AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Xavier stared at me like I’d asked him to fly to the moon. “Are you joking? It’s only nine.” He tapped his phone. “The night’s barely started.”
I hated how he always made me feel like a buzzkill, but a girl had to draw the line somewhere. “I have no desire to get wasted.” “Who said anything about getting wasted?” He stood and extended a hand to me. “Come on. It’s time for your dance lessons.”
I crossed my arms. “Absolutely not.” That was even worse than getting wasted.
“So you enjoy looking like a malfunctioning robot every time you dance?”
“I don’t…”Breathe. I counted to three and tried again. “I rarely dance. Therefore, I don’t need lessons.”
“You go out with your friends all the time, so that’s not true… unless you’re afraid of failing.” Xavier dropped his hand and shrugged. “I understand. No one succeeds at everything.”
That fucker.He was good.
He was also clearly baiting me, but the competitiveness that’d fueled my rise in the cutthroat PR world bristled at his taunt. Once it was triggered, there was no going back.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” I stood, ignoring memories of Madame Olga’s pinched disapproval and Xavier’s present-day shit-eating grin. “But I’ll allow it just so I can wipe that smug look off your face. Let’s go.”
Who was to say I hadn’t developed a talent for movement overnight?
Xavier was laughing now, but I was going to make him eat his words.
CHAPTER8
Sloane
“Itake back what I said about the malfunctioning robot,” Xavier said. “I don’t want to insult robots.”
I dropped my arms and glared at him. “If I had a better teacher, I’d bedoingbetter.”
We were on the villa’s terrace, where heated lamps warded off the late-night chill and portable speakers played a medley of local and international music. Xavier had insisted the outdoors would help me “relax,” but so far, I was embarrassed, frustrated, and no closer to improving my dance skills than when we started my lessons an hour earlier.
“You have to loosen up.” Xavier brushed off my indictment of his teaching abilities. “Dancing is about movement. You can’t move properly if you’re imitating a petrified piece of wood.”
“I’m loosened up.” A defensive note crept into my voice. “Also, might I remind you I could be sleeping right now instead of enduring your insults?”
I should walk away because there was nothing worse than trying my best and failing, but the competitor in me refused to give up.
I was Sloane Kensington. I didn’t fail, and I didn’t quit. (The only reason I’d stopped my childhood ballet lessons was because I outgrew my age group. Also, I was pretty sure I’d given Madame Olga an ulcer when she retired).
“Yet you’re here.” Xavier placed his hands on my hips.
I stiffened, every muscle turning rigid at the warmth seeping through my dress.
“See what I mean about petrified wood?” He shook his head. “Pretend you’re back at the spa. You’re getting a massage, your muscles are loose…now move your hips like this. No, the other way.” His touch seared my skin and distracted me from his instructions. He probably had a fever from walking around shirtless all the time. He should really get that checked out. “Move them in a circle, Luna, not a square.”
“Itisa circle.”
“No offense, but you might need to brush up on your geometry.” Xavier’s grip tightened, stilling my movements. “What are you thinking about?”
“Moving my hips in a circle.”
“That’s your problem,” he said. “You shouldn’t be thinking about that.”
“You just said—”
“You have tofeelthe movement. The more you think, the less natural it looks.”
My teeth ground together in frustration. “I’m sorry, but I like thinking. It’s something I try to do on a daily basis.”
