Chapter 10
Maxime
We did it. Moments ago, the couple with number ninety-two left the ballroom. As in the past few days, the hours flew by relentlessly. Behind the double glass windows of the old academy building, daylight won't linger for much longer.
Cyrille Perret claps his hands. "The final meeting will take place in theKongroom." He stands, buttoning his jacket. Then he addresses Madame Durand. "Don't worry; we'll have privacy. I've made sure of that."
The academy headmistress is not the only one raising her eyebrows at his words. I wonder how much it cost to rent the entire venue on Rue du Pont Neuf for one evening. One must have money...
"An excellent choice. Very tasteful," Madame Durand responds with a nod of approval. It's no secret why she fawns over him. Without his money, she'd be jobless, and the academy would be just an insignificant school for competitive and show dancers. Keeping Cyrille in good spirits is her main occupation, and I don't envy her for it.
Silently, I take the folder with the evaluation forms and leave my seat. We walk the three blocks through the 1st Arrondissement to the Japanese fusion restaurant on the topfloor of a traditional townhouse. The evening air is still too warm to refresh me, yet I appreciate the short walk and let my gaze wander over the decorations on the facades of the buildings.
Juli catches up to me. The clacking of her high heels is unmistakable, even amid the city's noise. "That was quite a performance you gave on the dance floor," she says with a giggle.
Oh no, not her too.
I avoid looking at her. The mere mention of the dance makes that tingling sensation resurface within me. "You didn't believe me, so I had to show you," I reply, trying to sound cool. It's amazing how confident I seem.
"And how you showed us..." She shoots me a mischievous sideways glance while walking. "It was quite... um... hot. At one point, I thought you two were about to set the ballroom on fire."
Instead of responding, I laugh amusedly as if she made a really good joke. I even pretend I can't stop while I'm desperately searching for a suitable reaction.
"I'm just a pro," I finally say even though I hate sounding so conceited. But it's the best explanation for what Juli, and probably the others, witnessed today.
We reach the restaurant building, step inside, and head for the elevator.
While we wait, Juli leans in toward me. "You've convinced me, though. I will vote in favor of this Aurora," she whispers.
My heart skips a beat. That was precisely my goal, but now I'm not sure I really want that.
Should Aurora be accepted? Is it a good idea for her to join my dance classes? To conceal the emotional turmoil inside me from Juli, I nod gratefully in response.
During the ride up, nobody says a word. I use the time to focus.
As we enter the restaurant with a vast glass dome as its only roof, I gasp for breath. I've never been here before, only heardabout the fantastic view. But what I see now is even better than I imagined.
The panoramic view over the rooftops of Paris, the Pont Neuf, and the Seine impresses with its urban beauty. The sky is dotted with cotton candy pink clouds, with delicate shades of orange shining through their undersides.
Cyrille gestures with a grand sweep of his hand for us to take our seats at the table in the center of the dome. The silverware gleams just like the glasses. At the head of the table stands a giant champagne cooler with five bottles, each adorned with golden stoppers protruding from the ice bath.
"Welcome to the final meeting," says our benefactor, then summons the server boastfully.
He explains the ten-course menu that awaits us today and recommends suitable wines. I have no idea what he's talking about, so I do the same as the others.
Chin slightly lifted. Nodding with approval. Using words likeexcellentandspectacular.
As we are alone again, Madame Durand looks around with a significant look. "We have a lot to do, so I suggest we start right away."
Thanks to the three rounds of evaluation for the slow waltz, quickstep, and rumba in the past days, we are well-practiced and progress quickly. Fortunately, Cyrille refrains from expressing his opinion. Even though he has seen all the couples dance today, he cannot provide a professional evaluation. Despite his usual arrogance, he seems to understand that he shouldn't interfere.
With each additional couple we assess, my nerves intensify. Soon, the topic of discussion will be Aurora. Will I receive a reprimand for dancing with her?
As David gives his scores for couple number twenty-two, the wine is served. By the time we reach couple number thirty, I'm already pouring myself a second glass.
What if Aurora doesn't make it?
And what if she does?
