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This one is mine, though.
“You’re tremendous, Hellena.” Nadia reaches for my hand, and I help her to her feet. She’s a professional dancer from the Czech Republic, giving me compliments. Again, ridiculous. Talk about imposter syndrome, every damn day.
Danielle squeezes my shoulder as she passes by. “You’re going to slay tomorrow night, girl.”
“Only because you taught me how to do that Valdez.”
“Says the woman with the impossible Spider Cartwheel,” Adrian teases, halfway out the door.
They’ve all made me feel so welcome.
Each of the dancers, from the Australian troupe to the individual talent Evan brought in, have given me invaluable tips and listened to my suggestions in turn. It’s the most incredible creative endeavor I’ve ever participated in.
And the sense of community I feel for them is something I’ve always craved.
“I need to run a few errands. Why don’t you head home, Hellena?” Evan says offhand, a clear dismissal.
“I can come with you, if you want.”
We usually stay after, either for paperwork or the favors and deliveries that seem to have doubled along with our training. It’s become a routine. One I look forward to.
Which might have something to do with the fact that I keep hoping he’ll make another move.
The last two weeks have been torturous.
He’s doubled down on being a cantankerous jerk and an insufferable tease.
I am more sexually frustrated than I’ve ever been in my life. I mean, how is he going to give me the best sex of my life and then cut me off? I know he wants more.
And it’s not that we haven’t gotten close again.
Every time we dance, it’s a raging sea of passion, lust, almost ending in the act every fucking time. At this point, I would just let him take me in front of the other dancers if he initiated it.
But he’s still the boss, and we have an insurmountable pile of favors and side jobs, plus the monster of planning this ball.
“Not this time. I’m going to the venue. And you need to get as much rest as possible before the show.”
I put on my best pout as I gather up my things. “Like I’ll be able to sleep at all.”
“I promise, the surprise will be worth it.”
“Except I hate surprises.”
“Tough. Be ready for me to pick you up at five tomorrow. We need to get there early.”
“Yes, Mr. DeSante.”
“No wonder you’ve always worked for yourself. Any other boss would fire you for insubordination.” He stalks toward his office.
“Maybe you should ‘subordinate’ me, then.” I can't help myself as I skip out of the room, spinning ahead of him like I know he loves.
“That’s the opposite of resting. I can't have you?—”
“Can't have me?” I echo from our night together. “Can't have me what?”
He bites the tip of his tongue, refusing to look at me.
“I can’t have you fatigued or injured. Everything needs to be perfect. I need you at your best.” His voice is calm, less imperious than usual. I can tell how exhausted he is. He doesn't even have the energy just to verbally spar with me as often lately.
