Not “living with.” It was temporary. And they weren’t sleeping together—literally or figuratively. It should be totally fine.
Somehow she didn’t think the showrunners would see it that way.
The memory of dancing with Dimitri in his private studio, watching the passion flare between them on video, flashed through her mind. She sucked in a breath and knocked the heel of her hand against the steering wheel. God, he was hot. When he put his hands on her, she melted. All good sense flew out the window. Even her fingernails buzzed with need. It was killing her to stay away from him.
But after what Kevin had told her, it was more important than ever that she stick to her rule.
She grabbed her car keys and purse and headed into the building. This line of thinking was only working her up, and she needed to stay cool around Donna. The woman was like a shark, scenting gossip in the water.
Donna Alvarez was in her tiny, cramped office with the door open halfway. Natasha knocked lightly on the jamb. “Hi, Donna. You have something for me to sign?” Better to get to the point.
Donna looked up from her laptop and smiled. “Oh, hey, Tash. Come on in.”
There was a spare chair on the other side of Donna’s desk. Natasha perched on the edge. God willing, this would be a short visit. Then she could get to hair and makeup, get the shoot over with, and go on with her day. She still had classes to teach in the evening.
“Let me just find it.” Donna opened and closed her desk drawers, shuffled a pile of folders. “How’s your summer going? I noticed you haven’t been posting on Twitter much.”
Mira ese comemierda.Kevin was right. Donna was stalking her social media.
“Busy. I took on a bunch of gigs.”
Donna flipped open a folder, shook her head, and set it aside. “Oh, really? What kind?”
The producer’s tone was mild, politely interested, but it would be stupid to let her guard down around Donna. The woman had a mind like a steel trap and never forgot anything she was told—especially if she could use it against someone later.
“Teaching, mostly. Yoga, spin class, ballet—that sort of thing. A few modeling spots.” She could have been booking higher-paying jobs if her agent weren’t on vacation at the moment, hiking in Canada and largely off the grid.
Donna smirked. “You’ll be in great condition when the next season starts. Just don’t hurt yourself. I need you in fighting shape. Hoping to go two for two.”
Ah. She was hoping Natasha would win. Donna had also been line producer for Gina, who’d just wonThe Dance Off’s trophy. If Natasha won the next season, Donna’s dancers would win twice in a row. And if there was one thing that could be counted on, it was Donna’s ambition.
It was a bad idea to joke around with her, but curiosity won out. “Does that mean you have a clue about who my next partner will be?”
Donna huffed out a laugh. “You know I can’t tell you that stuff, but I’m working on securing someone for you who will strike the right . . .note.”
Note, huh? Maybe he was a musician or some kind of singer. The singers who joinedThe Dance Offwere usually up-and-comers hoping for an increased fanbase, or aging crooners aiming for a comeback and a leg up with the younger generation. Usually they had pretty good rhythm.
“Aha!” Donna held up a folder in triumph. “Here it is.”
Natasha took the papers and scanned them quickly. She and her agent had already viewed the PDF, but she needed to sign the hard copies. “No other clues?” she asked as she signed, using a pen from the “I (Ballet Slipper) Dance” mug on Donna’s desk.
“IfI can get him, he’ll be a better fit than Dwayne Alonzo was. You two will burn up the dance floor.” Donna’s expression turned serious as she accepted the papers Natasha handed back. “But I have to warn you, Tash. After Gina and Stone, there’s a crackdown on fraternizing with the celebs. Sexual chemistry is one thing, but nothing obvious.” She raised her eyebrows and sent a meaningful look across the desk. “I’m just saying.”
Heart pounding, it took all Natasha had to nod calmly. “Understood.”
She didn’t point out that Donna had been instrumental in outing Gina and Stone’s relationship. Didn’t mention that Donna’s own machinations and manipulations had resulted in secret footage of them kissing, when they weren’t mic’d and Gina hadn’t even known they were being filmed.
Gina’s response had drawn sympathy from fans, who’d taken to social media to lambaste the producers and editing team.
But Natasha didn’t mention any of that. Because really, how much worse would it be if she were caught fucking one of the judges?
After she left, she sat through hair and makeup, idly scrolling through apartments in neighborhoods like Sherman Oaks and Glendale on her phone. Nothing jumped out at her, and the activity stressed her out, so she was glad when it was time to enter the largest rehearsal room, where the segment would be filmed.
A camera crew swarmed around a makeshift set with a full lighting setup and backdrop. Donna chatted with a woman Natasha recognized as Vita Schwartz, a host from a Los Angeles morning news show. Natasha greeted the camera crew, stepped around a cluster of PAs, and froze.
Motherfucker!
Of course. She should have fucking known. This day had been going too well.
