimate dream of performing on stage for a while.’

‘There are many roads to achieving your dreams; I reckon the key is to choose the path that is flowing freely right now and be open to adapting as needed. All you can commit to is to be the best you can be, right now.’

‘Are you always so positive?’ His sunny attitude was infectious and she couldn’t help but let some of it rub off on her.

‘Trust me, it’s the easiest way to live life. It helps smooth out all the bumps so you can sit back and enjoy the ride.’

‘Sounds like you’ve had some experience at this.’

He nodded, still smiling at her.

‘And if it doesn’t smooth out the bumps?’ she asked, suddenly tentative.

He stopped as they came to a crossroads and turned to look into her eyes. ‘Then let me know. I’ll come and save you.’

His thumb gently caressed her chin, causing her lips to part ever so slightly. The intimacy of his touch astounded her, caught her breath. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it – his gorgeous face staring down at her momentarily clouding her mind.

‘I don’t even know you; all we’ve done is talk about me.’

‘And I’ve enjoyed that very much … but unfortunately I’m going to have to dash. I fly to the US tonight.’

‘Oh! OK, well have a safe flight.’ Disappointment washed over her as the special moment they’d shared evaporated. ‘Liam?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks for the chat to a confused stranger.’ As she smiled her face lit up, before the concern crept in once again.

‘The pleasure has been all mine.’ He smiled back. ‘Best of luck with your decision.’

‘Well, thanks.’ She was flummoxed by him. ‘And best of luck with the rest of your life.’

‘That’s the attitude, Elle!’ he said with a wink and a smile. No one had ever called her that before. ‘Until we meet again …’

He said it as if he were certain they would, deftly placing a European-style kiss on each of her flushed cheeks.

Their eyes met briefly before he winked, turned away and jogged off into the swell of London’s human tide, promptly disappearing from her life.

Decision

That night, Eloise couldn’t shift the unusual events of the day from her mind. Meeting with Caesar and his bizarre proposal. Her fortuitous albeit brief encounter with Liam. It was as though she had been cast out into the real world for the first time. Her tiny apartment didn’t feel quite so lonely and she was surprised that her appetite was back; even after the lunch at the Tate Modern, she was ravenous.

With that thought, she ordered some home delivery of tom yum soup and honey-steamed fish with Asian greens and completely tidied her messy apartment while awaiting the food’s arrival, something she hadn’t done for weeks while she’d been wallowing in misery.

With food in her stomach, and feeling more emotionally stable than she had for some time, she settled herself onto her bed to read the contents of the offer in detail.

Eight grand slams.

Two years. She could do that. If she was lucky the Russian dominance of ballet would have dissipated by then …

All accommodation and expenses included.

No problems with that, and she could save on London rent.

A three-bedroom apartment in Belgravia, fully transferred into your name at the completion of the contract.

That was really quite unbelievable. After her childhood in foster care, she had never imagined such luxury could be hers without the safety net of ballet. Actually, she hadn’t believed she would ever own her own place in London, so this was simply incredible. But as she’d said to Liam, what was the catch? She wondered …

An annual payment of £100,000, indexed to inflation for twenty years.

This sounded obscene! Only the best of the best dancers in the world could ever hope to aspire to such a salary, and that would be with endorsements. She wondered whether Caesar had more money than sense.

These two years would give her complete independence.

To realise her dream.

To follow her passion.

To dance!

On her terms …

For the rest of her life!

This was the reason she must seriously consider this outrageous offer – even if it was risky …

She suspected that Caesar had more information than he acknowledged about her career and life, and that she had played nicely into his hands. He seemed authentic enough on the surface, but she also sensed – as, she suspected, did many others – an underlying danger that meant the idea of signing a contract with Caesar should never be taken lightly. His influence in Great Britain, at least, was a sticky web entrenched both wide and deep in the business community and beyond. She had no doubt that he was adept at perfecting any number of masks during negotiations, to gain the outcome he desired.

But what did it matter when his offer was so generous? It would more than provide her with a cushioned transition from the secluded world of ballet into the upper echelons of society’s elite – so long as she remained locked in his genie bottle for two complete years, to be set free just after her twenty-fourth birthday.

She couldn’t deny the feeling that there was also something about his proposal that made her feel special, essentially ‘chosen’ above all others. Although she didn’t understand why Caesar wanted her and only her, there was something about being specifically sought after and needed that soothed her dented soul. More significantly, she would belong somewhere – however temporarily – and she needed that more than anything right now, while she felt like she was in freefall.

Eloise had a restless night tossing and turning, imagining the direction her life might take should she accept Caesar’s offer. Liam’s words continued to penetrate her dreams, intertwined with Caesar’s convincing monologue.

The most crystallising of these dreams occurred just before dawn.

The Répétiteur was casting his eagle eyes onstage as Eloise performed her first solo during the final dress rehearsal of Swan Lake. As she commenced her pirouettes, she felt like she could fly; the flow of the music had taken over her body and she was free from all anxiety as she continued en pointe. Around and around her body swirled, her eyes fixated on the small light she used to anchor her spins. Her execution was flawless.

This was why she danced; when she became the dance she was free from the world. Free from pain and hurt and abandonment, intrinsically connected to the music. Knowing that at last she belonged. Her body was awash with acceptance and love. She was, at long last, at peace with herself.

So absorbed was she in these feelings, feelings she had been searching for her entire life, that she hadn’t noticed that the ballet had spontaneously changed from Swan Lake to Manon and she was suddenly being torn between the wealthy Monsieur G.M. and her lover Des Grieux. She had forgotten the moves as her body was pulled and pushed by the two men fighting over her. She didn’t understand the dance, because this wasn’t the ballet she had rehearsed over and over for so many years. This dance was different and she had no way of predicting what would come next. She felt as if she were being torn in half by these characters, a pawn in their play. Her arms were stretched painfully in opposite directions as she oscillated between both men, the suddenly violent music tensing her movements as she was thrust into the air by the four strong hands controlling her body.

Time was momentarily frozen, allowing her to perfect her position mid-flight – her legs stretched into a grand jeté with her arms held beautifully in fifth position. Her training kept her mouth closed, as though no physical exertion were required to perform this move. Suddenly the music became ominous as she began her descent. Floating downwards in slow motion, which gave her time to glance towards the floor, she discovered to her horror that no one was there to catch her fall; she was once again alone onstage. She desperately flapped her swan-like wings, before crashing violently onto the floor, her body shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

The Répétiteur’s voice bellowed from the back of the auditorium. ‘Get someone from maintenance to clean up this mess and find me the understudy, now! Everyone prepare for the next act.’ And clapped his hands loudly.

Eloise watched from afar as the pieces of her broken body were efficiently swept up and discarded in the commercial waste bin in the back alley.

She woke in a panic, her sheets soaked in perspiration. The dream had been as foreboding as it had been nightmarish – and it had rocked her to the core.

She instantly knew she needed to distance herself from the ballet. Taking time for her decision to settle in her bones, she went for a brisk early morning walk before having a shower and eating a light breakfast. Content that her mind was made up, she collected herself and made two phone calls. One was to set up a meeting with a lawyer – Caesar had provided a comprehensive list – and the other was to Caesar himself. It went straight through to voicemail, so she left a message, verbally accepting his offer prior to written consent.

Her life would not be her own for the next two years – but she was forced to acknowledge that it never really had been.