Page 183 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“Yeah,” Dante looked pleased at the suggestion. “That could work.”

The three of us shared weary grins. Modern dance was challenging for a classically trained ballet dancer, but so freeing from the rigid realms of ballet. It was an emotion driven genre of dance with many variations that showed the more ‘human’ side. I enjoyed it immensely, even though I found it much harder than my first love of classical ballet.

“Alright then,” Francois became all business-like. He stalked off towards Olivia and I spotted her immediate scowl before she smiled politely and hurried towards him. When we called quits for the day I would have a quiet word with Francois, tell him to ease up on the crew.

“Madi,” Gloria stood in front the stage a few hours later, fingers drumming impatiently across the wood. I hadn’t even noticed her entering the auditorium. Understandable since I was currently flaton my back with four dancers hovering over me.

“What’s up?”

“Amy just called in,” Gloria explained and my body instinctively stiffened, already suspecting what was coming next. Amy had sounded as if she was coughing up a lung two days ago.

“Uh huh?” I pushed the others back and sat up as they moved away.

“She’s too sick to come in later.” Gloria gave me the ‘look’. The ‘you’re going to have to force one of the other instructors to take the class or do it yourself’ look. I hated that look.

“Was it an intermediate class she had?” I asked reluctantly.

Gloria gave me a quick nod. “From 4:30 to 6:00, and then an hour long intensive pointe class from 7:00 for the students prepping their exams.”

“Who’s handling the virtuosity class for the boys?” Dante left his position at the back of the stage. He too wore a frustrated expression.

“Richard is, but the timings, Dante,” Gloria frowned. “The virtuosity class is from 5:00 to 6:30, he can’t take Amy’s intermediate group and there’s still the intensive pointe class to sort out. Jiao is off this week so she can’t pick up the slack.”

“It’s fine.” I mentally reminded myself to maintain a calm, professional air. Dropping an additional class on another instructor was a no-no, plus this week’s scheduling was tight. A ‘no-room-for-change’ tight. Damn it. Why had I agreed to Jiao having this week off? She was a relatively new instructor and should be working her ass off. “I’ll run Amy’s class.”

“We need you on stage.” Dante’s pointed reminder was unnecessary. Iknewhe needed me on stage. The same way Iknewwe had no other choice.

“I could run the class if you wanted.” Bri offered while sauntering up to Dante’s side. “It’s a one-off, right? Lisa can fill my spot while one of the temps fills hers. I’ll do it if you want.”

I tried to hide my surprise, especially when I caught a weird kind of look between her and Dante. My corp rarely filled in for my instructors. That would be unfair. That look though…what the? Why did Bri give him that look?

“It’s fine.” I smiled to show my appreciation at her offer. “I’ll run the class,” My gaze went to Dante’s brown face. “You can rehearsethe beginning without me. It needs serious work.”

Gloria nodded in my direction, her features quickly morphed from expectancy to satisfaction that the problem had been averted. The majority of our students feared me, if only they knew Gloria was the one who made sure the wheels spun.

“And you’ve got some important messages waiting for you in your office,” she added before turning on her heels. “Either you or Dante should get to them as soon as, Madi.”

My best friend exchanged a telling glance with me. We were fully aware Gloria’s ‘as soon as’ was a polite way of saying: do that shit now.

“Quick break?” Dante mumbled, trying to save face. My head jerked in agreement while I subtly waved a finger from my chest to the doorway Gloria was striding through as she left the auditorium.

Dante nodded in relief, offering a hand. Rising to my feet tore a muffled grunt from me and he raised an eyebrow at the grimace on my face.

“You feeling it today?” he asked with growing sympathy and understanding seeping through his expression.

“Yeah. I’ll try not to be too long.” Stretching my aching limbs, a tired sound escaped my lips. I forced a quick smile then hurried off the stage to deal with whatever issue had cropped up and was awaiting me in the office.

My pledge to be quick was broken. I spent about half-an-hour on the phone, mainly in a queue, then another 20 minutes staring in horror at my online bank account. Not the business account or my personal current accounts, but the mortgage account for my business premises. The brief, but informative, conversation I’d had with the advisor had stolen whatever goodness left in my soul as I realized the true foulness of human nature.

Some say everyone is susceptible to committing a crime of passion, but other schools of thought believed a ‘crime of passion’ was a misconception. That the perpetrator’s mind had already been conditioned to the violent act, perhaps from a period of lazy Sunday afternoons where the fantasy of killing the unsuspecting victim with a dull pencil was the only thing helping the person through the day. Perhaps the intended victim had waged a verbal war of insults over a period of years, perhaps they had unknowingly created the situation that led to their demise. All I knew as I stared at the figures on thecomputer screen, was the simple fact my estranged husband was on borrowed time. Dead man walking. It was a cliché, mentioning the thin line between love and hate, but there was a line, and Matthew Bradley had crossed it. I had every intention of killing him today. This dastardly act of his, this spiteful,evilcourse he had started down, well, it would mark the end. His end. I was going toendhim.

With a brittle calm that belied the seething rage building inside me, I printed out the screen, stuffed the paper in my bag then locked the computer and exited the office. It didn’t take long for me to swap into my street clothes in the changing rooms. Making sure my winter coat was buttoned up snug, I returned to the office and grabbed my bag and keys.

“Madi?” Dante spotted me as I strode down the hallway. He must have gotten tired waiting for me to reappear in the auditorium. “Where are you going?”

I thought about saying:to kill Matt, but that could possibly place Dante in a sticky position if he was forced to testify in court when I faced murder charges. The prosecutors might use his testimony to prove premeditation. So I smiled and waved a hand through the air without slowing my steps.

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