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“Everything.” He holds his hands up in front of him, “I swear I won’t tell Con a word.”
“I have a limited amount of time that I’ll be able to dance professionally. The MS is already affecting my ability to memorize choreography. There are a few dancers who have been watching me like sharks in the water, waiting for me to fuck something up and lose my position. I can’t risk any of the dance companies finding out about my diagnosis before I get at least one run at being a principal dancer.” I stand up and walk to his window, looking down onto the dark, wet city. I just want one run being on stage, feeling the music move through my body.
“How long have you known?” he asks from behind me, close enough to feel the warmth from his body.
“I started noticing things were off last fall. Part of me was hoping it was just a trauma response from being kidnapped.” My eyes meet his in the reflection of the window. “I was officially diagnosed in February. So far it’s just neurological symptoms manifesting.”
“Who’s your doctor? What type of treatment plan are you on?”
I spin. “No.” I point up at him. “This is exactly what I don’t want. Why I don’t want to tell my family. They’ll all try taking over. I don’t want to be micromanaged.” I can tell by the look on his face that he’ll be researching MS as soon as I’m out the door.
“Okay, let’s just sit back down, and you can tell me the names and information of the other dancers, so the net I toss can be tighter.” He grabs a legal pad and pen from his desk and pulls out two chairs for us at the conference table in the corner of his office.
I go through the list of dancers who might be interested in exposing me. I know that by coming to Griff I’m not just asking for him to shield me. I’m also getting his protection, which will include quietly strategic attacks.
I stand to leave when we finish discussing details, but he grabs my hand, brushing his thumb back and forth over my knuckles. We look into each other’s eyes for a minute. I try to hide my vulnerability from him because no matter how much I trust his discretion, I don’t trust myself not to fall into him. His gaze is direct, and it feels like his gorgeous hazel eyes are already peeling back my layers with no words even spoken between us.
“Do you want to grab dinner?” he asks. “I was basically done for the night, and you must have come straight from rehearsal.”
A rare moment of indecision settles over me. I want to say yes, but I’m scared that he’ll see right through me. He’s too perceptive, and I’m already raw after a grueling day during which I made several obvious mistakes. A polite decline is about to leave my lips when his fingers link with mine.
“Let’s go. I’m not going to accept no to the invitation, plus I’m hungry.” He squeezes my hand once before letting go. “We don’t have to discuss this any further. We can catch up on the past four months.”
He leads me out of his office with his hand firmly on the small of my back, his fingers tracing circles over my leotard. I make sure to send the receptionist a look that is two parts icy glare and one part smug satisfaction. I can feel the anger and envy rolling off her while we wait for the elevator.
We get down to the lobby, and he hesitates when his eyes land on my car. I immediately know he’s concerned about Con finding out that we were having dinner together tonight. I share that concern, so I reassure him.
“Marco isn’t employed by us; he’s one of Lilith’s guys, and he only reports to her if she asks.” One of the many reasons I love my sister-in-law is that she understands how smothering Connor and my dad can be at times with their fiercely protective natures. “No one will know.”
