Chapter 21
“ In fourth place…” the announcer drones.
I listen long enough to realize my name hasn’t been announced, then clap politely.
This is usually the part of the event that makes me most nervous. Dancing is easy. Waiting is torture. How many times have I stood at the corner of the stage, trying not to pass out, praying I wouldn't be disappointed by failing to grab the trophy again, only to hear my name announced long before the first-place winners’? How many times have I trotted out my plastic smile, like third place thrilled me, while feeling crushed inside? Too many.
But tonight…I almost want the announcer to call my name now, so I can finish this dog and pony show and find Alejandro. His face still gives away absolutely nothing—not anger, not warmth. Has he forgiven me and come to be with me? Or is he simply here because I gave him free tickets and his mother likes to attend? No clue. That man could probably play a mean game of poker.
“In third place…”
Again, not my name. Another polite clap. Another clandestine glance at Alejandro. He raises a brow at me, but his expression remains utterly, frustratingly unreadable. Forget the contest results. Not knowing how he feels is killing me.
And what does that say about how much I love him? I’m well and truly hooked.
“In second place…”
Not my name again. The couple beside us sweeps out on the floor, and I can see the woman’s forced smile hiding disappointment and the crushing blow of defeat.
But wait...if second place has been announced, and there are no other couples out on the floor...
“In first place, the California Dance Star Latin dance ballroom champions, couple one hundred three, Shanna York and Kristoff Palavin of Los Angeles!”
Kristoff squeezes my hand as he leads me out onto the floor. “We did it! We did it!”
We have. Finally! Alejandro claps for me. His mother, too. The whole crowd, including my father, who enthusiastically whistles like he’s at a football game. It’s bad form in ballroom, but I smile, glow, and grin from ear to ear.
Tonight, I’m a champion. Finally.
But how did that happen, given the blackmailer’s threats?
“What about…you know?” I say to Kristoff through my smile. Apparently, the threatening bastard didn’t follow through.
Before he can answer, the emcee comes forward with our trophy. Kristoff grabs it with one hand and hoists it up in the air, along with our joined hands. Together, we bow.
Professionally, I have never been happier than in this moment.
“Ms. York and Mr. Palavin are now eligible to compete in the upcoming World Cup Latin competition.”
Wow, a huge dream come true. And yet…my life will be incomplete, my triumph hollow, if I don’t have Alejandro to share it with.
The emcee takes the trophy from Kristoff. The lights dim, and as champions, Kristoff and I dance. But my mind is on Alejandro, the way he watches me, face shuttered, posture relaxed. What is the man thinking?
Soon, others crowd onto the floor. With the spotlight no longer on us, I all but force Kristoff to tango Alejandro’s way.
Kristoff resists. “Wait. I must tell you something.”
“Later. Okay?”
“But—”
“Give me fifteen minutes.”
Before he can reply, we reach the edge of the dance floor. I turn to Alejandro’s mother.
“Mrs. Diaz? Hi, I’m Shanna York.” I hold out my hand.
“ Ella es tu novia? ” his mother asks Alejandro sharply.
“Mamá…” He sighs. “Sí.” Then he whispers something in her ear...and her entire face lightens. She glows.
She turns to me with a beaming smile and says in accented English. “Thank you for the tickets. Congratulations on winning, nuera. ”
Nuera? Damn, I need to learn Spanish ASAP. “Thank you. Have you had the pleasure of dancing with my partner, Kristoff?”
She shakes her head and risks a shy peek at Kristoff. “He is one of my favorites.”
“I’m sure he’d consider it a favor. He gets tired of dancing with me and would love your company.” I turn to my partner. “Kristoff?”
My partner smiles charmingly and takes hold of the older woman’s hand. “Shall we?”
Off they go. I watch Kristoff handle Alejandro’s mother with aplomb as he leads her into a waltz. The problem is, with Kristoff engaged, well-wishers and competitors are headed my way.
My father approaches first with a proud gleam in his eyes and a big hug. After I quickly introduce him to Alejandro and bask in my dad’s pride, I kiss his cheek. Then I grab Alejandro’s hand and drag him backstage, down a poorly lit, winding hallway, into an empty office. I have no idea who it belongs to—and don’t care—but I shut the door behind me and lock it.
“Hi.” I smile. “I’m so grateful you came. Thank you.”
God, can he hear my heart pounding like an up-tempo song at full blast?
“You sent tickets. This competition meant a great deal to you.” I hear the edge of anger in his voice, glimpse it in his tight jaw.
“Not as much as you. I know that now.” I bite my lip, wondering how bad it’s going to hurt if he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. “I’m sorry about…the other morning. You know, leaving you without a word. For everything, really. Please tell me you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
His face still gives me no inkling about his true feelings, but I consider not hating me a decent start. I rush to Alejandro, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.
Then again, unless I convince him of my sincerity, there might not be a tomorrow for the two of us.
He kisses me back. Oh, does he ever. And he tastes so good. Like brandy and a hint of cinnamon. Hot. And a few moments later, the kiss turns hungry, insistent as he devours my lips. He throws his arms around me, bands them tight around my middle, as if telling me without words that I’m not going anywhere again. I melt and become a puddle at his feet.
Long minutes and a pair of damp panties later, I break away, breathing like I’ve run a marathon. And unable to restrain a hopeful smile. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
“For leaving me alone in my bed? Hmm, I may need more…persuading.” A smile toys at the corners of his lips.
“Does tonight work for you?” I cup his cheek in my hand, look right into those killer hazel eyes, and throw caution to the wind.
“I may require more nights. Many of them.”
Hope bursts in my heart, so explosive I can hardly breathe. “You got it. I’m so sorry. What I did was insensitive. I know it. I knew it then. I was just...scared. But I’m not anymore. And I want you to know that I care about you. A lot.”
He quirks a dark brow. “Care. In what way?”
I know I have his attention. Not only do I feel it against my hip, I feel it in his gaze, in the way his arms tighten around me.
“How much, querida? ” he prompts again.
I swallow down the tangle of anxiety and need and anticipation threatening to kill my courage. “I love you.”
Those three words have barely cleared my lips before he steps around me and, with an impatient arm, wipes every piece of paper off the flat, faux-wood desk and onto the floor. A moment later, my back is against the cool laminated surface and every inch of his body covers me completely, from the bunching shoulders beneath his elegant coat to the hard abs that ripple with every breath.
“Say it again.” His voice is thick with demand.
“I love you.”
“And you mean it?”
“Except my dad, I’ve never said those three words to a man. Ever.”
Finally, warmth softens Alejandro’s strong, square face. Happiness, hunger, adoration…and love follow. “I understand, and I forgive you. Te amo, querida . I love you, too.”
Then he kisses me again, long endless moments where I feel blissfully lost in passion. Alejandro’s endless caress shimmers want in every crevice, corner, and nerve ending. I want the moment to last forever.
With a moan, he lifts his head, his hazel eyes snapping with a hunger like I’ve never seen. “What I want to do to you…with you, to show you how I feel… How do I get you out of this infernal costume?”
“I want you,” I breathe the words against his mouth. “I want you so much…but I was sewn into this getup. If you take it off, we won’t get it back on, and I have nothing else to wear.”
He curses in Spanish. No matter how melodious that sounds, I have no doubt it’s foul.
I wince. “I’ll make it up to you.”
He smiles, something sharp and greedy with his signature charm. “Perfect. We’re leaving. You’ll come to my bungalow and stay all night?”
“Yes.” Along with the next night, and the one after, and the one after that, if he’ll have me.
“You won’t leave me again?”
“In the morning? No.”
“Ever?”
Is he saying… “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
He clenches his jaw. “No.”
My stomach plummets. “Sorry. I misunderstood.”
“My mamá , she would be very disappointed if we lived together. Just before you sent her to dance with Kristoff—a brilliant move, by the way—she asked if you were my girlfriend.”
“You said yes.” A smile creeps across my mouth.
“I did, then I whispered in her ear. Do you recall?”
“Yes, what did you tell her? And what is a nuera? ”
“I told her I had other plans.” Alejandro grabs my hand, kisses it, then whispers, “ Nuera means daughter-in-law.” He takes a little black box from his pocket. “Interested in being my wife?”
Shock bursts inside me, breath-catching and sweet. “You’re proposing?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be down on one knee?” I tease.
“I would rather be on top of you, always.” He winks. “I love you, and I suspect life with you will never be boring. Will you marry me?”
“YES!!!!" I clutch Alejandro tight as he opens the box. When I catch sight of the ring, I fall in love all over again. “Yes!”
“Good. I wasn’t taking no for an answer.”
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe as he slips the square solitaire on my finger. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, slide down my cheeks. Probably ruining my mascara—and I don’t care. “When did you buy this?”
His cheeks flush a dull red. “About four hours ago. But I’ve known that I love you for far longer than that.”
“I knew you’d captured my heart, too. I was just afraid that love meant giving up my dream. I’m sorry. Never again.”
“Together, we can face anything. Shall we tell my mother and your father?”
“Yes. Just… I want another moment alone with you.” I squeeze his hand. “This is the happiest night of my life! The win, the engagement… Wow, almost too much good stuff to take in. I feel so complete.”
He brings me against him for a lingering embrace. “Me, too. I’ll be here to share your triumphs for the rest of our lives. But…” He frowns. “What happened to the blackmailer? He threatened to circulate Kristoff’s video to the judges to prevent you from competing and winning.”
“I know. I’ve been scratching my head, too. Maybe he changed his mind?”
A pounding on the door interrupts our closeness and musings. Oops. Someone wants their office back, and we’ve made an absolute mess.
Alejandro opens the door with an apology on his lips. “We’re very sorry…”
But instead of an angry event manager standing on the other side, it’s Kristoff.
“What is it?” I ask. “Is something wrong? The judges didn’t change their mind, did they?”
“No. I must talk to you.”
I promised to talk to him in fifteen minutes. I suppose those are pretty much up. “Okay.”
Kristoff paces, looking oddly hesitant. “You are happy we won, yes?”
“Of course! Aren’t you?”
He nods. “Very.”
“I don’t know how, given your footage and the threat but?—”
“I did that.”
“Did what?”
He grimaces. “I created the video. Before you force me from Sneak Peek…” He sends a pleading glance to Alejandro. “The people in the video consented to be filmed. They are my…how should I say, boyfriend and girlfriend. We are together, and they agreed to help me.”
I had no idea Kristoff is in any sort of relationship, much less with both a man and a woman. Whatever floats his boat, but… “You’re telling me that you filmed the clip and left it for me with the blackmailing note? You staged all this? Why the hell would you do that? I worried until I was sure I had no stomach left!”
“This, I know. I apologize. But, um…before I invest more time being your partner, I must know if you will stay with me. If I pretended that the news of my relationship might reach the judges, I wondered what would you do, keep me or dump me.”
I’m gaping, my mouth hanging open as I listen to his confession. But I’m struggling to compute the words. “So the blackmail wasn’t real?”
“No.” He grimaces. “Please do not hate me.”
Anger surges through me…then quickly dies. He would never have needed to test me if I hadn’t spent years partner-swapping to feed an ambition that, in the long run, nearly consumed my spirit and threatened my happiness.
“I don’t hate you. Just don’t ever surprise me again.”
“Now I know where I stand, so…never.” He snatches up my left hand, notes the ring there, then grabs me in a bear hug. “Engaged? Congratulations! You two are happy, yes?”
“Very.” I send Alejandro a warm smile, and he caresses my back in return.
“I think all will be good now,” Kristoff pronounces.
“Not just good.” My fiancé brings me closer to his side, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be perfect. We’re going to be so happy.”
“Are you sure?” Alejandro teases.
“I’m a champion with a great dance partner and a wonderfully hot husband-to-be. Oh, yeah.” I send him a saucy smile of challenge. “Don’t believe I’ll be happy? Just watch me.”
He slides his arms around me, and his kiss promises a passion that leaves me reeling. “Oh, I will.”