Forbidden Dance (Lovers Dance Book 1)

by Deanna Roy

  He turns to our side of the stage. “Giselle, Christy, Mariah, come on out!”

  The audience cheers as they walk onstage. When they are in their positions, the girl next to me leads me to where they previously stood. I take off the gold cloak and hand it to her.

  I don’t know what Blitz can see from the bright stage, but I am directly in his line of sight if he looks this way.

  The women all hold hands as Blitz picks up the bouquet of flowers.

  “What are your thoughts as you make this decision?” the announcer asks.

  That’s when I see it. Blitz’s expression changes. It’s hard. He’s ready to do what he has to do. Something crazy. Something horrible. Something to get him fired.

  And I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. My feet carry me out on the stage.

  Chapter 33

  Blitz takes a step back when he sees me. “Livia? What are you doing here?”

  I run up to him as the audience gasps and murmurs. My body moves, but my voice is definitely paralyzed.

  He sets down the flowers. Cameras shift around us. I can hear the three women talking to each other in hushed tones. Even the announcer seems unsure of what to do.

  I force air to come out, and then words. “I think you should dance with me right now,” I say.

  Blitz looks around, toward the finalists, then out at the audience, and finally back to me.

  And that’s when the music begins.

  Thank you, Devon.

  “Well, it looks like we have a surprise dance,” the announcer says. “Let me be the first to tell you that this is completely unplanned.” He turns to Blitz. “What is going on?”

  “I think we’re just going to go with it,” Blitz says.

  A woman in sparkling dress comes out and leads the three finalists off the stage. A man in black comes to move the podium with its flowers out of the way.

  The announcer steps off to one side, seeming unsure how to narrate what is happening.

  “Did you pick this song?” Blitz asks.

  “It’s a waltz,” I say. “It’s what we do best.”

  He takes my hand. “I’m going to step on those toe shoes.”

  This makes me laugh. “You are just a damn amateur.”

  He pulls me in, grasping my hand. His smile is huge and genuine.

  The position is familiar and calms me. We begin the steps, one-two-three, easy and simple. When he turns me out in the first spin, people clap. I don’t know what the audience thinks, how simple this must look compared to the big productions they saw earlier. But my eyes are on Blitz, and he’s looking at me. I have to make that be what matters.

  Our steps get longer and more sweeping. We swing to the beat, and I feel my skirt flaring out. Then he turns me to face away from him, his hand on my thigh, and I remember this move and let him lift me onto his shoulder, just like that day in Studio 3.

  I roll over his back and cartwheel out. The crowd cheers, and we come back around to each other. He lifts me up again, this time rolling me in front of him like he’s done so many times before, his hand on my thigh to sweep me into a downward position. I remember to keep my arms and hands pretty.

  Another cheer.

  We’re doing it. Unscripted. Us.

  He lifts me back to standing and spins me in close, so our faces are right next to each other. We’re both breathing hard. We stay here a moment, hearing the shouts from the audience.

  He curls me out from him and lets go of my hand. He takes a few steps back and then, he does it, a grand jeté, just like I taught him. I throw my head back and laugh. “Perfect!” I tell him.

  He comes back to me and holds me by the waist. “Turn for me,” he says.

  I spin the way we did before, then move away from him into a whirl, my arms starting low and spinning higher and higher as the world becomes a blur.

  When I come out of it, Blitz is there, kneeling with one leg back. “Show me what you can do now,” he says.

  I know what he means, and I relevé into en pointe and take tiny mincing steps toward him. He grasps me around the waist and turns me in a lazy circle. When I’m facing him again, he looks up at me and says, “You are incredible.”

  “You told Bennett you were in love with me,” I tell him.

  “I did,” he says.

  “You didn’t tell me about the extra episodes.”

  His expression shifts. “No, I didn’t.”

  I sit on his bent knee. “You didn’t plan to do them, did you?”

  He shakes his head no. “Is that why you’re here?”

  I smile. “Somebody had to save Benjamin from Blitz Craven.”

  The crowd erupts at that and I realize microphones are picking up our words. Somebody in the audience shouts, “Kiss her!” and that’s all the encouragement Blitz needs.

  His lips land on mine, and I melt into him in our familiar way. My hands come to his hair, so lacquered and shiny that I almost laugh. But then his kiss gets deeper, more serious, and steals my breath.

  The room erupts. The announcer shouts, “Who IS this girl?” over the noise.

  Blitz turns me out and stands. “This is Livia!” he says. “And she’s my choice for my partner.” He turns to me. “In dance.” He twirls me out in a circle and then back into him. “And in life.”

  He kisses me again. And I don’t know anything else that happens because all I can see or feel is Blitz Craven.

  ~*´`*~

  We stay that way until the lights go down. A man shouts, “And we’re out.”

  The room goes wild.

  Audience members rush the stage. Whatever security is there can’t keep them back.

  We’re surrounded. Cameras zip overhead, recording the scene even though we’re off the air. I have a feeling my face is going to be everywhere tomorrow. I wonder if Mindy will see it. If my parents will.

  Blitz keeps his arm tight around me. “I’ve got you,” he says.

  Eventually four burly security guards muscle through the crowd and lead us offstage and back into the hall. Juliet and Bennett are there, excited and happy.

  “Was this your doing?” Blitz asks Bennett.

  Bennett holds his hands in the air. “I just bought the jet fuel,” he says.

  Juliet embraces me. “You looked beautiful up there. It was perfect.”

  “Not too amateur?” I ask.

  “It was just fine,” she assures me. “Let’s get out of here before the place is mobbed any worse than it is.”

  The four of us hurry down the hall. But when we turn the corner, there they are.

  The finalists.

  All three.

  Giselle lunges at Blitz. “What the hell was that? One more humiliation for the road?”

  Christy is crying. “I thought you were going to pick me!” she says.

  Mariah has her arms crossed. “I was told that you had chosen me. My dress was the one that matched the final dance set!”

  Giselle and Christy turn to Mariah in disbelief.

  “Really!” Mariah says. Then she spins and walks away.

  Blitz seems like he wants to say something, but I think it’s best he doesn’t.

  “I’m sure you will all have wonderful careers,” I say and pull on Blitz’s hand to move us away.

  “I can’t believe you fell for a two-bit amateur ballerina!” Giselle says. “I always knew you were a loser!”

  “Okay,” Bennett says. “That’s enough playground trash talk.” He waves at the security guards to move the girls away.

  Soon we’re out of the building and into Bennett’s Mercedes.

  Juliet, Blitz, and I squeeze into the back.

  Juliet sighs. “This is about the craziest night I’ve had in a long time.”

  Blitz holds on to my hand and kisses my fingers. “You came for me.”

  “Of course I did,” I say.

  “I didn’t deserve it.”

  “Of course you did.” I press his hand to my cheek. “I saw a prince who needed to be
rescued.”

  The lights of the studio flash by as we make our escape. Behind us, we leave it all behind. The crowd, the show, Blitz’s old life.

  Now it will simply be us.

  Epilogue

  Blitz and I stand in the wings of the recital stage as the girls wheel out into the light. As soon as they appear, the audience claps for them.

  Janel hurries down the steps so she can cue them from the floor. I hold Blitz’s hand as the sound tech starts the music.

  Gabriella is near the end, and my eyes are on her as the girls go through their Nutcracker dance. It’s definitely not flawless, as Daisy in particular gets stage fright and forgets half her turns.

  But it’s adorable and emotional, and I wipe tears from my eyes as they finish the song and take their bows.

  “We’ll get them in tip-top shape for the spring recital,” Blitz says. “Now that they have a performance under their belt, they’ll be old pros.”

  We step aside as the girls wheel off the stage. Blitz gives each of them a high five.

  “I still think Gabriella is the spitting image of you,” Blitz says. “She must have taken after her father, because she looks nothing like Gwen.”

  I hesitate, thinking it is time to tell him, but we’re so close to all the others. I can’t do it here. They might overhear.

  We follow the girls through the path made through the storage room since there isn’t a ramp down from the stage. We let them get ahead, walking slowly through one of our favorite spaces. As we pass the racks, Blitz picks up the top hat from our first time together and places it on his head.

  “You haven’t changed one bit,” I tell him, and bump it so it tilts sideways.

  He gathers me in his arms and kisses me thoroughly. I giggle and take his hat, placing it on my own head, then back on the rack.

  We wander down the studio hall. Each room is a staging area for the classes, and the whole place is crazy with excitement and nervousness. Blitz threads his fingers through mine as we skirt around kids getting their costumes straightened or lipstick applied.

  Jacob sees us and nods, trying to tighten a hat string beneath the chin of one of his jazz students.

  The foyer is quiet. I’ve already done my performance, so we don’t have to stay. Still, we linger by the front desk, looking over the programs laid there for the latecomers.

  “I’m sorry your parents didn’t come,” Blitz says.

  I shrug. “I didn’t expect them to.” When we got back from LA last week, I went by my house. My father refused to open the door.

  Mom came out the back and walked around. She hugged me and told me to give him some time. She asked if I was already pregnant.

  I said no.

  Blitz got out of his car and stood next to it, waiting to see if I wanted him to come forward.

  My mom asked, “Is that him?” and I told her it was.

  “He must have money,” she said, and then she went inside the house.

  I waited a little longer to see if they would come out again, but they didn’t. The curtain moved, and I saw Andy wave at me. I blew him a kiss.

  I would give them time, like she asked. Hopefully one day they would come around.

  Some of the girls from our class wheel out and head across the foyer to go watch the other recitals. After a minute, Gwen appears with Gabriella. I lean down to give her a hug. “You did great,” I say.

  They go out the front doors and I stare wistfully at them as Gabriella zooms down the outside ramp. How I wish things were different.

  When the foyer is quiet again, Blitz puts his arm around me. “So, how do you know her? I mean, you set the class up just so she could come.”

  I glance around. There’s no one near.

  I close my eyes and gather my courage.

  “Blitz, she’s my daughter. I had her when I was fifteen, and my parents made me give her up for adoption. She doesn’t know I’m her mother.”

  Blitz pulls me close to him and presses my head to his chest. He smells like expensive clothes and aftershave. I want to get lost in the smell, forget what I’ve just told him. It’s unbearable, waiting for him to say something.

  “Do you want to get her back?” he asks quietly. “I can call my lawyer.”

  I pull away to look him in the eye. “No,” I say. “Gwen is a wonderful mother. I would never do that to her.”

  He nods. “Okay. Then I see we’ll really have to stay in San Antonio.” He puts his arm around me, and we head for the doors. “Gwen could probably use some help. Let’s see if she’ll let us have some private lessons with her very beautiful, very talented daughter.”

  My eyes smart from tears as we head out into the chilly evening and walk to his red Ferrari. This man gets me. All the way.

  “Let’s do that,” I tell him. “I’ll bring it up to her next week.”

  “Until then,” he says, “let’s go back to the hotel. There has got to be some part of you I haven’t yet memorized.”

  I laugh, and he lifts me up to cradle against his chest.

  I kick my legs, the pale purple tights of my recital costume a blur as I try to escape.

  “Don’t even try it, my princess, my sugar plum fairy, my love,” he says. “Because now that I’ve got you, there is no way I’m ever letting you go.”

  He sets me down in the parking lot of my favorite place, the Dreamcatcher Dance Academy. I glance back at it as he opens the door. My life changed at this place. And it’s only going to get better from here.

  ~*´`*~

  I hope you enjoyed Forbidden Dance! It is intended to be a standalone, but if you would like to follow Blitz and Livia for more of their story, there will be five full-length standalone books as they face the challenges of their life together. Get book 2 on Amazon!

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  Sneak peek

  Enjoy an early scene from Wounded Dance, book 2 of Blitz and Livia’s story

  Blitz takes my hand as I stand up from putting on my shoes. We head down the hall of Dreamcatcher Dance Academy, which is filling with moms and little girls for their classes. There’s more kids here today with school out, siblings of the tiny ones who usually attend alone. The mothers seem more harried than usual.

  We cross the foyer, waving at Suze, who sits at the front desk. A few moms stop talking to point at Blitz. He smiles and is friendly, but doesn’t pause, his hand on my back as we head for the doors.

  I’m on the steps when my brain stutters. My attention fixes on a man on the sidewalk, looking up, his cheeks ruddy from the cold as if he’s stood there a while.

  My body gets some message from my brain before I can comprehend exactly what is happening, why I’m feeling a threat. My feet are rooted to the concrete, my chest buzzing with alarm.

  Blitz stops with me. “You okay, Livia?” he asks.

  His words are what bring the moment into focus. This man in front of me wears a black leather jacket, his layered brown hair flying in the wind.

  It’s him.

  God.

  It’s him.

  Denham Young.

  Kicked out of my life when I was fifteen. Gone for good. Lost to me.

  My great love. My shame.

  Gabriella’s father.

  He’s found me.

  _____

  Get book 2 on Amazon!

  Bonus chapter by Blitz

  You’ve read the entire book from Livia’s point of view. Here’s a bonus scene where Blitz shows us how he’s feeling in a key moment of their relationship: the consummation in the hotel. Enjoy.

  ____________

  Damn, it’s cold outside tonight.

  I ease my foot off the accelerator, allowing the Ferrari to roll along the curb in front of the park where I met Livia last time. She’s told me she’ll get here as soon as she can.

  It’s late for this neighborhood. The houses are all dark, the occasional flash of a TV screen the only light
in any of the windows.

  Leaves circle in front of me like a mini-cyclone, and I see someone hurrying down the sidewalk, head down in the wind.

  It’s her.

  I inch forward, watching her huddle in on herself in the cold. Her hair streams behind her. When the Ferrari gets to her, I reach over to open the door from the inside.

  “Oh, Princess, it’s way too cold for royalty to be out in this weather,” I say.

  Her teeth chatter. “I’m fine,” she says.

  I’m surprised she can talk, she’s shivering so hard. I crank the heater. Her bare legs have to be freezing in that skirt. I swear I’m going to buy her an entire wardrobe when I get the chance. I don’t know what the hell her parents have done to her, but she’s obviously been through enough.

  I ask her if it’s okay if we go to my hotel. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to lure her somewhere. Even after the movie theater, she seems so innocent. I don’t want to push her too fast. I sense somebody did that already.

  But she says, “That sounds perfect.” And from the tone of her voice, I believe her.

  The fog is crazy. She asks me about my parents, and the tough times after my stupid Tweet went viral. I give her the basics, only half paying attention to my own voice, focused on getting her warm.

  Then she says something about her bra size, and my brain fires off an alarm. Just like that, I’m back to her body, her innocence. I think she just needs an escape.

  “Princess,” I say. “You’re tempting me sorely, and my intentions are strictly honorable tonight.”

  She gets quiet after that, and it’s like I figured. She’s scared. I don’t want her scared. I want her to feel safe with me.

  We get to the hotel and head up to the suite while I try to figure out how to keep her feeling comfortable, not like a she’s been lured into a trap.

  Livia’s adorably naive about the secure floors and how the elevators work. I step back while she plays with the screen inside, even though just the sight of her so close to my private room makes my blood beat.