Full Circle by Donya Lynne Read Free Book Online Page A

him up the steps to the jet and was greeted by a
pretty, dark-haired flight attendant dressed in a flattering grey
suit. The gold tag pinned over her right breast read “Janie.”
    “Good evening,” Janie said, waving her
forward.
    “Hi.” Karma looked from her to the interior
of the cabin. There were only four seats—all upholstered in
cream-colored leather like the seats in the limo—and each wide
enough to comfortably fit a three-hundred-pound defensive
lineman.
    Janie gestured inside. “Please make
yourselves comfortable. We’ll be departing shortly.”
    Mark ushered her toward the two seats on the
left, where they sat facing one another.
    She glanced around at the light interior. Not
only were the seats cream, but the walls were, too. And every
panel, every cabinet, and even the ceiling of the cabin was trimmed
in gold. The plush leather was a far cry from the uncomfortable,
cramped, vomit-hued fabric seats she remembered from her last
airplane trip.
    This was how the rich and famous traveled,
not the everyday common citizen.
    “Have you ever flown on a private jet?” Mark
crossed his ankle over his knee, eyeing her.
    “No. Have you?” But she already knew the
answer. And wasn’t it apropos that Mark would prefer to travel this
way than on a crowded commercial jet? If you had money and means,
why settle for less than the best? And it was becoming clearer by
the second he had both.
    His expression remained even, not giving much
away. “When I was a kid, my parents chartered private jets to fly
to dance competitions. I traveled quite a bit with them.”
    So, lots of experience flying on private
jets. Noted.
    Mark hadn’t told her much about his parents.
She knew they were professional dancers, instructors, and
choreographers, but that was about it.
    “Did they win a lot of competitions?”
    “Almost every one they went to. They were
unbeatable in their day. Now they mostly choreograph and teach,
although they still dance in exhibitions, even at their age.” He
smiled fondly as he glanced absently—maybe even a little
forlornly—out the window.
    The pilot announced they were preparing for
takeoff as she wondered about his reaction. Did he miss
dancing?
    “Why didn’t you follow in their footsteps?”
Usually, children professionally followed their parents in families
as prestigious as Mark’s. At least, that’s how it seemed to Karma.
You only had to look at football to see the family legacies at
work. The Mannings, the Longs, the Montanas. Typically, like father
like son. So, how had Mark come to denounce dancing and turn toward
business instead, especially when it appeared he still felt a pang
of longing to cut a rug?
    He fastened himself into his seat with a
tense shrug. “Dancing just wasn’t in the cards for me.”
    “There has to be more to it than that.” He’d
told her that when he was a kid, he’d practically lived in the
studio, as well as on the competition circuit with his parents.
With all that exposure, it was surprising he hadn’t followed in
their well-placed footsteps.
    Mark looked out the window, the line of his
brow tight. “I was good. I trained with them and could have
competed if I’d wanted to. But then . . .”
    This had to do with Carol. The reason he had
walked away from dancing had to do with her, didn’t it? Maybe not
entirely, but somehow Carol had been the one to clinch the deal and
force him off the dance floor for good.
    As the jet taxied toward the runway, he
tapped his fingers restlessly on his armrests. “For a while I
thought I might pursue dancing, but I was never as good as my
parents. I knew competing would only be marginally successful for
me. So I turned my attention toward earning my business degree. My
grandfather was an Italian immigrant who built a fortune as a
successful Chicago businessman. His success allowed my mother to
follow her dreams of becoming a professional dancer. Between his
money and her talent, as well as my dad’s, they’ve