He nodded, impressed.
‘So, now let me set up the camera and we will show them a few steps from each of our dances. Something they can copy and do at home,’ said Gabriele.
I frowned. ‘Do you really think they’d be interested?’
‘Yes,’ he said, putting his phone in his pocket and leaping up the steps onto the stage. ‘These reels I do on Instagram get the most views. People like to be taught something. And there is the thrill of being shown a step by a professional dancer. They will like it, I promise you.’
‘They might be thrilled to see you, that’s true,’ I said. ‘In fact, chuck me your phone. I want you to introduce yourself, too.’
He shrugged, handing me his phone. ‘Sure.’
I took a few steps back, framing Gabriele so that the camera caught a glimpse of the stage and the auditorium behind. I thought some of the studio’s female clients might enjoy seeing exactly who I had been dancing with since they saw me last!
‘Just open the top button of your shirt for me?’ I suggested cheekily.
Gabriele laughed and did as he was told. ‘Just one button?’
‘Yes!’ I said, holding my hand out to stop him before he got carried away. ‘Action!’
He looked at the camera, making sure his smouldering good looks translated onto the screen. My clients would be watching this on their phones or laptops back in Castlebury, so he needed to go big. And he definitely did.
‘I am Gabriele Riccitelli,’ he said, as though he was talking to a group of fans live in the room. He was so natural, I wondered whether he’d had professional training. ‘Today,I will be performing in the showSlow Burnwith your very own teacher, Lira James, as my partner for four spectacular duets. We do the rumba, a classic American smooth, a fun and energetic salsa and a very intense Argentine tango together. The Argentine tango is a favourite of both Lira’s and mine, perhaps because I was taught how to dance by my grandmother, who is from Buenos Aires. I learned the heart of the dance from the very best – the locals who dance it daily on the street. And today, we will teach you a very short routine to do at home. When we return to England, Lira and I would love to see what you have all come up with.’
He gave the camera – my clients – a dazzling smile and I stopped the recording.
‘Wow,’ I said, blown away. ‘You’re going to have them eating out of your hand. I’m pretty sure they won’t be leaving now. Did you mean it?’
‘Mean what?’ he asked, clearly pleased with himself as he walked towards me, grabbing me around the waist.
For a second, I was self-conscious, worried that another cast member might arrive early and see us. But then I thought: so what if they did? We weren’t doing anything wrong, and even though I’d tried to convince myself that getting involved with Gabriele would be unprofessional, the reality was it happened all the time on tour. Luca had said the same thing. People got close. People hooked up. And part of the reason for telling myself that it would be frowned upon by the rest of the company was that it gave mean extra layer of defence, another reason not to go there. And the more reasons I had, the more likely I would be to stick to the vow I’d made to myself:do not fall for Gabriele all over again.Last night had been perfect, and it seemed as though Gabriele felt the same, but then there was his track record. He’d clearly hurt Daniella in the past – was I setting myself up to be left heartbroken all over again, too? Even my mum had warned me off him. Was I crazy to get involved?
‘Did you mean it about coming to the studio to see my members dance? They’d love to see you in person; a bona fide TV star. One of the best Latin dancers in the world,’ I said.
‘They already have one of the best Latin dancers in the world as their teacher. They should be very happy already.’
I laughed. ‘I’m not sure they see me that way. You, on the other hand…’
He put the palms of his hands on the small of my back, pulling me closer. If I’d imagined my life a month ago, before any of this happened, I’d never in a million years have thought I’d be standing on a huge, opulent stage in Barcelona, under the switched-off lights, the smell of drapes and dust in the air, in the arms of the man I’d literally dreamed about for the last thirteen years.
‘I will come. Of course I will come,’ he whispered, stroking his thumb tenderly across my cheek.
‘Still up for recording a few steps of the Argentine tango?’ I asked, thinking it would be safer to get backto business before I declared undying love for him on the spot.
He nodded. ‘Let me set up the camera and we will begin.’
Because I’d arrived at the theatre so early, I’d finished my hair and make-up well in advance, leaving me time to find a quiet corner to upload the videos, along with a blog-style message to all the members on our database. I promised I’d give them regular check-ins from each city we were visiting, and asked them to let me know if they enjoyed learning the dance steps that Gabriele and I had demonstrated. I also promised to organize a gala evening when I returned, at which Gabriele would watch them perform the steps we had taught them. I had no idea how any of this was going to go down – I imagined they’d like it. My clients were generally fascinated byStrictly, and if they didn’t know who Gabriele was before, they would likely look him up, and the fact he’d been on the Italian version would be a huge pull. Plus, our events always went down well. Usually, my mum would swan in looking fabulous in something long and sparkling. Occasionally, Sedi came, but it wasn’t like she helped me serve drinks or anything, preferring instead to circle the room talking about her own exciting adventures to anyone who would listen.
I pressed ‘send’ on my members-only newsletter and posted an Instagram reel of Gabriele and I dancing, suggesting people come and join our James Jive family if they wanted to see more. I’d check in with Julie and the othersin a few days to see if anyone had mentioned it and, in the meantime, I’d try to think of other ways to keep our clients engaged while I was away.
When my phone rang, making me jump because it was still in my hand, I was surprised to see it was my mum. Strange; we’d only spoken the day before.
‘Hey, Mum,’ I said, my voice a little breathless. I tried not to let my mind wander to the worst-case scenario. Like was Dad okay? Wasshe?
‘Can you hear me, Lira?’ shrieked Mum, talking far louder than was necessary, probably because she was standing out on the ship’s deck or something. At least she sounded fairly upbeat. Dad mustn’t have fallen overboard or anything.
‘Loud and clear,’ I said, with emphasis on the ‘loud’. I leaned my back against the dressing-room mirror, relieved that nothing appeared to be wrong. ‘What’s up?’
‘There is a Spanish couple on board and they somehow managed to get hold of a copy ofEl Paíswhen we docked in Crete. There are pictures of you all over it!’ said Mum.
