His Love

My heart began pumping. Oh my god, he was here to watch us especially? Me, Megan, Tracey and Carrie? Oh my god, oh my god, I had to do well. I absolutely had to make a good impression in front of the boss.

And at that very moment, Miss Lane clapped her hands.

“Girls, girls! Since Mr. Lyons is here to observe, let’s not keep him waiting alright? Let’s bring our newest dancers out to perform. Come on ladies!”

Heart pumping furiously, I stepped towards the center of the studio along with Megan and the others. Oh god, we were going to be dancing in front of everyone: prima ballerinas, senior staff, and most of all, him. This dark man had me so pumped, excited and trembling inside that I could barely focus. I took my place next to the others, us four girls in a line. My heart beat crazily, almost bursting from my chest.

And then the music began to play. Like all dancers, I can feel sounds in my bones, the music does something to me that’s hard to describe. It lifts me, it soothes me, and it brings me to life in a way that’s electric and yet gentle at once. As the strains of the piano began, I let it take me away.

My knees bent in a soft plié, arms raised over my head in a graceful arch. The girls next to me were doing the exact same steps, but they melted into a haze as I threw myself into the routine. Slowly, my arms came down and then I burst into a series of pirouettes, each one faster than the last, head whipping around once, twice, and then three times, always fixed on the same point across the room.

As my feet stepped and scissored, a certain person added even more vibrancy to my dance. It was Luke Lyons. Those penetrating blue eyes traveled over in every inch of my body, from my curved toes to the tips of my fingers. They scalded my soul, missing nothing, and made me reach for the heavens, and then past the heavens and to the stars themselves.

Because the alpha’s a true master. Luke knows dance better than most professionals; the billionaire’s never left the art behind even though he wears a suit most days now. His gaze ravished me, urging me higher and higher, our souls touching as I danced, prancing and pirouetting, each gesture, each move meant just for him. It was as if there were only two of us in the studio, all else melting into a haze of nothingness.

And suddenly, it was over. The music stopped with one last chord, and we four girls stood once more in a line, our feet poised in first position, breasts heaving with exertion. Applause burst out.

“Bravo! Bravo!” came the cheer of the crowd. “Well done!”

I blushed prettily, bowing my head. Oh god, had that really just happened? Had I completely lost my mind, dancing for the eyes of Luke Lyons? Had I thrown myself into the music, imbuing each movement with my heart and soul while wearing my emotions on my sleeve? Oh god, I’d probably humiliated myself in some unknown way.

Because after the applause died, I snapped out of my dream state, and the world was oddly normal. People stood in small groups chatting and laughing, while a couple dancers warmed up at the barre.

And as for Mr. Lyons, it was like he didn’t even know me. When I raised my head to steal a glance, he was turned in profile, chatting with one of the prima ballerinas, smiling at something she said. Had it been my imagination? Had the electric shocks running between us been pure illusion, nothing but a teen girl’s dreams?

Unfortunately, probably so because Luke didn’t bother to come over and talk. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge any of the junior troupe who’d just put on a show. He merely chatted with the senior dancers, touching base with Miss Lane before moving to the door, that big body massive and imposing. Oh god. My heart dropped to the floor. I really was a nobody. I thought there was a connection, but clearly that was nonsense.

Why would there be something? the voice in my head scolded. You’re an eighteen year-old newbie. You think he’s never seen one of you before? Get real. Girls come to NYC every year with hopes of making it big. You’re nothing special, Kitty.

I swallowed heavily, hanging my head. That was true – it wasn’t like I was a superstar or anything. I just happened to be the star of the day. Forget that. I was one of the stars of the day because there were four of us dancing in sync, and I’d been part of the group. So yeah, it had all been my imagination.