“Five minutes are up,” Monty says. I furrow my brow. I’m not even sure it’s been a minute.
Monty, the director, is old school. The other dancers aren’t in this room, and the coaches are waiting to take over to handle the flow of this part ofthe ballet, between me and Topher. Monty wants to see the mechanics of the dance, and I’m not up to snuff today.
I throw myself into it, making myself work harder. And it is work. The dew is definitely off the rose with dancing. This is Mom’s dream, not mine. I’m tired of killing myself to be better than good. I work hard enough that my feet bleed and I cry every night, but I’m still not the best. There are others in the Manhattan Ballet Company who are naturally better than me and deserve these roles.
More talent, more drive, more fire.
And I’m more than aware that my mother’s a huge benefactor of the ballet. I know the gossip. My principal role was bought.
When the torture is over for the day, I try to linger in a quiet spot near the changing rooms and call Leon.
It goes straight to voicemail.
And my entire body prickles with awareness.
Declan sticks his nose against the back of my neck which is damp with sweat. He licks my slick skin and I shiver. Then he blows gently, and my knees almost buckle as need swamps me, so thick and hot I almost drown.
It’s like he’s tonguing my clit.
Blowing on the wet, tender flesh, making it swell and throb and ache with a desire only he can fulfill.
“That your boy-toy’s number?” He licks me again, slides an arm around me, and plucks my phone out of my hand before walking away.
I chase him, trying to snatch the phone as his fingers fly over the screen.
“Stop that.” I reach for it but he pulls it away.
He shoots me a look. “Make me.”
A gaggle of dancers stare as we rush past. A few at me, butmostly—something nasty pulls sharp in my chest—at him. One of them utters a dreamy sigh.
Whoever she is, I hate her, too.
Someone barrels out of a darkened, empty rehearsal room, fast.
I don’t have time to move as whoever it is slams into me and shoves me hard, almost picking me up as they push past. “Bitch!”
I go flying back into a wall.
Declan loops an arm around me and pulls me to him, steadying me.
And now…I’m plastered against him.
Such delicious torture.
“Who the fuck was that?” he asks, one hand sliding down to my ass to mold me into him and the thick erection that’s forming in his pants. “Your stalker?”
I piece my fractured thoughts together. “I don’t know. Someone in a hurry?”
“To knock you down?” He captures my chin with his other hand and tilts my head up to his. “Because, Molly, that’s what it looked like to me. And he was dressed not to be identified. Hood up, cap low. Or was that someone you knew?”
“You really are a piece of shit. Don’t think you’ll be working as my bodyguard after today.” I step on his foot, as hard as I can, and he just raises a brow.
I wiggle free and start to run. He’s got my phone, I realize, but that’s okay. There’s one spot I’ll either find Leon, or someone who knows where he is.
I squeal as I suddenly fly through the air and land stomach first onto a shoulder.
Declan holds my legs, one hand dangerously high on my leg. I slap his back with my palm.
