Chapter 40

Forty

SARA

I should have listenedto Jen’s advice and taken it slow; allowed my muscles to heal, but I was stubborn, even when my body clamored for mercy. I took some ibuprofen, and a couple of hours later, I was able to walk around without wincing. After everyone had gone home for the night, I finally had the studio all to myself.

Fall after fall, I got up and pushed myself harder until I had no more to give. “Shit!” I ripped off my headphones and fiercely flung them across the room. Frustration took the best of me. I tried practicing without music. I concentrated on the counts. I shouted them one by one, hoping my body would somehow respond better.

Nothing.

It was simply another fall and countless bruises. I growled out my desperation, completely agitated and ready to cry when a familiar voice echoed through the studio. “You’re thinking too much,” the voice said in a thick Russian accent.

I pivoted toward the back of the room. “Alexei?”

There he was, leaning his lithe body against the doorframe. Dressed in his black button-down shirt and trousers, his coal-colored eyes scrutinized me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Your problem, Miss Hart, is your brain. You’re letting it do all the dancing.” He walked toward me, his movements smooth and fluidic; a snake dancing in trance.

I stared at him in disbelief.

Oh, God, how long has he been standing there?

He stalked closer. “I guess our little talk motivated you?” He eyed me greedily from head to toe.

I wiped sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. “So, that was you the other day, lurking in the shadows?”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked a slow circle around me in some type of authoritative manor. It forced me to rotate along with him. “I was intrigued,” he started. “You. Rehearsing in my studio after hours? You can imagine why I couldn’t walk away.”

“I didn’t invite an audience.”

He ignored my comment. “The first night was awful,” he uttered, shaking his head, a sardonic grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Your lines were hideous, your movement stiff, and the complete lack of coordination…” His eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“I didn’t ask for your critique, Alexei,” I retorted, embarrassed he had witnessed my shameful comeback.

Alexei. Out of all people.

I wanted to pick up my things and go hide under a rock somewhere. I couldn’t stand the prick, but I respected his talent and his professional opinion. I sucked. I knew it. But to hear it from the lips of that arrogant ass? I wanted to disappear.

It was a sucker punch to the chest. He was right, though. I was atrocious and probably an unfathomable idiot for even trying. As I turned to grab my things, he said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spied on you.”

I froze and peered up at him, unable to hide the disbelief blazoned across my face.

“I was curious,” he said.

I scoffed as I slid into my sweat suit and pulled the hood over my head. “Nothing much to see. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re wrong, Miss Hart ‘“

“Sara is fine.”

“Sara, I can help you.”

My brows fixed into an exaggerated pinch. “Excuse me?”

“I have your routine memorized. It’s simple, but has great potential. First, you need to stop letting your brain dictate your movement. Second, you need a partner.”

“Counting is how we learn steps.”

He threw his hands up in the air and blew out a strong breath. “Counting. Counting. You dancers can be infuriating. Yes, it’s important, but you need to dance from the heart before you can focus on choreographing a routine. You need to get your body used to movement. You need to let your body feel the music and let the muscles do the dancing, not your brain.”

“I haven’t danced in four years. I’m out of shape. You can’t expect me to jump back in the game like nothing happened.”

“I didn’t expect anything, Sara. I especially didn’t expect to find you here two nights ago. Let me help you. Technique can make you really good, but raw talent is what separates the good from the great.”

“Why do you care?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Perhaps it was my desire to dance again and to be good at it that had me second guessing my own intuition. Something told me it wouldn’t be a good idea. Alexei was a cold man. He could be hostile and toxic.

What could he possibly offer me?

I repeated the phrase in my head, trying to convince myself the decision I was about to make was a good one. I placed my gym bag back on the floor. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He cocked an eyebrow with amusement. “How about you let me show you what I can do for you right now?”

“Now?”

“You’re warmed up.”

“I…don’t know.” I was reluctant, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The fact that I was even considering this repulsed me. I hated this man. He was abusive. He’d practically coerced Estella into having sex with him, yet there I was, about to accept his proposition to dance with him. About to let him coach me. What was wrong with me?

“Sara, let me help you. Here.” He reached for my hand and brought me close to him. I didn’t resist. We stood face to face, our noses inches from touching. “Your routine needs the support of a partner. The lifts will complete the missing pieces; my strength will provide you with stability.” A shimmery sparkle rippled across the dark pools of his eyes. A partner would make things easier, and Alexei was offering me what I desperately needed.

A nervous string rode the length of my spine as I walked to the stereo system and hit play. Was I really that desperate that I was willing to forget everything this man had done all for the sake of getting a semblance of who I used to be back? I stripped off my sweat suit as the song that had been burning in my ears for the last couple of days now piped through the speakers in the studio. Swallowing hard, I convinced myself that I was doing this because I needed a stepping stone and if I was going to step on someone to get to the top, why not Alexei?

“I’ll give you what you need out of this routine, Sara. Let the song and the emotions behind it guide your movement. Let me handle the rest.”

Alexei guided me through every chord. He held me when I needed to reach beyond my means and lifted me up when I needed to soar. He added dimension to the piece, investing himself completely into the song, the lyrics, and emotion. I did not count a single step or thought about what came next. The music moved me and we were free.

I descended from a lift while Alexei held me up under the arms. I reached high above as I slowly slid down his chest. Our eyes met as I touched the floor. The piece ended with me in Alexei’s embrace. We were both slightly winded. Breathing deeply, our gazes stayed glued to each other. For a short moment, I didn’t see the stern-faced Russian who prowled our hallways with a heart of stone, but a man filled with vitality. His love for dance was every bit as infused with passion as was mine. We would never see eye to eye on everything, but this, dance, was our common ground. I smiled briefly, but before he could return the gesture, we were interrupted by the sound of hands clapping.

Startled, we both turned toward the sound.

Sitting on a folding chair, in the back of the studio, was a man bathed in darkness. He stood and walked out into the light, still clapping.

As soon as I recognized his face, my heart turned into a lead ball that free fell into the pit of my stomach.