His Mistress by Blackmail

The door opened behind her and Ashley, a fellow dancer, entered. She looked on the verge of tears. ‘Heads up—Melissa has had a personality transplant overnight. And it’s not made her a better version of her original diabolical self,’ she snapped, then burst into tears.

Consoling the distraught girl momentarily put a lid on her own nerves and on the late-night conversation with Xandro that she couldn’t get out of her head. More than anything, she was grateful she didn’t have to dwell on her body’s reaction to Xandro’s proximity or the evocative images that her suddenly rampant imagination had conjured up when he’d spoken of lovers and liaisons.

After her single, disappointing foray into a relationship three years ago when she’d first arrived in Washington, DC, she’d swiftly concluded she was better off pursuing the thing she loved most to the exclusion of all else. Dating, casually or otherwise, had been placed on a back burner that hadn’t been lit since.

But last night, with a few words spoken in his deep, faintly accented voice, Xandro had sparked something inside her. Something unsettling enough to disrupt her sleep. Disturbing enough to have made her wonder, for a single insane moment, what it would’ve been like not to cut herself off so completely from any deeper interaction with the opposite sex. Perhaps even get involved with a man like Xandro?

No. Never him.

He was manipulative and controlling. And she’d gone to great lengths to distance herself from those who wanted to clip her wings. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Xandro was growing more impatient and ruthless the longer Ben remained elusive. The fact he hadn’t stopped at buying an interest in Hunter’s but had gone for a controlling interest spoke volumes about his need to control everything and everyone around him.

Even if there weren’t battle lines drawn between them, she’d sought this position at Hunter’s long before Xandro Christofides had come along. She’d woken up this morning determined to fight for what she wanted. If the final outcome was truly up to Melissa, then Sage wasn’t going to let Xandro drive her away. Nor did she intend to lose her focus for the sake of giving in to the extra curious butterflies running wild in her belly.

She’d barely managed to calm Ashley down before another dancer entered the room and signalled to her. ‘You’re up, Sage.’

A deep breath and a ‘break a leg’ from Michael, and she was entering the ballroom where the choreographers were waiting.

She noticed his absence immediately.

The tight knot gripping her belly unfurled. But only for a moment because Melissa’s narrowed eyes were trained on her, her mouth pinched in a displeased line. Whatever had put the ex-dancer in a filthy mood was still very much present. Sage was wondering whether the enigmatic Greek magnate had anything to do with it, and berating herself yet again for thinking about the man, when Melissa spoke sharply.

‘Miss Woods, I’m changing things up a little. This morning we’ll be testing your improvisation skills. Some routines have been lengthened, others have been shortened. Your seven minutes have been reduced to four and a half. Use that time wisely.’

Despite her nerves, Sage suppressed a smile. At least something was going her way. The churning inside her subsided as she flicked through her music selection, and set her MP4 player in the provided dock. A slow steady breath filled her lungs with not just oxygen but serenity.

Thoughts of Xandro receded.

Thoughts of her parents and their callous indifference to her bullying retreated to a small space at the back of her mind.

Even the faint ache in her wrist that she’d woken up with faded away as she immersed herself in the one place that she would give her heart and soul to for ever.

The strains of Vivaldi’s operetta filtered through the room, mercifully blanking her mind of everything else but the one thing that had made perfect sense to her the moment she’d stepped into Mrs Krasinky’s drama class in high school.

Her parents had accused her of being melodramatic when she’d told them dancing was the only reason she got out of bed in the morning. The alternative had been to give up and let her torturers win. She’d tried and lasted for a day. The ache of not dancing had driven her back to Mrs K’s class the next day. Before she was done with practice, she’d known it was her life and her lifeline.

Ben had supported that belief. Encouraged her to nurture her talent while placing himself as a solid wall between her and their parents’ escalating pressure. Even then, more than a few barbs had slipped through.

‘Dancers are born, not made. If you were any good you wouldn’t need to practise fourteen hours a day.’

‘One day, when this frivolous whim is over, you’ll regret that you didn’t honour your responsibilities to this family. Don’t expect us to welcome you back with open arms.’

Accepting that years of devoting her life to dancing was still seen as just a passing fancy had hurt like hell. Their actions when she’d needed them most had caused even more anguish because it’d forced her to make a painful decision. To walk away.

But she’d done so believing it was a better option than staying in Virginia to be consumed by bitterness.

At least when she was dancing the pain wasn’t so bad. And she even managed to forgive them a little bit more for not being there for her. For not believing in her.

A light sheen of sweat had coated her skin and she was fighting for breath by the time she’d finished, but the joy and freedom she found in her dancing was worth every second. As was the affirmation that she was doing the right thing, no matter what her parents thought.

‘Bravo, Sage. On the off-chance Melissa is crazy enough to let you go, remember my job offer still stands.’

‘Leonard, you really are testing my last nerve,’ Melissa snapped.

He waved her away and smiled at Sage. Although Sage smiled back, she cautioned herself not to count her chickens. She’d been down this road before, where half-baked promises were made and offers were hinted at, only to fall through in the end.

‘You may leave, Miss Woods.’

‘And we promise not to keep you in suspense for much longer,’ the English choreographer said, earning himself a dark look from Melissa.