He was smiling down at her, his eyes alight with affection and excitement. She saw the moment he realized her apprehension though because his expression softened even more.
“Breathe, Maggie,” he encouraged her, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand in a soothing circle. “This is for fun, da? There is no need to worry.”
Maggie let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and nodded to let him know she’d heard him. His calm reassurances eased her tension somewhat and she had to admit his excitement was infectious. She just needed to loosen up and that was something she’d spent her entire life avoiding.
It wasn’t just the break up with Declan and the damage that it did to her career, it was her parents’ divorce, the moving from town to town as a child. There was never lasting peace. She’d always been wound up tight and it wasn’t until Anatoly came into her life that Maggie felt she could breathe without something going wrong.
Or maybe it was the assurance that even if it did go wrong, he’d be there to help her pick up the pieces? The thought, right or wrong, made her smile and that instantly brightened Anatoly’s features, which only made her heart constrict with warm, fuzzy emotions.
“Sorry in advance if I stomp on your feet,” she told him in a whisper, only half-listening to Roxanne’s instructions.
Anatoly chuckled in response. “So long as you don’t mind stepping on two left feet.”
She couldn’t resist giggling back at him but stopped the instant she realized Roxanne had joined them.
The tall, lithe woman was smiling politely, but there was a sternness about her as though they had just been caught exchanging notes in Math class. “Show me your steps, you two,” she said, her tone even and not at all scolding. “You lead, Anatoly.”
They attempted and Maggie thought it was quite valiant. At least nobody got stepped on or fell over or anything else that her mind had cooked up to frighten her. She knew they had messed up several of the steps though, as beginners often did. Especially when they weren’t paying full attention to the instructor.
“Not bad, but it needs some work. Maggie, try loosening your hips more and you’ll find the rest will come more easily. As for you, Anatoly, slow your tempo just a little. You are very eager and that is good, but don’t rush. Enjoy the moment, the music, the sway,” and she demonstrated again what they were supposed to be doing.
Maggie resisted the urge to chew on her bottom lip, not wanting to smear her lipstick, and focused on taking the advice to heart. As Roxanne moved off to check on the other couples, the pair of them continued to run through the steps. Before long, Maggie felt like she was beginning to get a feel for it and her confidence slowly rose to match her growing excitement.
“What made you think of dance lessons?” she finally asked Anatoly when their first break came. They were walking over to the refreshment counter so Maggie could get a bottle of water to sip on. A light sweat coated the back of her neck and underarms from the exertion and she hoped her deodorant would hold up through all this.
Anatoly shrugged as he swiped a bottle and cracked the lid for her, then passed it over. “It seemed most fun, interactive option available. Did I choose poorly?”
“Not at all,” Maggie answered with a smile. “I’m having a great time, Anatoly. This was an excellent idea.” She accepted the bottle and took a few quick sips before passing it back to him.
He seemed to understand the importance of pretending to be ‘normal’ and so he accepted, drinking a gulp before quickly handing it back. “Delicious,” he fibbed with a wink and Maggie couldn’t help but laugh.
Curiosity got the better of her and she leaned in close, speaking quietly so only he could hear her. “I was surprised I could see your reflection,” she remarked.
Anatoly grinned at that and whispered back conspiratorially, “That is how you know mirrors are not silver.”
She was in the middle of a sip when he said it and her eyebrow shot up quizzically. “What does that mean?”
“Silver is pure metal, that is why reflection does not show,” he explained just between them. “But modern mirrors not made with silver. Antique mirror however might be problem.”
Maggie shifted closer still until their bodies were barely touching. She was feeling much better, playful even, as she told him in a husky voice, “I’m glad I don’t need a mirror to see how handsome you are.”
The compliment made his neck and face flush a ruddy shade of red and he stuttered something in Russian before putting an arm around her waist to pull her closer. “Likewise,” he countered. “Though, you are stunning and not handsome per say…”
He continued to stammer, but Maggie’s eyes were drawn to the door as it opened. Normally she’d have taken note of whoever came in and returned to her conversation with Anatoly, but the sight of the monstrously tall man who stalked in made her entire body tense up.
Luka Markov strode into the studio like he owned the place, except he wasn’t accompanied by a woman. He was flanked by four absolute goons all wearing nondescript leather jackets that no doubt hid illegal firearms.
Markov himself was wearing a tailored suit of rich quality, and when his eyes landed on Roxanne something dark passed over his face. Then he noticed Maggie watching him and she could see his figurative hackles raise.
“Shit,” she muttered, and beside her, Anatoly only nodded in agreement.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Without hesitation or fear, Maggie started in Markov’s direction, intending to confront him. She didn’t need a warrant to speak to the man outside his business establishment which meant she could press him here and hopefully take him off guard.
She didn’t make it more than a step before Anatoly put an arm around her, stopping her in her tracks. Her gaze flicked to his face and she saw the flash of concern in his eyes begging her to stay away. Duty pressed down on her and she knew she might not get another chance like this.
“This is a private class.” Roxanne beat them both to the punch, moving with grace in Markov’s direction as though she too had beef with him. There was recognition on her face and great displeasure. “Please leave, Mr. Markov, your presence here is highly inappropriate.”
