・chapter 34・

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Mere moments after the door shut behind him, Asya started pacing around her room like a caged lion. Her brain felt like it was vibrating inside her skull, straining to try and process the past twenty minutes without collapsing in on itself.

It's too much, she told herself. Way too much. He had a sister, he had a family, he'd let her meet that family, trusted her with this well-kept secret of his, and let her into that part of his life.

Family, he had a family.

She didn't do family. She hadn't grown up with one, and had virtually no experience in dealing with them prior to moving in with Julian's parents when she was eleven. And the first few days of that, as Julian loved pointing out, had been odd to say the least. She barely spoke around the house, because that was what she was used to, kept an immaculate appearance, because those were the standards she'd been raised with, and tried staying out of the way, because anything more seemed like an inconvenience to those around her.

Looking back, that was eleven-year-old Asya desperately clinging to some semblance of familiarity while her world got turned upside down. Julian's parents had gradually talked her out of those formalities, but she'd still end up spending the bulk of her childhood at an elite boarding school getting a world class ballet education under strict rules and routines. In all that time, no one had ever taught her how to do family.

Her stomach lurched. She smacked the side of her head a few times, trying to quiet the buzzing in her skull.

It would have been helpful if she knew what she was meant to be doing. She had no idea who she was to these people, and yet her name clearly meant something to both Tanya and Miranda. So what had he told them, if anything?

They weren't exactly friends, they were barely even acquaintances. It didn't seem like he was leading them to believe they were together romantically, given that they were in separate rooms. So what the hell did he want from her?

Men only ever wanted one of two things from her. Either they wanted Asya the talented soloist, or they wanted sex. The former wasn't applicable since she was injured, but it didn't look like he was after the latter either. He'd been alone with her several times over the past two days and hadn't made a single pass at her, never even hinted at anything. Given how direct he usually was, she was almost certain that if he wanted something sexual he'd just ask.

With her only two options ruled out, she was left thinking that he probably just felt sorry for her. She was a basket case that turned up at his door in the middle of the night, and now he felt responsible for making sure she was being fed.

Fed. Food. Eating.

Dinner.

Oh god, dinner, Miranda had said they were having dinner. She was going to have to eat, and this time there was no chance of cutting her portion down to a starvation size or throwing it up immediately after. She'd have to eat like a normal person.

She spun around and switched directions with her pacing, letting out a small noise of frustration. She was going to put on a performance, she told herself. There was a part of her that was hard-wired to stay calm when anyone else would start panicking, and right now she needed that part to do its fucking job.

Focus, Asya, focus. You did family once before, you can do it again.

Her pacing halted. They needed to like her, Tanya and Miranda, she wanted them to like her. Really, really wanted them to like her. And if there was one thing she knew people liked, it was stage Asya. Witty, charming, well-spoken, polite Asya.

She practically flung herself at her duffel bag, dropping it on the ivory Chesterfield couch at the foot of her bed before she yanked off her beanie and scarf. She peeled back all the layers she'd piled on that morning to stay warm, first the puffer jacket, then the hoodie, and then the fleece zip-up, finally revealing the white cashmere turtleneck underneath it all. It was nice, had a designer label, and showed off the elegant set that had been trained into her shoulders.

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