There was no denying the real interest in his voice. That was another thing she hadn’t had in her life. No one had ever shown such interest in her opinions or why she wanted to do the things she did. The council studied her reports, asked her questions, often disagreed with her findings, and sent her on her way.
“When I was little, a toddler, my mother would take me to the ballet with her. I would sit spellbound. I loved watching the performances. If I trained without complaint for shadow riding, she would always reward me with dance lessons.” She flashed a quick self-demeaning smile at him. “I think back then it was the sparkly outfits.”
“Judging by the dress you chose for tonight, it may still be,” he teased.
His playful bantering was another first for her. She found herself laughing. “That’s probably true. But you must know I was trained in classical ballet because you call mela mia danzatrice ombrarather thanla ballerina.”
“I studied your file, and I’ll confess I watched every video I could find of you dancing. You have the most beautiful lines. You’re mesmerizing when you’re onstage—from another realm. I can’t even explain it.”
She felt herself blushing when she didn’t blush. Geno seemed to bring that out in her. “Thank you. That’s a tremendous compliment.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I wanted to train in classical ballet because precise, flowing movements appeal to me. Tradition is important to me. I think more so than for most people because I don’t have a family.”
She looked out over the gleaming water. The way the sun shone down and made what appeared to be diamonds sparkle and roll on the surface fascinated her. Geno not only had three entire floors of a masterpiece designed by a brilliant architect, but this view from every terrace facing the river was breathtaking. The glass walls inside his home gave him the same views, so no matter if he was outside or inside he had the feeling of open space.
“I understand,” Geno agreed. “I do have a big family. We’re loud when we get together, and noisy, and we tease one another. Taviano and Francesca usually are the ones cooking, although we all pitch in to help. Crispino is always underfoot and repeating every bad word he hears to get his father in trouble. We have traditions we follow. I can’t imagine our lives without them. So, yeah, I get that.”
Amaranthe tried not to stare at him. She didn’t want to be so caught up in her fantasy she couldn’t distinguish it from reality, but it was becoming difficult not to believe she could be a part of his life. The way he looked at her and spoke in that soft, utterly interested tone was seductive to someone who had never had anyone of their own.
“What else made you choose classical ballet?”
He sounded fascinated. Completely drawn in. She ran her finger down her throat to stroke the sudden lump there. This was what it would be like to have someone care. It was dangerous. If she allowed herself to trust that there was a real bond between them, and their relationship could work, and she came to depend on it... She shut down the consequences of loss. Right now, in this moment, she was going to enjoy what she’d never had before.
“There are ethereal qualities in the ballet that I get lost in. I disappear into the movements and simply become them. That and the aesthetics appeal to the artist in me. When I’mdancing, the music flows through me and I’m not there. It’s just movement and artistry and the character if I’m performing.”
She could see by his slight frown that he didn’t understand, and she wanted him to. “It’s such a beautiful world, Geno.”
“You escape there.”
“I’m totally free. All of me. Every part of me. The training is rigorous for classical ballet, just as it is for shadow riding. That’s such a part of who I am. It’s demanding and you must be disciplined and push through pain and discomfort with your eye on the goal every moment. So when I dance and everything comes together, the training, the flowing movements, the ethereal beauty, I feel as if I’m experiencing complete freedom. My spirit, maybe, but even my body is leaping high and soaring across the stage in an effortless way.”
Geno flashed her a heart-stopping smile. He was really going to have to stop doing that or she might just keel over and faint. She hadn’t thought of him as handsome. He didn’t look like anyone’s idea of Prince Charming. The angles and planes in his face were carved too deep, too severe to give him the classic handsome look. Instead he appeared all man, almost hardened. Scary dangerous. The intensity in his eyes and that hint of cruelty around his mouth didn’t help with his image.
Geno fit the image of a man with money. He lived the lifestyle. He carried himself confidently and easily commanded any room he entered, but while Stefano looked sophisticated, Geno looked as if he belonged more in Valentino Saldi’s world than the Ferraro world. He had that dangerous of an edge to him.
“You have the talent to dance with any of the larger, renowned companies. Surely, you’ve been approached. I’ve read through my mother’s notes, and she observed that in her opinion, your dancing compared with some of the best dancers in the world. She would never say something like that lightly.”
Amaranthe had to turn completely away from him. She’d never received so many compliments in her life—all of which appeared to be genuine. She heard the sincerity in his voice. She was trained to hear lies. It was one of her gifts, and Jean-Claude and the other instructors training her had insisted she develop that trait, testing her daily.
Geno tended to be casual when he gifted her with a compliment. He didn’t make a big deal of it; he stated whatever he said as a fact. That was so much better than flowery compliments she would have known weren’t sincere. The things he said would stay with her forever. She wanted to hold them to her and take them out when she was alone to go over every word.
“Yes, I was honored more than once with a request to try out, but I’m a shadow rider first. I work for the International Council, and dancing is a cover. That means I have to take work with the smaller companies just as I did here in New York.”
“That means you will never have the chance to dance on a big stage with the best of the best, Amara. You deserve to be with them.”
“I’ve had the privilege of working with remarkable dancers. If I’d stayed with one company, I never would have met these wonderful dancers, all of whom taught me something I had yet to learn. I’m a shadow rider, Geno. I wouldn’t give that up for any reason. I love to dance. I do, but I’m a shadow rider first. That’s who I am. It’s who I was born to be.”
Geno swirled water in the crystal glass, still looking at her intently behind his smoky glasses. “You do realize you trained from the time you were two, first by your parents, and then not only your training but essentially your entire life was shaped by the council. You could change the course of your life if you wanted. Your career in dance would take off and the Ferraro family would back you.”
That offer was sincere as well. She frowned, trying to puzzle out what else she heard, what underlying note wasthere. He wore his expressionless mask, and the dark gray glasses covered the look in his eyes so she couldn’t read him. It didn’t matter. She knew the truth, and she was going to be honest with him about the things that counted.
“I’m a shadow rider, Geno. The offer would be amazing, but I would never voluntarily give up riding.”
She felt his instant satisfaction. More than satisfaction, almost as if he’d been holding his breath, determined to give her an opportunity to change her path if that was what she wanted.
She studied his face. He was so much younger than she had originally thought he would be. Younger than Stefano when she had thought the cousins were the same age. She knew most people thought that because they were the head of their families and Geno looked older than he was, but in fact, he was several years younger.
