“No.” At Natasha’s obvious interest, Rachel decided to elaborate. “We met about eleven years ago when I was choreographing a ballet he was dancing in. We hit it off and have been friends ever since.”
“Oh.” Natasha smiled brightly. “That’s nice.”
“That information pleases you.”
“No, not at all.” Natasha quickly denied. “I just…”
“Are you interested in Damien?”
“Damien has a no-dating policy for his troupe,” Natasha sidestepped her question. “I had to assure him tonight Dennis and I are just friends.”
“Really?” Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“His concern was professional, of course,” Natasha quickly added.
“Of course.” Rachel didn’t look convinced. “But you still didn’t answer my question—are you interested in Damien romantically?”
Natasha chose her words carefully. “Rachel, I like Damien. He’s been kind to me. But I’ve worked too long and too hard for this opportunity to jeopardize it.”
“All that’s true, but…”
“There you are.” Dennis touched Natasha’s arm. “I was beginning to feel ditched.”
Natasha could have kissed him for interrupting Rachel’s inquisition. She was quickly running out of ways to deny that she did have inappropriate feelings for Damien.
“I’m sorry.” Natasha took his hand. “I promise to be a perfect, attentive date for the remainder of the evening.”
“I’m going to hold you to that one.” He pulled her toward the dance floor. “Excuse us, Rachel?”
“Of course. Have fun.”
Rachel watched the two leave with mixed emotions. Natasha appeared to be honest and focused on her career, but she also was interested in Damien. She couldn’t blame her, but she had no intention of standing idly by again the way she had ten years ago while Damien got hurt. She intended to keep an eye on Natasha, just in case she wasn’t what she appeared to be.
* * *
As Natasha danced with Dennis, she found herself wishing she was being held in Damien’s strong arms again. Of their own volition, her seeking eyes found Damien, who stood several feet away with Shelia close by his side. Natasha suppressed a shudder as Damien’s intense gaze held hers for several moments before Dennis innocently led her away. She steeled herself not to seek out Damien’s gaze again, but she felt his burning eyes on her several times through the remainder of the evening, though he never physically sought her out, much to her dismay.
It was the best night of her life; it was also the most revealing, because seeing Damien with another woman made her realize that despite her good intentions, despite the inappropriateness of it, despite the innumerable reasons why she shouldn’t, she was developing feelings for her boss—feelings that she silently vowed to keep in check, somehow.
Chapter 4
The next morning at 4:00 a.m. Natasha walked into work, stifling a yawn behind her hand. After a night of merriment, she had somehow dragged herself out of bed at her usual time. She performed her morning workout and, humming music from the ballet, entered the rehearsal hall promptly at 5:30 sharp. Once rehearsal began, however, she quickly realized this was going to be a long, difficult day.
“No, no, no!” Damien shot out of his chair and walked toward the stage and quickly up the steps. “Natasha, what are you doing?”
“I’m dancing.”
“Is that what you called it?” An eyebrow rose mockingly as he reached her side.
She bristled at his insult, even though it was justified. She wasn’t at her best today; her mind had been wandering to the wonderful party last night.
“I’m…” His angry look cut her words short.
“This is the passionate part of the dance, and you’re not doing it right. You’re not crisp enough! You’re being stilted, careless and cold!” He screamed the words at her.
“I’m sorry.” His criticism stung all the more because it was warranted.
“I don’t want your apology.” He folded his arms across his broad chest as he glared at her. “I have to have passion from you. Passion! Do you know what that is?”
She bit her lower lip hard to stem the tears that wanted so desperately to escape from her eyes. She would not cry in front of him. She was a prima ballerina and she could take stinging criticism—especially when it was justified. He wanted passion, and she would show him passion.
“May I try it again?”
“You’d better.” He scowled as he walked off the stage.
She took a deep breath and released it, glanced at Erina, who gave her thumbs up for encouragement, and then began to dance. She must have done better, because this time Damien didn’t interrupt her, though when she finished he was still frowning.
“Again,” was all he said.
She performed the dance for the third, fourth and a fifth time before he allowed her to stop. She was breathing hard from exhaustion, but she was prepared to perform again until Damien was satisfied.
“That was adequate.” Some of the bite left his voice. “But it still needs work.”
She took heart in his words. At least he wasn’t screaming at her anymore, and in her book that was major progress.
“I’ll give it special attention.”
“Yes, you will.” He nodded curtly. “Dennis, try it with her.”
“Yes, sir.” Dennis took her hand and whispered in her ear, “You’ll get it.”
Natasha offered him a slight smile. “I will.”
“All right, you two, let’s go,” Damien ordered impatiently.
“Yes, sir,” they echoed in unison and began to dance.
The other dancers breathed a collective sigh of relief, glad Damien’s anger wasn’t directed at them. This was the first time they had seen him lose his temper, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Once lunch came, everyone was overjoyed for the break.
* * *
Natasha stood in front of her coach in a small rehearsal hall occupied by only the two of them. She chewed on her lower lip as Erina sternly lectured her.
“You are a prima ballerina now, Natasha,” Erina reminded. “More is expected of you than just being good. You must be great.”
“I know.”
“You were sloppy in rehearsal.” Erina touched her shoulder. “And you know it.”
“I guess I was distracted,” she admitted.
Erina frowned. “By what?”
“I was thinking about my party last night.”
Erina allowed her expression to soften. “It was a spectacular event, no?”
“It was better than I ever dreamed.” Natasha beamed. “Damien went overboard, didn’t he?”
“Mr. Johnson appreciates your talent, and you deserved every heap of praise you received.”
Natasha hugged her coach close and kissed her cheek. “Oh, I love you, Erina. You know that, right?”
“Of course I know that.” Erina returned her hug for a few seconds. “Now, we must put that type of emotion into your dance. Come now, let us practice, and when you return to stage, you will, how do you say, knock Mr. Johnson’s socks off.”
“Yes,” Natasha smilingly agreed.
“Let’s begin. First position. Now stretch,” Erina instructed. “Good. Bend more, more. Good.”
Erina ordered one difficult exercise after the other without hesitation, challenging Natasha’s strength and resolve. Natasha performed each maneuver without complaint; she was intent on being perfect when rehearsal continued, and hard work was what it took to be perfect.
About twenty minutes later, neither of them saw Damien, who had stopped in the doorway to observe his prima ballerina. He watched Natasha’s limber body arching and bending effortlessly. The lovely female curves strained against the thin leotard, l
eaving nothing to the imagination. He remembered the feel of that soft body pressed close to his last night and insanely craved a taste of her sumptuous lips; would they be as sweet as he imagined?
He felt an answering response in his loins as he unobtrusively watched her. He had put her through the ringers this morning, and she hadn’t complained—not once; instead she had worked harder, trying to deliver the performance he demanded. During the past week, his belief that she was a gifted, dedicated ballerina had been confirmed. She wasn’t a diva or a troublemaker; all she wanted was to dance. He hadn’t found any faults with her, personally or professionally.
Why did she have to be so damned beautiful inside and out, making him want her so much? And God help him, he did want her, but he knew he couldn’t have her. Purposeful denial was a distasteful state he didn’t intend to become accustomed to; he wasn’t used to denying himself anything—however, he knew that was exactly what he must do when it came to his craving for Natasha.
“Jeté, jeté, now fouetté.” Erina briskly called out different moves, which Natasha performed without stopping. “Good.” Erina beamed as she completed each maneuver. “Now, let us end up at the barre.”
Natasha quickly complied. After such a vigorous workout, she needed some relaxing time at the barre to stretch out her limbs. She placed a slender leg over the wood barre and then rose with her hands stretching toward the ceiling. Her back was arched. She held the position for at least a minute before relaxing and lowering her arms.
Natasha opened her eyes, and he watched her pupils dilate in surprise at finding him watching her with a look of barely restrained hunger. His eyes darkened intensely before he turned and walked away before she could say anything and more important, before he acted upon the strong impulse to pull her into his arms and fuse their mouths together for interminable minutes.
“Was someone there, Natasha?” Erina frowned at her pupil’s shocked expression.
“No, no one,” Natasha lied, dabbing her face with a towel.
How long had Damien stood there watching her? Had she really seen desire in his eyes directed at her, or had she imagined that? One thing was certain: she felt as if she had been stripped naked and ravaged on the spot—much to her chagrin, she wished she had been.
* * *
After rehearsing with Erina for an hour, Natasha continued working out in one of the training rooms with her friend, Simone. She gracefully rose from a plié before lowering to perform another. She was determined that when rehearsal resumed, she would dance flawlessly.
“Natasha, sit down and enjoy your lunch,” Simone said reproachfully.
“I’m done.” She raised her leg even with the barre and began stretching.
“You haven’t finished your salad.”
“You know that Damien likes to test our stamina in the afternoon.” She lowered her leg from the bar and slowly extended it behind her. “Besides, after this morning, I want to be perfect.”
“This morning was tense.” Simone took a sip of her water.
“That’s an understatement.” Natasha rolled her eyes.
“Well, you handled it perfectly, and by the end of rehearsal Damien seemed happy with your efforts.”
She sighed. “I hope so.” The last thing she wanted was to face his wrath again.
“Why were you so off-kilter?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe all the excitement last night.”
“It was a fabulous party, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Natasha smiled dreamily at the memory. “I didn’t expect anything so extravagant.”
“Why not? You’re a prima ballerina now.”
“I know, but more than anything all I want is my chance in the spotlight dancing the lead on opening night.”
“In a few months you’ll get your chance.”
“And I can’t wait.” Natasha’s smile brightened.
“It will be here before you know it,” Simone predicted.
“I hope so.” Natasha’s smile was replaced with determination. “But for now, I’d better try and make it through rehearsal without angering the boss again.”
Simone laughed. “I think that’s an excellent plan.”
“Natasha.” Dennis walked into the room, interrupting their conversation. “Want to go over our prelude dance?”
“Definitely.” Natasha turned to face her partner. “I can use all the practice I can get after this morning.”
“Well, come then, let’s get it on.” He bobbed his eyebrows dramatically.
“You’re such an idiot.” Natasha laughed and took his hand, throwing over her shoulder, “Excuse me, Simone.”
“Sure.” Simone stood. “I need to do some stretching myself.”
Dennis placed a hand on the small of her back to lead her to the other side of the room, where he twirled her around before pulling her close. She laughed into his smiling face and pushed out of his arms, but he laughingly pulled her back.
“It was a great shindig last night.”
“Yes, it was.”
“I had a blast with you.” He began to sway with her in his arms.
“I had fun with you too.”
“We could have more fun if you’d just say the word.”
“Dennis, I like you very much—as a friend.”
“Why not more?” He bent her backward and then pulled her back up to face him.
“Two reasons.” She pressed out of his arms. “First, I don’t want to destroy our friendship by trying to be more. And second, but more important, Damien doesn’t like his dancers to date, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize my position here.”
He sighed and kissed her hand. “Two very good reasons that I can’t argue with—especially the last one.”
“Good, now can we get to work?”
He sighed in resignation. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed, tapping his cheek playfully before pirouetting away from him.
Dennis was a dear and she liked him, but they would never be anything but friends. He didn’t make her heart flutter and cause the breath to freeze in her throat, refusing to exit her lungs properly, the way Damien did. At the forbidden thought about Damien, she again silently lectured herself—Damien was her boss; she was his prima ballerina, and they would never be anything else—period. At least, she tried to add a period behind that declarative statement; however, despite her best efforts, it didn’t seem to fit where Damien was concerned.
Damien entered his office and found Rachel sitting behind his desk.
“What are you doing rifling through my desk?”
“Oh, hi.” Rachel playfully extended her palms in his direction. “You’re not going to turn your foul temper on me, are you?”
He chuckled. “That depends on why you’re here.”
“I’m looking for the music for the second act. Do you have it?”
“Move.” He held out his hand and helped her to her feet before sitting down and opening the center drawer of his desk, retrieving a CD and sheet music. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She perched on the edge of his desk.
He reclined in his chair. “What else can I do for you?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Rachel,” he said and sighed. “Out with it.”
She smiled before asking, “Did you see Natasha?”
“She was rehearsing with Erina, but I didn’t speak to her. Why?”
“I thought maybe you would seek her out and apologize.”
An eyebrow rose arrogantly. “Apologize for what?”
“You were a little hard on her this morning.”
“Hard?” Damien laughed. “Compared to what I’m really capable of, I was downright pleasant.”
“Yes, you can be a devil,” Rachel agreed on a laugh.
“Did she complain to you?”
Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. Natasha wasn’t one to complain.
“No, of course not,” Rachel admitted. “I was just surprised to see you tear into her.”
“Why?” He sat forward. “I have a ballet to put on and precious little time to get my dancers ready.”
“True, but you’re attracted to Natasha. That was obvious last night.”
“Last night I was playing the host. Natasha’s my prima ballerina, and that’s all.”
“Is that why you personally went to offer her the job and why you take every opportunity to dance with her?”
He sighed. “I went to her house because I know what it’s like to need someone to give you a chance. I feel a sense of empathy with her. Is that a crime?”
“No, of course it isn’t.”
“And she’s not the first ballerina I’ve ever danced with.”
“No, but she is the first ballerina you seek out opportunities to dance with.”
“I do no such thing.”
“Say what?” Rachel chuckled. “Please, Damien. You can fool other people and even yourself, but not me. I’ve known you too long. Your entire demeanor changes when you’re in the same room with Natasha.”
Yes, you’re right. I can sense Natasha’s presence without even seeing her. There is an attraction between us, but regardless of how difficult it is to resist, I have no intention of acting on it—no matter how much I hate denying myself anything.
Aloud he responded, “You’re seeing things that aren’t there.”
“I just don’t want history to repeat itself.” All humor quickly dissipated. “I should have spoken up when you started dating that witch, Mia. I promised myself I’d never make that mistake again.”
“Hey.” He reached across and took her hand. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“I knew she was trouble, and I should have said something when I learned you were dating her. But I didn’t know how you would take it, and I didn’t want to risk losing your friendship if you thought I was just telling tales out of school.”
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