I’m used to dancing in a group setting, with people I know and trust—up to a point. I’m not used to a fixated audience of one who exhibits unexpected gallantry but looks a whisker away from going feral. “R-right now?”
“Why the hell not? Do you have somewhere else to be?”
The sudden edge of cruelty to his tone proves my point. I want to say yes, I have a dozen appointments. Dinner with friends and walks through the park followed by mindless shopping.
But we both know it’ll be a lie.
He’s been watching me for weeks. He knows my routine probably more thoroughly than I know it myself.
He’ll know I go from home to studio and back again most days. That my only indulgence is my coffee stop one block from home. That the only thing I have resembling a friend is the neighbor’s dog I stop to pet whenever I meet him outside our brownstone.
I snap back into focus when Jared’s hand curls over my neck to drag me close.
“Just in case you’re thinking up an excuse, you should realize that no isn’t an option,” he growls against my lips after stealing another hard kiss.
Anger bubbles up but, dammit, it dies far too quickly. Because he’s asking me to do the one thing I love most in the world. The one thing I’m good at despite what my father thinks. Despite the challenges that have stopped me turning my passion into my profession.
And hell, maybe doing this, pleasing him might make him more lenient toward my father when he eventually finds him.When, not if.
I may have only known him for a handful of hours, but instinct warns me that Jared Prince is nothing if not ruthless.
He’ll find Dad.
And I’ll go home.
I ignore the hollow sensation that grows in my belly at the thought and take a deep breath. Look around me. I reach for the shoes but he shakes his head.
“No. Let me.”
He drops to his knees in front of me and I gasp. This billionaire…thisgodis at my feet and the sight sweeps a fever of yearning through me.
One hand grips my ankle, and he eases one flat off, then the other. He slips the ballet shoes on and in his large hands the ribbon ties look so delicate. “Tell me if they’re too tight.”
He weaves them expertly and I’m reminded again that he’s been watching me.
This time, though, the thought doesn’t fill me with dread and panic. It’s…almost powerful. As if I holdsomeif not all the cards in this little game.
My breath catches all over again when his head rears up and he pins me with his gaze. “Thearabesqueand thepenché, how long can you hold them for?” he asks, his voice gruff.
I blink in surprise. “You know the ballet terms?”
He shrugs but a faint flare of color appears at the tops of his cheeks. I’ve caught him out.
This is the first time we both acknowledge that he’s crossed the line between watching me to discover my father’s whereabouts and taking a fixated interest inme.
“I’m thorough, little girl. You should know that about me sooner rather than later.”
His words conjure up far too decadent and wicked thoughts. Thoughts I have no business thinking about. Thoughts that make the butterflies in my belly take flight and make my nipples hurt again.
“Now, about the positions,” he presses.
I suck in a shaky breath. “Thearabesqueis easier to hold for longer than thepenché, but if I have support, I can hold them a couple of minutes, maybe more.”
His nostrils flare and he nods. “Make sure you incorporate them into your routine. I’ll be over there.” He points to the elegant chaise longue on the far side of the room. “I want you to hold one of those two poses each time you get to me.”
Heat flares into my cheeks, then takes control of my whole body. “I…what?”
“I didn’t stutter, little girl.” His hand flashes out and he smacks my bottom, making me gasp. “Now go and do as you’re told.”