Dangerous Dancer (Dangerous Series Book 1)

by L. P. Rose

  Wow! That’s so generous. Not! I pulled my hand to my lap and widened my smile and thanked him like he was doing me a massive favor.

  “What are you having to eat?” He asked signaling Felipe back to the table. Obviously, Max had made his selection whilst I still hadn’t even opened my menu, let alone chose. Quickly I flipped it open and selected the first thing my eyes landed on.

  “I’ll take the steak Diane, please,” I said, when Felipe came to a standstill at our table, “and a glass of single Tia Maria.”

  “Would you like the usual?” Felipe asked turning towards Max.

  The usual? They know him here, he’s been here with someone else, my brain screamed at me.

  Max’s eyebrows shot up into his blonde hair. “Excuse me? The usual? I think you have me confused with someone else,” he growled.

  “I’m sorry, I meant… the special, my English…it’s not …so good,” he stumbled, red-faced.

  “Yes, I’ll take the special,” snapped Max. He grabbed my menu and practically tossed them both at Felipe.

  I shifted in my seat and straightened my posture. “Have you been here before?” I asked. My voice sounded more confident than I felt when Max’s infuriated gaze turned towards me.

  “Of course not! He obviously has me confused with someone else.”

  “But he knew who you were when we walked in here,” I challenged. My fingers began to mess with the cutlery laid out in front of me, nervously.

  “That’s because I called in here on the way home and personally booked the table. Why are you questioning me, Raine?”

  I went to speak but his loud laugh rang out around the restaurant causing me to gulp. “Don’t tell me you think I’ve been here with another woman or something?”

  “Well, you have to admit it looks a little suspicious, Max.”

  He pushed to his feet, leant over the table, and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me face to face with him and lowered his tone, “How many more fucking times do I have to tell you I’m not having an affair? If you’re going to continue with this bullshit, then I may as well go and find myself a bit of pussy on the side. Is that what you want, Raine. Huh? You want to push me into another woman’s arms?”

  His grip was increasing and I could feel my skin pinching in his tight clutch, my heart was in my mouth as I shook my head. He let go of my wrist, and I sat down and flexed it under the table. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, as Felipe arrived with our drinks.

  Grasping my glass, I knocked the drink back in one and closed my eyes trying to stem my silent pants for breath. “Here is your present,” I heard him say. With a deep inhale through my nose and a slow exhale through my mouth, I slowly opened my eyes and prepared to take the velvet gift box. I blinked once, twice, and then sat staring at his outstretched hand, there was no velvet box to be seen. I glanced up at him, he sat smiling and winked.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s your present, come on open it,” he said excitably. I glanced back down at his hand, then took the envelope from him and ripped it open. My eyes teared in utter misery as I looked at the book token.

  “I thought you could get a book on Ballroom dancing, it will help with your classes, do you like it?” he asked, like an excitable child.

  I swallowed against the egg-shaped lump in my throat. I couldn’t form any words to respond, my heart lay crushed somewhere in my gut. I continued to look at the insulting book token through my blurred vision and all I could wonder was, who was the bracelet for?

  CHAPTER SIX.

  I crashed through the door of the studio rather inelegantly; wild hair, red-faced, and panting for breath. The pain in my chest from running felt like it was ripping me in two. I didn’t realize I was so unfit.

  “You’re ten minutes late, Myshka!”

  I doubled over with my hands clamped firmly on my knees desperately trying to draw a breath to speak. I raised my head and nearly stopped breathing altogether. Nikoli was sat on a wooden chair facing towards me, his legs splayed wide in what looked like an open invitation, with his arms folded across his chest. His well-defined biceps were clearly displayed along with a tattoo in the white vest he was wearing.

  My eyes moved up to his face, his chin was tucked down but his dark, brooding eyes looked up at me. His lips were gently pursed and drawn into a slight, playful smile. He looked the epitome of handsome, and for the first time since meeting Max, I mentally cheated on him. I uncharacteristically envisioned myself crawling on all fours, like a sex fiend, across the floor towards Nikoli. I straddled his lap, then attacked his mouth with my own like my life depended on it. I surprised myself when I realized I’d enjoyed every second of my imagined infidelity.

  I let out a snort and tried to push that image from my mind. “I’m sorry,” I gasped.

  “Raine, you need to be prompt to these lessons, I can’t do my job and teach you to dance if you’re going to keep me waiting,” he replied softly rising to his feet. “What kept you?”

  In truth, I’d spent the day while Max had been at work, rooting through everything of his. Clothes, drawers, cupboards, the basement, the hidey-holes he thinks I’m unaware of that are scattered through our house, the garage, the attic. You name it, I searched it. I was desperate to find something to prove his infidelity, but I found absolutely nothing. The time had run away with me and when I realized I still hadn’t purchased something suitable to dance in, I had to get to the nearest sports shop, buy my goods, locate the changing rooms, then I ran the ten-minute drive to the studio because I couldn’t hail a cab. Now, instead of arriving with the big smile and forced confidence to attack this lesson with gusto like I had planned, I was a panting heap of a mess, barely able to say more than two words.

  “Traffic,” I panted.

  He smiled and handed me a fresh bottle of water. “Sit down and have a drink, you’re no use to me in this state.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. I took the water bottle and sunk to my knees then fell to my backside.

  “I see you took my advice and dressed for the occasion,” he said with a nod towards my new outfit of black sweats, sneakers, and a racer-back Lycra top that I’m sure was on a size 12 hanger, but now felt like a size 8 as the material crushed my upper torso.

  “I watched Step Up 2 The Streets.” I shrugged and uncapped the water.

  “Oh, that would explain why you’re dressed for street dance and not Ballroom,” he laughed.

  “There’s a difference?” My cheeks ignited in embarrassment at my latest faux pas and I closed my eyes, wanting to be anywhere else, but here.

  “Leggings and a t-shirt would have sufficed, but if you’re comfortable in sweats, that’s cool. I just want you to be at ease here, I never want my students to feel out of place or feel like they can’t do this.”

  It was at this point that I suddenly realized how quiet the studio was. I glanced around casually and noticed there was no one else here. Where’s Jared? He said he took Ballroom. I cleared my throat and screwed the top back on the bottle. “Is everyone else late too?” I asked.

  I heard him chuckle then sigh. “No, they are next door with Petra. After yesterday’s brief meeting and seeing how uncomfortable you were I thought it would be beneficial for you to have your first lesson on a one-on-one basis. Maybe get your nerves out of the way, teach you the hold, some basic steps and then you’ll know what to expect by the time your next lesson comes around,” he replied.

  He held his hand out to me and I glanced at it unsure if I should take it. Then I thought about how he’d gone out of his way to make me feel comfortable on my first lesson. I raised my hand and allowed him to pull me to my feet.

  “Do you have a hair tie?” He asked as I drew level to meet his twinkling dark eyes. I shifted my gaze to my feet and shook my head.

  He walked towards the table, my eyes instantly raised to follow him. “I have one here, in future I advise you tie it up, long hair is a safety risk when dancing,” he said and handed me the bright pink hair tie. Nodd
ing, I took it and leant forward, my hands swept through my thick mane and gathered it in one hand before securing it into a top knot.

  “Better?” I asked, bringing myself upright. A tingling sensation ran up my spine when I took in his look. His eyes were poised on my neck, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips, his Adams apple jutted up and down like he was swallowing hard or pushing something back down inside of himself. My hand flew to my neck. I tried to think if there was some conspicuous mark there that shouldn’t be. He closed his eyes and turned away when my hand blocked his view.

  “Show me your frame,” he said. He took a step back and asserted himself to the task at hand.

  I pushed my feet together, straightened my back and held up my right arm bent at the elbow and shoved my left elbow out to the side like I’d seen in the movies. Nikoli smirked then came towards me, he pushed his fingers up under my elbow, it moved with ease. “Your frame needs to remain firm, resist my push.”

  He pushed again, this time I kept my arm rigid and pushed against him. He smiled then moved behind me, my head instantly tried to follow him, “Eyes to the front, Myshka.” His hands gently turned my head back to face the window. “You’ll probably tire of hearing me talk about the dance hold, but good dancing begins with the correct hold,” he said from behind me. I could feel the warmth of his breath hit the back of my neck and I shuddered slightly.

  He was in front of me again and stepped closer, my chest was inches away from him and suddenly, I felt nervous. I felt my arms begin to sag and chewed on my bottom lip. “Hold your frame,” he ordered, his hands gently rested under my arms and pushed them back up. “In a closed dance hold, you will be positioned slightly to the right of your partner, and your feet slightly offset, so that the right foot of either of you can step between the other’s feet, it prevents you from knocking knees together.” He dropped from my eye line and moved my feet to the correct position.

  As I caught my breath, he was back in view with a lazy smile then he stepped into me. “The man’s left hand goes to the lady’s right hand, palm to palm in an upper-hand clasp, with fingers and thumbs closed around each other’s, do not point any of your fingers.” His hand slid in to mine and our fingers curled around each other’s.

  “My right hand is loosely cupped and sits on your shoulder blade, my wrist contacts your underarm at the junction of your arm and body.” I felt his palm slowly move across my back to my shoulder blade and I noticed goosebumps coat the surface of my arms. “Your left hand and forearm sit on my upper arm, resting on where the seam of a shirt would be.”

  I repositioned my hand as per his instructions and he smiled in encouragement. “The right half of the man’s front sits with the right half of the lady’s front, the connection between us begins at the upper thighs and should continue through the diaphragm,” he whispered. His thigh met mine and it was all I could do not push myself closer.

  My body heat increased when his eyes wandered to my neck again and lingered there. “Perfect,” he said then dropped his frame and moved away from me. I stared after him wide- eyed and confused by the way my body had so easily responded to him.

  “So, how long have you been married?” He asked throwing me off-kilter at his nosiness.

  “Two years,” I mumbled uncomfortably. I didn’t want to talk about Max or my marriage with a stranger and especially not with him.

  “He’s a lucky man,” he said with a smile. He sucked back the water from his bottle, with his right hand sat loosely on his hip. He looked like one of those models from a TV advert for bottled water and I suppressed a small chuckle that was swirling its way through me.

  “He doesn’t think so,” I whispered to myself. I hadn’t said it quietly enough and I caught Nikoli’s head swivel in my direction.

  “He’s a fool then, Myshka!”

  Why does he keep calling me that? I must google the term. “With all due respect, I’m here to learn Ballroom, not talk about my husband,” I snapped, then I winced when my head shrunk into my shoulders at my outburst.

  “I’m sorry, I was just trying to be friendly,” he griped. I pulled my lips into a firm, thin line, and broke eye contact with him.

  “Frame!” He ordered sharply, causing me to jump as his loud voice bounced from the silent studio walls. Quickly I pulled my arms up and positioned my feet as he had shown me, then I waited for his approval, but it didn’t come. He merely stepped back into me and took up his own frame.

  “Next lesson, I’ll talk you through the terms of top line, the midline, and the front line. Now we have your frame sorted, next is your head. I look over your right shoulder and you look over mine. The only rule to follow here is that your nose should follow your toes.” I poised my head while he spoke and looked over his right shoulder.

  “You must maintain your frame at all times, tone must be kept in the arms and all connection points must stay intact. If you let your frame collapse, turns are difficult to lead and partner dancing becomes impossible. I don’t want to see you with noodle arm. Practice this frame at home as much as possible, because believe me, your arms will ache like a bitch if you don’t.”

  “I didn’t realize it was so technical,” I mumbled.

  He smiled and raised his eyebrows, “Ballroom is definitely technical. Latin would have been easier for you to learn providing you have a sense of rhythm.”

  “That’s me buggered then, I have no rhythm, no sense of timing and two left feet.”

  He let out a laugh which was obviously contagious because I chuckled along with him. “You have rhythm, Myshka, it just has to be unlocked, your timing is perfect, after all you’re here and as for the two left feet? That makes you unique.”

  I felt something strange fleetingly whirl through me at his compliment. If I’d have said that to Max he probably would have said something like; That’s because you’re useless, you’re only good at looking pretty.

  I broke my hold from Nikoli and rushed towards the wall where I’d left my bag, and stooping down I frantically rooted around inside. The tears prickled behind my half-closed lids, my breathing became shallow and my head began to thump. My fingers located my Valium, I popped the lid and shoved one in my mouth before a panic attack gripped me.

  Nikoli squatted down behind me, I felt his arm reach over my shoulder and he removed the bottle of pills from my hand. “Valium?” He questioned quietly in my ear. I nodded.

  “I have …panic …attacks,” I stuttered. My breathing began to even out and the fog that had clouded over me from nowhere, began to lift.

  Nikoli chucked the bottle back in to my bag and sighed. “Are you okay?” He whispered.

  I nodded and felt his hands slide under my arms to lift me back to my feet. “Seems I have my work cut out in many ways. What triggers them?”

  I looked around the studio and swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. It’s passed now. I’m going to go home and I’ll see you at the next lesson?” I asked, as I bent to grab my bag.

  “Wait! I’ll drop you off, make sure you get home safely,” he said when my hand reached for the door handle.

  “NO! …. No, you can’t. I’ll be fine,” I growled. I opened the door and again, ran from him.

  *

  For the second time since meeting this curious and fascinating woman, she ran from me, again. Anger coursed through me at the way she had snarled at me, but it was the fear in her beautiful and enchanting eyes that was angering me more, and I wanted to know what the fuck she was hiding.

  My gut instinct told me her husband had something to do with it.

  I slammed the door behind her with annoyance and strode to my office completely pissed off, agitated, and irked by how the lesson had ended. I fired up the computer and prepared myself for a long night ahead. I was going to find out anything and everything I could on Mr. and Mrs. Peters.

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  “Nikoli, wake up!”

  I rolled over and groaned, pulling the duvet over my head. I felt the be
d dip next to me and instantly pushed back, forcing myself to sit upright. “Petra?” I rasped through sleepy vision as I tried to focus on my sister’s face just inches from mine.

  “What are you doing still in bed?” She asked with a giggle, “Was it a woman?”

  “What? No Petra. What are you doing in my apartment? I gave you a key for emergencies.” I threw myself back down in to the comfort of the bed and closed my eyes. My head was throbbing from the whisky I’d consumed over the course of the hours I had been cyber-stalking Raine.

  “This was an emergency, Niki. I’ve called you a dozen times with no answer and it’s nearly 5pm so I came over. I was worried about you.” I felt her body weight sink into the bed next to me.

  I rolled onto my side to see her lying there, her hands clamped behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling with a wide smile. She sighed in such a contented, happy way, that it made me smile, too. “Spill it, you pulled last night, didn’t you?” I asked.

  She let out a squeal that made my head pound a little harder but I winced through the pain.

  “I did!” She announced. She thrashed her feet around in excitement. I couldn’t help but grin at her. My little sister’s happiness meant a lot to me, although she was a big girl at the age of twenty-four, I still saw her as the fourteen-year-old girl she was when we first came to Manhattan to make a new life for ourselves. It had only been she and I for the last ten years. Lovers and friends had come and gone over that time but we always had each other.

  “You’d love her, Niki, she’s gorgeous. She looks just like Mila Kunis. Maybe tonight? We are going to Mexicana opposite the Plaza if you’re up for it?” She asked and turned her head towards me, fluttering her eyelashes.

  “Don’t do that to me, Petra. You know I’m a sucker for caving in to fluttering eyelashes,” I said. I moved myself to sit at the edge of the bed and grabbed a pair of lounge pants.

  “Come on, Nikoli. You won’t be the third wheel! Misha, Jodie, Jenson and Mike are coming too.” She rolled onto her stomach and poised her hand under her chin, holding her head up.