‘I am always nice,’ I growled at Carlos, keeping my voice low.
Although I knew that was not strictly true.
I stalked into the middle of the dance floor, checking myself out in the mirror one more time. I looked good, and I was going to dance good, too. Whoever was about to come through those doors was about to be flung around the dance floor like they never had before.
The doors opened and in walked the first girl – I remembered her from a show in Italy and already knew that she was not the one, but I smiled at her anyway and pretended I was excited to dance with her again after so long. I was not, but I knew how to fake enthusiasm. Turning on the charm when needed was like second nature to me. Actually feeling it? That was another matter.
The ninth girl through the door was Daniella. I knew she was not right for the job either, but given my lack of enthusiasm for the other eight girls I had danced with over the last hour or so, she might very well have to be. The thing was, our relationship was complicated – we had been dance partners then lovers, we had not spoken for years, and now we were kind of friends. Our relationship was all over the place. Plus, I had the feeling she wanted more from me than I would ever be able to give her. She was hot, I had to admit that – a tall, willowy blonde with a great work ethic and a dirty sense of humour. But we did not connect on a deeper level, and I knew our relationship would never progress outside of the bedroom. In some ways that was ideal – who wanted the inconvenience of actually having feelings for someone?! And she was a great dancer – but she did not rock my world. And unless somebody rocked my world, there was always this emotional distance that I could not get past, great sex or no great sex.
Daniella strutted into the studio, as full of sass and confidence as ever.
‘Long time no see,’ she purred, strutting over to join me on the dance floor.
I nodded a greeting, my eyes sweeping over her body – she was wearing black leggings, a cropped black top and heeled Latin shoes. Her blonde hair was hanging loose down to her shoulder blades, and she had pulled it back off her face at the front with a cute little clip.
As we prepared to start the routine, she whispered in my ear.
‘You’re looking well, Gabriele.’
I ignored her comment, instead placing my hand on the small of her back, a gesture that was familiar to me after years of dancing together, and more. We should be focusing on the routine and only the routine.
‘Fancy a drink at mine after?’ she asked, keeping her voice low enough that Carlos and the rest of the team could not hear.
‘Let us just dance,’ I replied tersely as Emily restarted the track.
‘Five, six, seven, eight!’ yelled Carlos.
I began to move, my body complying perfectly with what my mind was telling it to do, letting the infectious music transport me to a hot, humid basement bar in Buenos Aires, the sort of place I had been to many times before. Daniella was good. It might even be the best I had seen her dance. And perhaps it would not be so bad if she got a place on the tour – she was talented, and fun. It could definitely be worse. But was the team of men in suits – Carlos excluded, obviously – sitting behind that table really telling me thatthiswas the best we could do? Did they not want a sell-out show every night, with standing ovations and five-star reviews? Because I could guarantee that we were not going to get any of those things with Daniella as the female lead.
Afterwards, she exchanged a few words with Carlos and gave him her availability for the next couple of weeks, which he wrote down – without catching my eye, I noticed. He wasno doubt thinking the same thing I was, but perhaps was a little more resigned to the fact that it was looking likely she would be cast. As she left the studio and opened the door, she blew me a kiss.
‘Come round whenever you’re ready. You know where I am,’ she purred.
Shaking my head dismissively, because I had more pressing things on my mind, I turned back to Carlos for some reassurance that this was all going to be fine; that if Daniella was the one, we were going to make it work, somehow. Annoyingly, though, he seemed distracted and was not looking at me at all, his attention instead drawn to a point over my shoulder.
‘Lira. Thank you for coming to meet with us,’ said Carlos, waving somebody in to the studio.
This must be the tenth dancer on the list – I wondered if she was a friend of a friend Carlos had agreed to see as a favour. She could not be that amazing if I had never heard of her, could she?
‘Gabriele, meet Lira James,’ said Carlos.
I sighed. I was pretty exhausted after a day of castings and, quite frankly, all I wanted to do was leave. Still, I could not be rude to this Lira James. It would only upset Carlos.
I swung around to greet the newcomer, but when we locked eyes she stopped dead in her tracks.
Meanwhile, I felt like every ounce of blood I possessed had left my body, so much so that I half expected to lookdown and see a murky puddle of it on the sprung wooden floor beneath.
I did not even try to speak, I knew it would be impossible.
It washer.Of all people! Lira, Carlos had said she was called, yet I had known her only asLi.
She had never told me her full name, nor her last. I would never have been able to find her, even if I had wanted to, and yet here she was, standing in front of me looking… utterly beautiful. Even more spectacular than she had that night in Paris all those years ago – thirteen years, to be precise.
My eyes were immediately drawn to the tantalizing strip of chestnut brown skin visible between the hem of her top and the waistband of her leggings, just one of the parts of her body I had run my hands over that night. I remembered marvelling at how soft and smooth she had felt before proceeding to peel off her dress so that I could feel even more of her.
I shook my head, dislodging the image from my mind, trying to stop my face burning up right in front of her. Sure, she mightlookgorgeous with that deliciously curvy body and those dark eyes you could lose yourself in if you were not careful, but getting too close to Lira James, as she was apparently called, was highly inadvisable. It would only end badly, as I knew all too well, and once this audition was over, I could avoid her again, for the rest of my life, preferably, and all would be well.
Except, I remembered how brilliantly she danced; of course I had never forgotten that. And I already knew that, given why we were here – her audition, our dance – she was about to become one very big problem for me.
