Page 49 of Pas de Don't
“She’s hot.”
You have no idea, Marcus wanted to reply, but he said nothing. He reminded himself of the rules he and Heather had laid out barely an hour ago. He couldn’t tell his brother to back off without breaking Rule #1 and blowing the entire arrangement when it had barely begun. But he really needed Davo to back the hell off.
“I’m gonna ask her out,” Davo declared, not bothering to ask Marcus the obvious question. As if he couldn’t imagine Heather would be interested in his little brother. As if a ballet boy like Marcus couldn’t possibly pull a woman like her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Marcus kept his voice steady, but he squeezed his thigh, trying to quiet the anxiety that bubbled in his chest from the moment Davo laid eyes on Heather.
“Why not? She’s hot as shit. If that’s what ballet girls look like, maybe I should’ve come to more of your concerts.”
But you didn’t, did you?Marcus wanted to say.Because Mum and Dad had to drag you every year and you rolled your eyes the whole time.Besides, Davo had never had a problem getting women to date him. And he’d never understood—had never tried to understand—how demanding a ballet career was, even though Marcus spent every weeknight in the studio growing up, and every school holiday at all-day dance camp. He’d made it clear from Marcus’s very first concert that he thought ballet was pointless.
“She’s not a ‘ballet girl,’ okay, she’s...she’s one of the best dancers in the world.”Also, she’s mine.
“Ah, I get it,” Davo said, the sly tone returning. “I can’t ask her out because you’ve got a crush on her.”
“Piss off,” Marcus shot back, loud enough that the dad across the room threw him a disapproving look. He lowered his voice. “It’s not like that. My boss asked me to show her around town.”
“Well, I can do that. I’ll show her anything she wants to see.”
Marcus wanted to deck him. His heart was pounding, and gripping his thigh wasn’t helping anymore.Ask her, then,he wanted to say.See if she wants to go out with someone who has no respect for what she does for a living. Who doesn’t understand what a miracle her hot as shit body is.But when words tumbled out of his mouth, he said:
“She’s not gonna go out with you. She only dates dancers, the more famous the better. Was your face plastered on every ballet magazine and dance shop last season? No. It wasn’t. So if you wanted to pull ballet girls, maybe you should have taken dance classes with me after all.”
Marcus’s voice, hot and possessive, carried across the room to where Heather stood holding the tray of coffee cups in both hands.
She’d almost rounded the corner back into the waiting room when she’d heard his voice, a low rumble that carried under the cacophony of the waiting room. Davo had been needling Marcus about asking her out, what sounded like friendly brotherly teasing, and Marcus had denied that there was anything going on between them. Forcefully, sounding more annoyed than she’d ever heard him.
And suddenly, there’d been nothing friendly or brotherly in his voice.“She only dates dancers, the more famous the better.”
Heather’s breath caught in her throat, and she stood rooted to the scuffed linoleum floor. Her skin prickled with a discomfort she recognized but couldn’t name—then the back of her neck tightened at the memory of Jack slinging his heavy arm around her shoulders. Claiming her, speaking for her, taking credit for her success at NYB. Using her like a prop, like she was barely more human than the wooden lyre he danced with when he played Apollo. Suddenly her mouth was bitter with more than coffee as she remembered all thetimes she’d consented to it, the way she’d let herself be used even when a part of her knew better. All the little pieces of herself she’d given away in exchange for the sparkly fairy tale and the promise of stability.
She couldn’t believe she’d been foolish enough to think a secret fling with Marcus would be any different from a public relationship with Jack. The hurt was exactly the same. But this time she didn’t have to accept it, or explain it away, or pretend it was fine even when it wasn’t.
Pulling her shoulders down and raising her chin, she marched into the waiting room, where Marcus and Davo now sat in stony silence, their arms crossed over their chests, eyes on the floor.
Marcus looked up at her and gave her a weak, relieved-looking smile she didn’t return. She set the tray down on an empty seat and plucked her own cup out of it.
“Enjoy,” she said coldly.
“Thanks, what do I owe you?” Marcus sighed.
She stared down at him, willing herself not to cry before she could get out of there.
“Nothing. You owe me nothing, just like I owe you nothing.”
Marcus looked up at her, confused. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Tell your mom I hope she feels better soon.”
“You’re leaving?” He looked more concerned than confused now. “Where are you going?”
“To find a dancer to go out with. The more famous the better.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She turned sharply, splashing coffee over her shaking fingers, and walked out into the rain.
A few blocks away, Heather ducked under the awning of a newsagent and pulled out her phone, her hands shaking slightly. They were still shaking when the car arrived, and when she unlocked her front door thirty minutes later.
She’d asked the driver to turn up the radio, but the pulsing pop music hadn’t drowned out the memory of Marcus’s words. Hemight as well have told his brother she’d screwed her way into her job.“If it weren’t for me, no one would know who the fuck you are.”
