I laughed off the compliment. Turning to Luca, I asked him, “Have you skated before?”
“A bit.”
Like blood from a stone with this one, ladies and gentlemen.
“That’s OK. Most people have only done their pre-show training anyway.” Celebrities had an intensive three-week training course to familiarize themselves with the ice before coming to us. I waited for him to add anything, but he didn’t, so I tried again. “Danced at all, then?” Previous dance experience would help our chances of winning.
“Yes. What was on the curriculum at LaGuardia.” My brows shot up, a smile tugging at my slightly parted lips.Jackpot. He attended one of the world’s most prestigious performing arts schools.He woulddefinitelyhave had extensive dance training, then.
“Wow, that’s impressive. LaGuardia must be incredible. What was going to school there like?”
“It’s not impressive. I got in, so I went.”
If I hadn’t still had a throbbing nose, I’d have assumed, based on his attitude, that I’d hithimwith the door and not the other way around. He wasn’t being rude per se, just very…direct. His complete candor about everything was sort of shocking—most celebrities starring on the show had been PR-trained within an inch of their life. None of them were anything like Luca.
I ignored his attitude, determined not to be thrown.We need to be friendly for this to work, for us to have a chance at winning.
“Either way, it’s impressive.” I settled back in my chair, and Jack nodded in silent agreement. “So, you have dance training—that’s great. What’s your fitness like?”
I felt like an imbecile asking Luca Vasvault this question. He was in incredible shape. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick, and I had certainly noticed how well his jeans hugged his legs and arse when he’d exited the bathroom earlier.
“Good.”
“Luca,” Jack warned, but my smile didn’t falter.
“What sort of exercise do youdo?”
He released an exasperated breath and leaned forward in his chair.
“I do a mixture of weight training and cardio around six times a week with an active rest day. The physicality of our performances won’t be a problem.” Luca’s lips pressed into a thin line as he sat back in his chair.
Hallelujah.Finally, more than three words.
“That’s great. We should also watch some dances from the show to get a feel forit.”
He offered a simplenod.
“Do you have time this week to review some recordings outside of our training schedule?”
It was pretty full-on: We had six weeks of intense practice until the first live show, which would take place the following Saturday.And from there on, it was one performance a week. If we made it to the final, it would be just over sixteen weeks of training and performing.
“Definitely. Right, Luca?” Jack prompted.
“Right.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone as he looked around the room, disinterested.
“We could go over them on Friday evening; it might be nice to grab some dinner and watch the tapes.”
“We only need to do the dinner if the cameras are present. If they aren’t, there’s no point.” Luca’s voice was clipped.
I quickly weighed up my options. Should I let it go to avoid pissing him off even more? That was my first instinct, yet I could almost hear my mother’s resigned disappointment if I didn’t win another season. Sharing a dinner wasn’t going to make or break our performance, but it did have the potential to help.
“I get what you mean, but if you look back at the previous winners, they’ve all been genuine friends and actually got to know each other beyond just skating on the show.”
His brow furrowed deeper.
“Do you want to win?” I offered, hoping to hide the impatience in my tone. “Most of my other partners haven’t been bothered, but we need to decide whatourgoal is so we can plan how we move forward.”
“I need to win.”
