We walk quietly to the door, my relief at not being found out only increasing my shame. As he steps out into the corridor, Gerardo turns to me, his eyes reflecting both urgency and sorrow. “Take care of yourself, Vaeda.”
“You too,” I respond softly, fighting back a swell of unexpected tears.
He heads toward the elevators, leaving me standing alone, enveloped in an unsettling quiet. I press a hand to my chest as I close the door, feeling the rapid thud of my heart beneath my palm. Relief continues to wash over me, mingling painfully with shame and sorrow. I shouldn’t be relieved that he’s gone, but I am.
My thoughts inevitably drift to Mateo, to the intensity of what transpired at the studio tonight. The memory burns vividly in my mind, the lingering sensations threatening to weaken my resolve. I shake my head firmly, closing my eyes against the wave of longing that surges fiercely.
“This has to stop,” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible in the empty room. “I have to end things with Mateo. I can’t keep risking everything like this.”
I walk toward the large windows, staring blankly at the twinkling city lights stretching out before me. The beauty of the cityscape does nothing to soothe my restless spirit, my guilt-ridden heart.
A single tear slips down my cheek, a stark reminder of the emotional turmoil I’ve brought upon myself. My life had been structured, predictable, and secure until Mateo crashed into it, disrupting everything I’d carefully constructed. Despite the chaos, the temptation, and the undeniable attraction, I must remember my obligations, my loyalty to Gerardo, and the integrity I’ve always valued.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself against the storm raging within me, determined to reclaim control. This reckless passionwith Mateo must end, even if every fiber of my being cries out against it. For Gerardo’s sake, and for my own sanity, I must find the strength to walk away.
The following morning arrives too quickly, dawn creeping in with muted shades of winter gray that perfectly match my mood on Christmas Eve. Sleep had been elusive, my night spent staring at the ceiling, haunted by guilt and wavering determination. Gerardo texted me to let me know his plane landed and that he’ll call me as soon as he can. There’s a disconnect between us, and we’ve settled into emotionless texts, something we vowed to never let happen.
I dress mechanically, throwing on a black lacy bra, a comfortable cardigan, and a long black skirt, then pull my hair into a loose ponytail before shrugging into my winter jacket and heading to Fusion Core.
When I step into the studio, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee greets me immediately, causing an involuntary groan to escape my lips. I move into our office, finding a familiar Starbucks cup sitting prominently on my desk. The gesture is thoughtful, but under the circumstances, it feels almost mocking.
Greyson sits behind his own desk, head bowed, his expression deep in concentration as he pores over the monthly financial records. I know this look, the rigid set of his shoulders, the slight furrow of his brows. He’s been awake for hours, lost in numbers and ledgers, trying to keep us afloat.
We do well in our beginners’ classes, but the number of students slowly dwindles over time as the degree of difficulty increases. My wedding Waltz classes do well, but they are onlyfive classes in total. As for our advanced class, Kari, Adam, and Yvonne pay us well, but Greyson made a deal with Mateo. Since we are a secret and he has no other way to pay us, Greyson accepted the deal of taking a portion of any of the winnings he may earn from competitions. Even though he understands the risk of us winning nothing in the end. Greyson truly thinks Mateo’s infamy is payment enough, I believe.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” I murmur softly, stepping further into the room and picking up the coffee. I take a tentative sip, the warmth spreading through my chest and offering temporary comfort against the weight of my guilt.
“Vaeda.” Greyson’s voice is sharp as his gaze lifts slowly from the books to meet mine. His eyes narrow slightly, suspicion evident in his guarded expression. “We need to talk.”
My stomach churns uneasily, but I maintain a neutral expression, hoping to deflect whatever he suspects. “About?”
“You know exactly what,” he snaps, a harsh edge slipping into his voice. He leans back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. “What the hell were you really doing with Mateo last night?”
The blunt question lands between us, loaded with accusation and tension. I pause, taking another slow sip of coffee to gather my thoughts before taking a seat at my desk. “We were rehearsing for Paris like I told you. Mateo wanted extra practice, and I agreed to help him. Nothing more.”
Greyson snorts, shaking his head dismissively. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Vae. I know you better than that. I’ve known you for years and I see things others miss. You were acting strangely. Mateo was too.”
I press my lips together tightly, refusing to admit the truth, even though my pulse betrays my anxiety. “I told you, Grey. It was just practice.”
He watches me carefully, eyes piercing through my defenses, before exhaling deeply and leaning forward. “Look, I didn’t show up here last night to work on the ledgers. I received a call from Yvonne, and she told me the lights were on in the studio. She was worried someone broke in.”
Anger courses through me as Yvonne’s obvious intentions hit me. She saw me and Mateo together at the diner. When he left, she must’ve watched him come straight here. She knew what she was doing by calling Greyson, and I’ll never forgive her for that.
“I’m sorry you were disturbed. She should’ve called me instead—”
“I won’t pretend to understand all your choices, especially your marriage to Gerardo, but he doesn’t deserve to be hurt. He’s always been good to you,” he interrupts me, cutting off any other excuses I might have said.
His words cut deep, stirring up a wave of guilt that nearly overwhelms me. I nod slowly, swallowing hard as I set down my coffee cup. When Gerardo and I decided to get married, Greyson was the only one to advise me not to. He was worried that the love Gerardo and I felt was confusion for the tension that comes with being longtime partners on the floor. Even now, Greyson questions if we are truly meant to be together, and even though I haven’t been acting as such, I love Gerardo.
“I know. There was a fleeting moment. The dance, the music, it all became distorted and… I don’t intend to let this get out of—”
Greyson interrupts me once more, his voice softer but no less firm. “Intentions don’t matter, Vae. Actions do, and right now, your actions are speaking volumes.”
I avert my gaze, staring blankly at the polished surface of my desk, unable to meet his disappointed stare. “I understand.”
“Do you?” he challenges gently, his tone now heavy with genuine concern. “Because this could ruin everything you’veworked for. Not just your marriage, but the studio, your career, and your reputation.”
His words ring with undeniable truth, echoing the warnings I’ve whispered to myself countless times. The stakes are impossibly high, the consequences devastatingly real.
