Page 78 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“Well, we can’t all be reckless like you,” Dante interjected in a sharp voice.

I stood up and folded my arms, not appreciating his tone. “We’re not talking about me here.” I took a deep calming breath before continuing. “Talk to her. Tell her you’re not ready to co-habit, I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing you constantly searching for ways to avoid further commitment with her. It seems to me that you’re not sure whether she’s the one you truly want.”

Dante suddenly folded his arms, mirroring my stance while his brown eyes narrowed. “So you’re an expert on relationships now that you’re married? You? Miss-marry-the-first-man-she’s-ever-slept-with?”

My eyebrows lowered at his taunt and we shared a heated glare. Then Dante’s mouth curled up at one corner.

“It’s still bugging me, sorry,” he admitted with an apologetic look. “And you’re right. Damn it, but you’re right.”

I left my post behind the desk and went over to hug him. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Like you are?” Dante asked quietly, pulling back to observe my face with a sharp intensity that searched for truth. “Are you, Madi? Really happy?”

I nodded quickly. “Yup. Like a pig in shit.”

Dante roared with laughter before squeezing the air out of my body. “God. You sure know how to make me laugh.” He released me and fingered his braids. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good,” I replied supportively. “But, and this is a big but, if you need me as a scapegoat I’ll do it.”

“My main girl.” he muttered, fist up.

I bumped his fist with my own. “Ride or die.”

Dante’s gaze wandered around our extremely cluttered office before settling back on me. “If he ever hurts you, Madi-”

“He won’t.” I assured Dante quickly.

“Yeah, well, if he does…I’ll do the time. They don’t have the death penalty over here-”

“Shut up, Dante.” I said, all warm and fuzzy inside. Was it wrong to feel that way over my best friend threatening death to my husband if he ever hurt me? Huh. I was crazy.

“On another topic,” Dante walked around the table, took my seat and laced his fingers above his chest. “I spoke to the Royal Ballet yesterday.”

My heart-rate sped up. “And?”

Dante started fiddling on the computer, deliberately drawing it out and knowing it was messing with me.

“Dante,”

He chuckled then tossed a pen at me which I dodged. Idiot.

“We’ve got a tentative date. Mid to end of August depending on their scheduled shows.”

“Yes!” I pumped my fist in the air before doing the funky chicken dance.

“Don’t get too excited,” he warned. “It’s not certain and you have to remember they already had their current season mapped out since last year.”

I was still doing the funky chicken. This was great. It was happening. Our dream of performing at the Royal Opera House was tentatively on the cards.

“Crazy ass,” Dante mumbled, grinning to himself. Then he put a downer on my mood by saying, “Make sure you print out Paula’sabsence history before your meeting with her and I want you to document everything you discuss. The last thing we want is for her to claim it was an unfair dismissal.”

“Can’t you do it, Dante?” I wheedled while using my best puppy dog eyes.

“Nope,” he said without an ounce of regret. “You need to do this, it builds character, plus you’re the boss. Oh, Kincaid called a few times, he wants to meet for dinner on Thursday. I think he’s a bit upset.”

“What?” I chewed my lower lip furiously. “Why?”

Dante shrugged, eyes trained on the computer screen. “He mentioned something about the funding, I guess he got the impression we don’t need him as much after the last show.”

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