The 99th Game Was Mine All Along novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

At this announcement, the younger dancers erupted in excited squeals and whispers. 

“Oh my God, Luigi Maggiore is coming here?” 

“I heard he hasn’t attended a social event in months!” 

“Do you think he’s looking for new talent to sponsor?” 

The company scattered to their dressing rooms, frantically touching up makeup and adjusting costumes, each hoping to catch the eye of Boston’s most eligible widower. 

Only Ariana remained frozen in place, her mind racing with alarm. 

Why would Luigi come backstage? Even during his most obsessive pursuit of her years ago, he had never once visited her behind the scenes–his assistants had simply delivered roses or arranged town cars. 

Her thoughts spiraled into darker territory. Was this somehow connected to the revenge plots he’d schemed with his friends? Had he somehow recognized her despite the mask? Was he planning some new humiliation as punishment for deceiving him with her false death? 

Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms as fragmented memories of the ninety–eight “pranks” flashed through her mind. 

“Ariana,” Margaret’s concerned voice cut through her panic. “You’ve gone completely white.” 

“I just-” she managed, her usual composure crumbling. 

“You don’t look well at all. Perhaps you should return to the hotel before he arrives. I’ll make your excuses–some diplomatic nonsense about vocal rest affecting your breathing. Don’t worry about Maggiore–we’ve got plenty of donors without him.” 

Ariana nodded gratefully, not trusting her voice. With a quick pivot, she headed for the stage door, not even pausing to remove her performance mask or change from her costume. 

avy velvet curtain, 

Just as she reached the exit corridor, approaching footsteps echoed from beyond the heavy accompanied by the theater director’s sycophantic voice. 

“Right this way, Mr. Maggiore. The company is absolutely thrilled you’ve joined us tonight. Your support of the arts is legendary.” 

As the curtain began to part, Ariana’s heart nearly stopped. She quickly ducked into a shadowed alcove used for quick costume changes, pressing herself against the wall as Luigi entered the backstage area. 

The Back Swan’s Final Revenge Pirouette: The 99th 

Langt stepped in the owned hacker, ly nadomeške arah tha the Hy wat Matra 

Female dancers in various stages of cosy 

flame, voices overlapping as they introduced the 

“Mr. Maggiore, I danced the second variation 

“-such an honor to meet you- 

“-would love to show you around Boston sometimes 

RMA MARA 

Their competing fragrances created a suffocating cloud of flora and 

fat made him physically recall. The artificial sweetness reminded him, by warkoor, offs sample sent over clean soap and occasionally a hint of jasmine when shed splurge on key test 

four 

He endured their attention with practiced stoicism, his eyes methodically teasing the sear Something–someone–had drawn him here, and it wasrt these eager young women with their cons 

ambitions. 

As he nodded mechanically at whatever the blonde in front of him war sefing, a barely perceptible sent cut through the perfume fog the faintest trace of jasmine and something undgquely familiar. His body recognized it before his mind could process why 

Luigi’s attention sharpened, his gaze sweeping the room with renewed focus until locking onto a shadowed alcove where a figure in a pink costume stood partially concealed. 

“That would be your principal dancer, wouldn’t it?” he asked abruptly, cutting off the blonde 

mid–sentence. 

With those words, he redirected every eye in the room toward the corner where Ariana had tried to hide. 

Finding herself suddenly illuminated by attention, she felt her pulse stutter, then race wildly. The artistic director, realizing Ariana hadn’t managed to escape, shot her an apologetic glance before reluctantly motioning her forward. 

Ariana approached with the measured composure that years of performance had instilled in her, though her heart hammered so violently she feared it might be visible through her costume. 

Luigi made no attempt to disguise his scrutiny. His eyes tracked methodically from her temple to her toes, lingering on specific details–the particular curve of her wrist, the precise length of her fingers, the slight asymmetry in her shoulders that he had once memorized while watching her sleep.