A Dance too Far

by H L Day

  A Dance too Far

  _______________

  H.L Day

  Other books by H.L Day

  Time for a Change

  A Temporary Situation (Temporary series; Tristan and Dom #1)

  A Christmas Situation (Temporary series; Tristan and Dom #2)

  Kept in the Dark

  Refuge (Fight for Survival #1)

  Taking Love's Lead

  Edge of Living

  Copyright

  Cover Art by H.L Day

  Edited by Diane Nelson

  Proofread by Judy Zweifel at Judy’s Proofreading http://www.judysproofreading.com/

  A Dance too Far © 2019 H.L Day

  All Rights Reserved:

  This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  A Dance too Far is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  Intended for an 18+ audience. This book contains material that may be offensive to some and is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

  Blurb

  Love can be dangerous!

  Valentin Bychkov, rising star of contemporary Russian ballet, appears to have everything: wealth, talent, success, and a face and body to match. Not that anyone can get close. Bypass the entourage and there's still Valentin's sharp tongue and acerbic wit to deal with. He may give his body freely, but his emotions are kept tightly locked away.

  Max Farley's life is a simple one. All he's interested in is work, drinking, and picking up the latest in a long line of one-night stands. The way he chooses to live may not be to everyone's taste but it suits him down to the ground. He's never met anyone who's made him want to confront the demons from his past. Until now.

  A show in London brings the two together. Lust brings them closer still. But if rumors of Bratva connections turn out to be true, then dangerous men wait in the wings. One dangerous man in particular, who's used to people following his orders without question.

  Difficult choices need to be made on both sides. Valentin and Max need to stop playing with fire and let each other go, or face the consequences. But letting go isn't that easy where love is concerned.

  And some things are worth the risk.

  Warning: This book contains a snarky ballet dancer with an aversion to clothes, a little too much wall sex and an overabundance of Russian heavies.

  Foreword

  This book came from one thing. I saw the gorgeous cover picture on a stock photo site and knew that I had to write the story, and Valentin was born. Okay, maybe two things, I was also watching whichever season of Arrow has Bratva in, so a few influences from that may have leaked into the story, just ever so slightly.

  Dedication

  To all the people who read and enjoy my books, and look forward to the next one.

  You know who you are.

  Thanks

  A huge thank you to my beta readers for this book, Jill, Fiona, Barbara, T.A, Tanja, Karen, Anarra, Belinda and Sherry.

  And a massive thank you to Diane Nelson who stepped in at the last moment to provide editing in order for me to get the book out on time.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Thanks, from H.L Day

  About H.L Day

  Finding H.L Day

  More books from H.L Day

  Chapter One

  Max

  Just when I was convinced that escape from the bedroom was going to be possible without him waking up, he sat up in bed. Bleary eyes searched the room, eventually focusing on my location and watching intently as I fastened my belt while avoiding looking his way. "You're leaving?"

  I went to nod, stopping mid-action when the pounding in my head due to last night's overindulgence made it clear it wasn't a good idea. "I'm late for work."

  The man in the bed ran a hand through his rumpled blond hair. "But you can stay for breakfast? Or a cup of coffee at least?"

  I recognized that expression. It was the "I can't believe that after everything we did last night, you're going to leave just like that” look. I recognized it because I'd been on the receiving end of it far too many times to count. Why couldn't he have stayed asleep? Five more minutes and I'd have been out of there, and we could have avoided this conversation altogether. "Listen, Aaron..." At least I remembered his name. "...I'm really late. I'm not just saying that." I checked my watch, wincing at the time. "I'm meant to be across the other side of London in ten minutes to start a new job, so..." I let the rest of the sentence hang there.

  His eyes turned cold. "My friends warned me about you."

  I bit back a sigh. It appeared as if my hangover was going to come with a free dose of early morning drama. The temptation to simply ignore the comment and leave was strong, but I guessed I wasn't quite as much of a dick as I liked to think I was. Turning to face him, I kept my voice as even as possible. It might be drama, but it didn't need to escalate any further. "Did they? What did they say?" I could probably guess, but sometimes it was better to hear it straight from the horse's mouth rather than fill in the gaps yourself. Who knows, maybe it would be something I hadn't heard before.

  His face turned belligerent, the sheet dropping to reveal several red marks on his neck that I guessed I'd been responsible for. "That you don't do relationships, that you're more the ‘fuck ’em and leave ’em’ type."

  I shrugged my shoulders into my jacket. It was lucky that last night's undressing hadn't started till we'd gotten to the bedroom. Not that I could remember. The whole night was pretty much a blur. "Yet you still chased me." He had. For weeks. Everywhere I'd gone, he'd popped up, offering himself up like some sort of tasty appetizer. He'd even gone as far as cock-blocking me a couple of times when I'd had someone else in my sights. I'd made it clear I wasn't interested. But at some point after the third or fourth tequila, his sex appeal had increased exponentially, and I'd gone home with him against my better judgment.

  "I thought..." He looked embarrassed, his cheeks taking on a distinctive rosy blush.

  I rolled my neck from one side to the other, trying to ease some of the stiffness out of it from sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. He was a good-looking guy with a good body. There was nothing wrong with him. But there was nothing that stood out about him either. Not to me anyway. But then you could say that about all the men I slept with. They scratched an itch. Gave me a physical release. Nothing more. I didn't need anything more than that. I didn't want anything more than that. "You thought you might be special?"

  He shrugged, unwilling to admit that what I'd said was the truth. "Why don't you do relationships?"

  It was my turn to shrug. I knew. Of course, I did. But it wasn't something I was willing to discuss with a near stranger simply because our bodies had gotten intimately acquainted for a few hours. I offered a tight smile. "Maybe li
sten to your friends next time. They were trying to help you."

  He looked hopeful for a minute, his lips curling into a smile far more genuine than mine had been. "Okay. No relationships. I get it. But everyone needs a fuck buddy, right? I can give you my number."

  I shook my head, the pounding having eased off enough that it wasn't too painful. Bloody tequila! "Thanks, Aaron, that's sweet, but I'm going to have to turn down your generous offer." I took another pointed look at my watch. "I've got to run. See you around."

  I didn't wait for his response before hightailing it out of the bedroom and managing to find my way out of the unfamiliar house.

  * * * *

  I slid down lower in the seat and laid my head back as the tube train approached Covent Garden. As a freelance sound engineer, I was used to working in many different venues. The Royal Opera House was a first though. Apparently, the person lined up to do the job had had to pull out at the last minute. Something to do with a family emergency triggering a trip to New Zealand. The head of set design, and a long-term friend of mine, had put my name forward as a possible replacement. So there I was, on my way to hang out with a load of ballet dancers for the next few weeks. I wouldn't normally have been available, but I'd been planning on taking some time off. But with the money they were offering, plus an additional bonus for taking the job on such short notice, it was too good to turn down. The planned trip to a sun-soaked beach somewhere exotic would have to wait. It was for that reason that I wasn't too concerned about turning up late. If they were desperate enough to pay me almost double what I was used to, then they were hardly likely to turn me away for being a bit late. I checked my watch again, my mouth twisting. Okay. More than a bit—an hour late.

  I sat up as the tube train slowed to a stop, the man in the seat opposite catching my eye and making a point of letting his gaze travel slowly down my body. Jesus! He must be desperate. I hadn't looked in a mirror, but given the way I felt, and the fact I hadn't showered or shaved, I knew I was hardly looking my best. Perhaps he dug the homeless look. I averted my gaze and headed for the door farthest away from him.

  It took another fifteen minutes to reach the imposing white stonework and intricate masonry that made up the Royal Opera House. I navigated my way between the columns that fronted the building, wishing I'd had time to stop for something to eat. Or at least a coffee. I'd kill right then for a coffee. I doubted there was going to be much on offer inside. Particularly for a latecomer reporting for duty on his first day. A further ten minutes was wasted while security checked out my story. It seemed that nobody had thought to change the name of the previous employee to mine: a glaring oversight on someone's part. It took multiple phone calls and conversations before it was finally sorted and I was issued with a pass and a set of directions to where I needed to go.

  I wended my way down the corridors, attempting to recall the barrage of "left, right, right, left" instructions I'd been given, and thankful for the occasional sign that told me I was on the right track. After a long trek, I finally reached the side door that would take me into the auditorium and therefore to the sound booth next to the stage.

  I'd barely gotten a foot inside when my arm was grabbed and I was hustled back out into the corridor, the door banging shut loudly behind us as Noel's furious face glowered into mine. "For fuck's sake, Max! Do you know what time it is? They've been asking where the hell you are. I put a good word in for you to get you this job. So you being an irresponsible dick reflects badly on me. As well as you. Not that you probably give a damn. But I do."

  Noel and I went back years, ever since school, but I couldn't remember ever seeing him this pissed before. Not at me anyway. I removed my arm from his grasp. "I had a problem getting through security. They were still expecting the other guy."

  "For two fucking hours? I don't think so." His nose wrinkled. "You stink of booze, and you look like shit. What happened?"

  "I woke up late."

  His eyes narrowed. "In whose bed?" He huffed when I made no effort to dispute the assumption. "Fuck! Just for once, couldn't you have..." He sighed dramatically. "Never mind. You're here now. If you weren't so good at your job, I swear..." He pulled me back through the door, gesturing at the sound booth at the side of the stage. "Down there. Get yourself acquainted with the equipment. The dancers are due onstage at any time for rehearsals, so you've got little to no time to get your shit together." He backed away a couple of steps. "Don't let me down, Max, please. You might be able to float around and pick and choose your jobs whenever you feel like it, but the rest of us rely on consistent money coming in."

  I resisted the temptation to point out that I hadn't asked for his recommendation, offering a wholly unconvincing "sorry" instead.

  In return, I got a weary headshake, the beginnings of another sigh, and then the view of his back as he walked away to go back to whatever he'd been doing before he'd felt obligated to lie in wait for me. He'd be fine once he'd calmed down a bit. I headed for the booth, the small dark space I'd share with a couple of other people for the next few weeks. Being a sound engineer sometimes felt like living underground.

  I glanced at the stage on my way past. It was still a hive of activity, which meant it hadn't been cleared for the dancers yet. That still gave me some time to get my head around whichever sound console they used, and quickly read through what they required. If I was lucky, I'd also get a chance to test audio levels and start turning acceptable into something that sounded great. It should be child's play for someone of my experience. I'd rather have done it with coffee and breakfast inside me, but I supposed that beggars couldn't be choosers. I should have asked Noel to get me something. I chuckled to myself as I imagined the earful I'd have gotten in response if I'd dared to raise the subject that I was running on empty.

  In the end, I got twenty minutes before rehearsals kicked off. More time would have been useful, but I guess I'd sacrificed that the moment the first tequila had slipped down my throat the night before. Everything went smoothly for the first three dancers, Noel appearing by my right shoulder just as the third finished their routine. He looked a hell of a lot calmer than he had earlier. I quirked an eyebrow at him. "See! Everything's under control."

  He pulled a face. "Thank God for that."

  I gestured toward the stage. They'd called a halt while they discussed some sort of issue with the last dancer's performance. It had looked fine to me. But then what did I know about ballet dancing. "Where're the female dancers?"

  Noel laughed. "You don't do any research at all, do you?"

  I shook my head, pausing to smile and give thanks to the stagehand who'd taken pity on me and magicked up a coffee from somewhere. He blushed and scurried away. I was beginning to think I needed to adopt the rough-and-ready look more often. If you counted the guy I'd woken up with, that was the third expression of interest I'd had in so many hours. I rubbed a hand over my chin, the stubble rasping under my palm. "What was I supposed to research?"

  Noel rolled his eyes. "This show is all-male contemporary ballet. So if you're waiting for the women to pop up, you're going to be waiting an awfully long time."

  "I see." I let my gaze rove slowly over the muscular physique of the dancer still onstage. The job was starting to seem too good to be true. Extra money, and I got to ogle muscular men on top of that. I wondered how many of them were gay.

  Noel's gaze followed mine, his brow furrowing. "And don't even think about chasing any of the dancers. Leave them alone."

  "I don't chase." It wasn't arrogance talking, it was the truth. I didn't need to. On the rare occasion I expressed interest in someone who didn't reciprocate, I moved on. There were plenty more fish in the sea.

  The dancer left the stage, making way for another to walk on seconds later. I found myself staring, something about him immediately commanding my attention. I didn't know whether it was his sheer presence, the graceful way he walked, the way he looked, or a mixture of all three, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. After the first three
dancers, I'd grown somewhat accustomed to the extremely revealing ballet tights. But none of the others had filled them out in quite the same way this guy did. My scrutiny started at his bare feet before traveling over every inch of his muscled calves and thighs encased in tight Lycra.

  I swallowed with difficulty as I reached the distinctive bulge of his crotch. The similarities between how he and the other dancers were dressed ended at that point. Their costumes had all been full body. This guy though, was bare-chested—unless you counted the scrap of black, lacy material fastened around his neck. Matching material also adorned his forehead, the color the same as the short, cropped black hair.

  Every inch of skin on display—and there was a lot—was flawless. And yet it still was not as beautiful as his face. I'd never gone for makeup on men. There was nothing wrong with it, it just had never been my thing. But on this guy it worked, the blue eyeshadow and eyeliner gave his eyes an exotic slant, while the lipstick and blusher drew attention to the perfection of the features they highlighted. He wore no jewelry. Although, that may have been because he was onstage. Whatever the reason was, he didn't need it.

  "Who's that?" My voice came out breathless, my eyes still glued to the stage as he took up position in the center.

  Noel snorted. "The star of the show of course. Rising star of the ballet world, Valentin Bychkov."

  "Valentin?" I tasted the name on my lips. It suited him. An exotic name for an exotic man. "He's Russian?"

  "Father was Russian. Mother was English. Why do you..." Noel finally seemed to clue into the reason I was asking, his head swinging around to peer into my face closely. It was clear that he didn't like what he saw. "No. No. No. Don't you dare. I said the dancers were off-limits, but this one is most definitely off-limits. Don't even think about it. Don't go near him. Don't even mention his name. I'm not joking, Max. There are lots of rumors about the sort of people he's mixed up with, and they're not the sort of people you want to get on the wrong side of. So, I take back what I said earlier. Chase the other dancers to your heart’s content. Fuck them all if you want to. But not Valentin. Stay away from him. He's not worth getting your kneecaps broken over."