Page 83 of Allegiant

“You don’t need to come with me,” I tell him for the hundredth time. “You must have better things to do than watch me dance.”

“Nope.” He leans past me to open the door for me. “Can’t think of a single thing I’d rather be doing, to be honest.”

I try to hide my smile at his gentlemanly action. For all his grumpy bluster, I suspect Samson’s hiding a secret sweet side.

My smile fades as I realize why he hides it. If he wasn’t allowed to dance, he probably wasn’t allowed to be many other things either.

Including sweet.

Well, I’m going to show Samson he can be all of that with me and more. I’m not sure why or how he came into my life, or how long he will be part of it, but I’ll be forever grateful for it. He stepped into my darkness and sat with me there. He didn’t leave me.

I’ll always be thankful. Giving him a safe space to be himself feels like a good way to show that. Even if it’s only for the next two days. After this, I’m going to have to cut back on how much time I’m spending with him. Sleeping next to him each night, being fucked and sucked into oblivion, not to mention just being taken care of the way he has is…

It’s all too much. Too dangerous.

Samson falls into step beside me as we pass various classes. With a show around the corner, I’m not on the rota for the next few weeks. I still pop my head in every door we pass, checking everyone is happy and has what they need.

“Why aren’t you the manager?” Samson asks as we exit the final room.

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “The owner, Derek, decided we don’t need a manager because we’re coping fine without one.”

“Hmm.” Samson scowls. “That sounds like corporate speak for ‘you’re already doing the job, so why should he pay you for it?’”

“Got it in one.” I sigh. “I know I should push, but he leaves us alone. He rarely even shows up, just lets us get on with things. Sure, it’s not quite like having my own studio, but it’s close enough.”

“Except the lack of money.”

“I get by.”

“Still, don’t you want your own place?”

“Someday.” I smile wistfully. “I’m not sure it’s in the cards for me, but I can dream.”

Samson’s quiet as we make our way to the theater. I suddenly realize something. “Wait, don’t you have to work? I don’t want your boss being mad at you for spending so much time with me.”

Samson chuckles. “Don’t think Wylder gives a fuck, to be honest. He’s probably happy I’m not under his feet, bugging him for more work.”

“Wylder’s your boss?”

“Yup.”

We step inside the theater, and I pause to flick on the lights. I’m the first one here, which isn’t unusual. This place feels more like my home than my apartment most days.

To be honest, Samson’s room feels more like home, too. Which is a problem I’m going to need to face eventually.

“What exactly is it that you do?”

“Oh,” Samson says casually, “I’m an assassin.”

I roll my eyes, even if my mind does flicker to his dagger for a second. But there’s no way the Buckinghams are killers. They’re chaotic, but…no fucking way.

“Fine, don’t tell me. Keep your secrets.”

I wait for him to tell me what he actually does for a living, but he’s too busy studying the auditorium with a frown on his face. “Do you have to rehearse in here?”

“Um, yeah.” I hitch my dance bag higher on my shoulder. “We start our rehearsals in a studio, but this close to the show? We have to be on stage to know where our marks are and to iron out our blocking. Why?”

“It’s too dangerous,” he bites out. “Too many places to hide.”