Prima Donna Read Online Free

groin. She looked down. He was pouring his beer . . .
    She closed her eyes in ecstasy as he began to drink. The man was wild! She bit her lip and held her breath.
    The papers called her his Snow Angel. They both knew she was anything but.
    It was 9.47 a.m. Aspen time (an hour later in New York) when Pia’s mobile rang. Usually she would still be asleep. She didn’t like rising before ten, not after a
performance (and last night definitely counted as a performance – with three encores), but Andy’s event started at ten and he had got up early to work on his bike, doing some
last-minute tweaks.
    ‘Hi,’ she said in her best sing-song voice, as though she was picking up to a lover, although she already knew who it would be. The only people who ever rang her were Sophie, Andy
(for the moment) and Badlands. ‘Oh hi, Monsieur Baudrand.’
    ‘What do you have to say for yourself, Pia?’ the Frenchman growled down the line.
    ‘About last night? I know. I am
so
furious. I mean, was I the
only
person doing my job?’ she sighed wearily. ‘Let’s face it, everybody knows I’m
immersed in the role; leg warmers are the last thing on my mind. I can’t even
feel
my legs. I’m just
spirit
by then. But I can’t believe no one mentioned
anything. Or Raymond! What’s he there for – just to raise the curtain up and down?
Must
I do everything myself?’ She dropped her voice confidingly. ‘You know
it’s just like the company,
monsieur
. They’re always so jealous of me. It’s just the kind of petty pleasure they take in trying to humiliate me,’ she purred.
    ‘
Non!
’ growled Baudrand, exasperated by his protégée’s silky attempts to wriggle out of the firing line. ‘
That
is not why I am
calling.’
    She heard the flutter of newspapers being swept off the desk and onto the floor.
    ‘Why do you do this?’ he said darkly down the line. ‘I said to you:
Non
.
Non
. Not this, Pia. It brings the ballet into disrepute.’
    ‘Oh
that
.’ Pia chuckled. ‘You don’t need to worry, Monsieur Baudrand, they’re a lingerie company, not sex traffickers. Headlining the Victoria’s
Secret show is considered a great accolade.’
    ‘Not in ballet, it’s not!’ he stabbed. ‘I said,
Non
! Why do you never listen? Why must you always push me so? Is not like you need the money.’
    ‘Well, I didn’t do it for the money,’ she snapped, irritated that he thought that was what motivated her. She’d rather strip for the hell of it than for money.
    ‘Then why? It’s bad enough we have headlines all the time of you with that druggie skier.’ She heard him exhale impatiently.
    ‘He’s not a skier and he doesn’t do drugs,’ she sighed, checking her nails. ‘If you must know,
monsieur
, I did it for the charity they were
supporting,’ she retorted. ‘They’re helping homeless kids in Manhat—’
    ‘You? Did it for charity?’ he interrupted. Now it was his turn to laugh. ‘Tell me, did you waive your fee, then? Or did your rush of generosity only come after a little
sweetener?’
    Pia’s nose flared indignantly. ‘I gave it to the charity actually,’ she huffed. Only to get rid of the arrogant financier of course, but giving was giving, right?
    ‘You leave me with no choice, Pia,’ he said quietly. ‘You are in breach of your contract and you knew it when you chose to walk down that catwalk wearing little more than a
porn-star tutu and some diamonds. I have already had the Board complain to me, and I have their full support in this. You are suspended for all remaining performances of
Giselle
in New
York. You need not bother coming back to Chicago until we begin rehearsals for
Le Corsaire
next month.’
    ‘What? But you can’t do that,’ Pia shouted, outraged. ‘I
am
Giselle. You can’t honestly think that . . . that girl . . .’ She paused. What was her
understudy’s name? ‘She’s not up to the job of filling my shoes. She’s not even up to the job of
tying
my shoes.’ She’d