Page 32 of His Love

“Fine!” she snapped haughtily, smoothing her hair back. “Fine but you don’t know what you’re missing!”

To the contrary. I’d just seen her goods and it was a definite pass, thank you very much. But again, the woman was a key employee, so I tried to smooth things over.

“Class is starting soon, the girls are waiting,” I rumbled. “Isn’t it time you got over to the studio?”

Serena sneered this time, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“The girls suck this year,” she said nastily. “I’m working with a bunch of no-talent losers. This is what I put up with, farm girls from Arkansas who can’t dance worth shit.”

I frowned. That wasn’t true at all. Granted, without Kitty, the current crop left something to be desired, but that was her job. Serena was supposed to teach these girls, to create diamonds from rough stones.

But I let it go. Enough had already happened for the day and there was no need to get into it.

“Just go,” I ground out. “Class starts soon.”

And with a huff, the woman spun on her heel and stomped out, her narrow legs almost cracking from the force. When she got to the door, the brunette turned once more to sneer at me nastily.

“I know your habits Luke,” she threw out. “I know them all too well.”

And with that, the door slammed. I sat back in my chair, heart racing. Because I don’t want to let people like Serena get to me but sometimes, it happens. Today’s events had been incredible, and it was only ten in the morning. Shit, one of our key instructors had just showed me her cunt, hoping to revive the sex we’d had a decade ago. Some women are out of it and then some, and unfortunately, Serena was totally off the reservation.

But still. At least she was gone now, off to do her job, and there were more important issues at hand. Because where was my beautiful girl? Where was the gorgeous Kitty, why had she disappeared? Had Serena run her off somehow? It was weird. Sure, the brunette had been experiencing some back pain, but I thought we had it under control. I certainly hadn’t held back in bed, stretching her every which way, making her take my cock bent over double, doing the splits almost. So what the hell? What was going on?

And with a grim look, I picked up my cell. Joey, a dude I know from a way back answered.

“Find her,” was my command, “Find Kitty Jones,” I said, before hanging up with a click. Because Joey’s a PI, he’s got all sorts of tools at his disposal, all sorts of databases and weird software program shit, some legal and some not. I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to locate my girl and bring her back before tying her up all over again and beating that pussy into submission. Because Kitty belongs to me … and the sooner she realizes it, the better.

8

Kitty

“I don’t know Ma,” I said quietly, looking down at my folded hands. “I just don’t know.”

Mary was silent for a moment, her hand still on the teacup.

“Well, I just wanted to ask,” she said gently. “Because dancing’s your life, and to give up, honey? To give up just like that?”

My face reddened. Because after discovering Luke fucking some no-name girl at his place, I’d taken off. I hadn’t even gone back to my apartment to pick up stuff, I’d just hopped on a Greyhound and made my way back to Kansas. The ride had been terrible, twenty hours with only a few short bathroom breaks to stretch my legs. But at least I was home now.

Because the entire bus trip, tears had seeped from my eyes, hot trails running silently down my cheeks as I stared blindly out the window. Gripping a Kleenex fiercely in my fist, I’d tried to keep things under control, shaking so hard in my seat sometimes I was sure the other passengers could tell. But no, without any sounds, most chose to ignore me, staring at their phones with earbuds plugged into their heads.

But now that I was home, I had to tell my mom something. Because ballet has been everything in my life, and to suddenly show up on her doorstep unannounced, shaken and sobbing, was worrisome for sure. So I took a deep breath, dabbing at my eyes again.

“It was my fault, Mom,” I said in a low voice, unable to meet her eyes. “It was my fault.”

Mary looked puzzled.

“But how? What could you have possibly done? Ballet has been your dream since you were five honey, what could have gone so wrong to make you quit?”

I winced at the word “quit.” Because the truth is, I love dance, it’s still one of my greatest joys in life. But the circumstances were so impossible now that I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t stay in New York, performing for the crowds, even if I had a lead role now. It was too difficult, I could barely even breathe with my heart broken, much less get up there and spin like a top.

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