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Daniil well remembered the toxic atmosphere of home—his mother’s frequent tears and his father berating him for not living up to their son’s ghost. He believed to this day what George had said—that the house, until he had arrived, had been a happy one, that it had been he who had caused all the pain.
He took out his anger on the punch bag till he was physically exhausted but with his mind still racing. He could not stand the thought of dimming the light in the star that Libby was.
He drove to work and took a slight detour. Slowing down, he saw a large pink poster and discovered that between four and seven she was holding an information evening.
Tonight.
Fortunately he had a very important dinner meeting tonight because still, despite a workout, despite the knot of dread at going to his parents’ at the weekend, there was the temptation to make contact.
Getting too close to anyone was something he avoided at all costs and yet Libby had simply stepped over the walls he had put up. Direct as she was, he never felt invaded and, he thought, she made him smile.
He made her smile, too, Daniil realised as he drove on. She had walked into his office, and the closer she had got to his desk the wider her smile had become.
She seemed happy when she was with him.
For the first time Daniil was considering that he might make somebody happy.
* * *
Libby should be at her happiest, she well knew.
The turnout for the information evening had surpassed her expectations—parents had brought their children, lots of women had come to find out about classes during the day and some had suggested she hold a class once or twice a week later into the evening, so that they could come once the children were in bed. A young girl called Sonia, Libby was particularly impressed with. She was fifteen years old and very talented, and was looking for an opportunity for part-time work.
Libby had thought it would be a very long time before she could even consider hiring someone but, given the impressive turnout, she had told Sonia to come along next week so that she could speak to her one on one. For now she took out the garbage and came back in and smiled when she saw that she had only three little pink cupcakes left. She had bought loads but at first, not wanting to look presumptuous, she had only put out a small plate. The rest of them she had hidden in the little kitchenette.
Presumptuous.
Yes, that word was the reason why, even during her busiest most exhilarating week, she couldn’t quite hit happy.
Oh, she’d tried not to get her hopes up, or to assume that he’d call, but such was their chemistry she just couldn’t believe how easily he could let her go.
She’d given him a business card, for God’s sake, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t have her number.
Worse, Libby knew that she had made things far too easy for him.
She should have left the present at Reception. Yes, she had practically handed herself to him with a pink satin bow on top.
Maybe he thought she was easy?
Well, so was he!
She angrily pulled down the blinds, terribly cross with herself.
The writing had been on the wall from the start and she had chosen to ignore it.
What had she expected? For man like Daniil to send flowers with a little love note?
Hell, yes!
As she turned Libby saw a broad shadow at the door and realised it was him. He’d startled her so much that instead of opening up Libby pulled down the blind on the door.
‘We’re closed,’ she said. ‘The information night finished at seven.’
‘Libby...’ He opened the letterbox and spoke through it. ‘It’s me.’
She said nothing.
‘I think we both know that I’m not here for a ballet lesson,’ he said.
She shouldn’t open the door—it was as simple as that, she knew. She should tell him to go away. While she was thrilled that he had turned up, a week between meetings was far too long.
‘Libby?’ Daniil pushed open the letterbox and his voice was as if he was there in the studio. ‘Are you going to let me in?’ His answer was hearing the lock release on the door.
Libby thought, Why does he have to be so beautiful? With just one look at him she felt like melting but she remained firm with herself.
‘I assume you’re not here for a cupcake? I have three left,’ she said, rabbiting on as he stepped in. ‘Honestly, I thought I’d have to freeze them and that Rachel and I would be living off them for weeks.’
‘Rachel?’ Daniil checked.
‘She’s my flatmate,’ Libby said.
‘Another dancer?’ Daniil checked, and she nodded.
