Page 20 of Forbidden Dance
Now I’m not. What does he mean by that? Does he not want me after all? Or does he think I’m propositioning him, that we’ll have sex back there?
I suck in a breath and a piece of hair sticks to my cheek. I push it away. “I — I just meant we could finish the tour. Unless you already got one.”
He hasn’t put on any music, but he heads toward me anyway. Now I remember why I panicked yesterday, why I ran. When Blitz Craven comes at you like a full-on wolf aiming for prey, it’s more than any woman can handle. I fight the urge to startle away again.
Within seconds, he’s crazy close, his lips near my ear. “Princess, I’ll follow you anywhere,” he says, his voice low.
My knees are wobbly. I can’t breathe. His face is so very near. I look at his lips. They are full, with a defined edge. The scruff of his unshaven jaw looks rough and sexy.
“There’s a recital hall. And the staging area.” My voice isn’t very confident now.
“Show me,” he says. “I want to see everything.” His tone tells me he isn’t talking about the academy. His fingers reach for a lock of my hair and he twists it around his thumb.
The door flies open. Danika storms in. “Benjamin Castillo, lay a hand on my dancer and I’ll throw your ass right out of this academy!”
I forgot. The windows.
Blitz sighs heavily and lifts me back to a standing position.
“I’m okay,” I tell her. “I was just learning some ballroom.”
“I’ll be happy to teach you some ballroom,” Danika says. Her voice could grate cheese. “Benjamin, I think you’re done for today.” She walks forward and pokes a finger against his chest. “Leave this one alone or you will rue the day you ever stepped foot in here.”
Blitz holds his hands up. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “Your school, your rules.” His eyes meet mine only for a moment. “I’ll be on my way.”
He gives us a little bow and exits the room.
Danika turns to me. “I think maybe Blitz shouldn’t work with your class on Tuesdays,” she says. “If your father found out, it would jeopardize your ability to study here.”
I’m ready to cry, or shout, or do something. I’m bubbling over with emotions that rush at me so fast I can’t even name them. “I know,” I say. “I know.”
She wraps her arm around me. “You’re special to us, Livia,” she says. “I’m not going to let some womanizer wrap his talons around you.”
The thing is, he already has.
Chapter 8
If Mom notices something different about me when I come home from the academy, she doesn’t say anything about it. She generally doesn’t question me unless she thinks we need to shore ourselves up for the third degree from Dad.
I help Andy with his science and administer the test so Mom can do laundry. That only occupies an hour, so I head to my room to do some practice SAT reading.
But the lines blur on the page. I’m so full of Blitz, and upset at Danika’s interference. I know she’s right. I know it. But I don’t want to give Blitz up. It’s the first time I’ve felt alive in four years, other than the moment when Gabriella arrived at Dreamcatcher Dance Academy.
And when I discovered where she was.
For a long time after the adoption, I had no idea what happened to her. I just knew one of the Catholic ministries had handled everything.
When I started volunteering at the church three years ago, I only got to do small tasks, such as resetting the hymnals and putting out the missalettes. I graduated to helping Irma open the offering envelopes and organizing the checks and cash. Then stuffing the mail-outs.
About two years ago, she let me into the locked cabinet where the church records were stored. There were many private files in there. Employment records for the priests and staff. Bundles of prayer requests. Tax documents.
I stumbled upon an adoption certificate. Then another. The file was small. Apparently the church had not been involved in many over the years. Until Gabriella, no baby born of a church member had been adopted through the larger umbrella organization since 1998.
But a copy of her birth certificate was there. And the contract sent by the agency, signed by me, my parents since I was a minor, and the new parents.
I had their names.
It took me months to find them. I didn’t know Mindy yet, had no Internet access, and only vague awareness of social media like Facebook and LinkedIn. I did things the old-fashioned way, digging old phone books out of recycling bins and calling “information” from the church phone.
