CHAPTER 4
brIELLE
I take a drink from my water bottle while taking a break from practicing the routine I learned earlier today. Again. Because the steps need to become instinct. I’m not there yet.
But I’m close.
After restarting the music, I hit every step, the movement feeling natural.
When I do it again, there’s a flow that feels right. Intentional and natural at the same time. Because the steps aren’t my own, but the movement is. The feeling is.
It doesn’t matter what the stage looks like, I want someone to watch me dance and feel something. Anything.
I’m breathing hard as I walk through the room, keeping my muscles warm as I hydrate.
I don’t stop the next song from playing and it tugs at memories of a different dance studio and a boy who would watch me for hours.
As many times as I told myself to take the song out of rotation, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I never found a way to fully let go.
All I could do was move forward while my heart slipped through the cracks forged by memories, simpler days, and whiskey-colored eyes.
The breath I’m taking seizes in my lungs. He has a daughter.
Apparently, he found a way to let go.
It’s not even like I can blame him.
I push those thoughts away and let the music take me through the old steps. The same ones I used to get lost in while feeling the weight of his stare.
Instead of thinking about Everton, well, I guess it’s Cowboy now, I think about the time I’ve spent at Elysium. Everything is well run and far more professional than I was bracing for.
Sure, I learned not to judge people but that doesn’t mean you don’t try to anticipate what could go wrong. When talking about a motorcycle club running a high-end casino? I could see there being more than a few pitfalls.
But everything has been above board and beyond luxurious, both with how everything looks and how everyone is treated. Everyone. Staff and clientele.
It’s kind of mind blowing.
I’ve seen other members of the Steel Sinners too. They’ve been…surprisingly respectful. I didn’t let my traitorous heart think it was because Everton gave them a heads up about who I am. At least not for long.
One of them, Ace, was all charming smiles and easy smirks. Griffin was all jawline while looking damn good in leather. Honestly, every club member I’ve seen looks far too good in leather. I can’t hate the eye candy around here.
I’ve seen more than a few scowls and a lot of resting grump face going on. But I’ve met a lot of people in my life who showed one thing to the world while being some of the best people.
Not all of them operated within the law either.
You just never knew who you would meet in New York and what connections they would have. Dancing can be all about networking, especially when I was lucky enough to work with dance companies or small studios, because everyone needs funding. All the time. That’s another whole type of grind.
I can’t help but smile when I remember finding out how a fellow dancer, Zinnia, married Elio Agosti because she was on his arm at a meet and greet after a show. The Agosti name holds weight and I’m sure his influence goes far beyond New York. But there? He’s a king of the underground.
To find out Zinnia married him was a reminder that people will surprise you and to reserve judgement. She was like sunlight and he was all shadows. But the love he had for her was palpable. The way he looked at her was almost too intimate to witness.
It certainly taught me something about making assumptions about people.
Which is why I wasn’t worried about walking into Elysium knowing its reputation; a reputation that is hard to miss, even as a new transplant to the city. Being pleasantly surprised is just a bonus. And the bikers I’ve met have been a surprise.
Especially the boy from my past who became a man wrapped in leather with those same whiskey-colored eyes.
My chest is heaving as I come to a sudden stop. The feelings I’ve been ignoring and avoiding by moving and getting lost in the music won’t allow it anymore.
Everton Connors.
He’s here in Las Vegas. He’s part of a motorcycle club. He has a daughter.
When I glance up at the mirrored wall, I freeze. Because Rian is standing in the reflection so quietly, but she’s not still. She’s practically vibrating with excitement.
“I was hoping you were still here,” she calls out, her voice bright.
Fuck.
Looking at her is strange. Her existence, in part, feels like a blade straight to the heart. But I can’t help but love her too. Not only is she sweet, but she’s part Everton which means something to me.
“How are you doing, Rian?”
My breathing is still a little labored and I grab my towel and wipe away the sweat on my face and neck. I look away from her eyes which seem to see too much; the same eyes which remind me of her father.
“I’m great,” she chirps. The way she’s looking at me is so open, it tugs at something deep in my chest. Her words are filled with awe as she breathes out, “You’re amazing.”
“Thanks,” I huff out with a laugh as I grab my water again. As I take her in, I realize it looks like she’s dressed to dance. “Are you here to practice?”
The sheepish look she gives me is adorable. But she doesn’t shy away from me and meets my question like a challenge.
“Yeah, I found a new dance online and wanted to give it a try.”
I perk up, loving how girls have been able to find routines and choreography online to learn the steps. It might not be classes full of technique, but what you can’t teach is passion and drive. Either dancers have it or they don’t.
“You wanna show me?”
Rian shifts from one foot to the other with a wary look on her face. “Do you think you could show me one of your routines? Or something?”
The earnestness in her voice makes it hard to tell her no. But I also don’t want to overstep.
I glance at the door, wondering if Everton—Cowboy—is going to walk through the door. And then there are the questions I have about her mom. Just thinking about it threatens to break me, even though I don’t have a right to be hurt.
Still, my chest aches.
“Uh,” I glance at the door again. “Are you sure it would be okay? I haven’t been around here very long and I’m not sure how everything works.”
Rian flashes me a lopsided grin. “Considering the way my dad was looking at you the other day, you don’t need to worry about much around here.”
I blink at her a few times before swallowing hard and looking away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The giggle she lets out tells me she’s not buying it. And she shouldn’t. Even if I weren’t paying attention, I could feel the way he was looking at me.
But there are far too many questions left unanswered for me to assume anything.
I wave my hand dismissively and take another drink of water. “How about I teach you some steps?”
Rian jumps up and down while doing a little shimmy, every movement full of excitement and pure joy. I can’t help but smile and chuckle at her reaction.
With a grimace, I tell her, “It might not seem exciting at first, but we’re going to start with some basics.
One thing to always remember is you’re using your body as an instrument.
You have to take care of it. That means hydrating, wrapping joints if you need to, and working on conditioning and cardio to ensure your body can do what you want it to do.
And stretching. Never forget about stretching. ”
The look on her face is so serious that I can’t help but smile. She’s all in. It reminds me of how I felt about dancing when I first started. I wish I could have a whole classroom full of girls just like Rian.
Right now, I’m good with her looking at me with sparkling eyes just like her father’s. For a moment, I’m not even worried about who her mother is.
“Okay.” She nods solemnly. “Should we stretch now?”
My laughter fills the room before I take her through some basic stretches. Then I start in on the steps. Even though I keep it simple, she picks it up quickly with concentration written all over her face.
When we take a beat to drink some water, she shoots me a shy look. “You’re a good teacher.”
I find myself staring into space for a moment, the warmth of her words filling me in a way I’m not used to anymore. “When I was young, my dream was to go and dance. To take New York by storm and fill my life with music and movement.”
“Did you live your dream?”
My eyes snap to hers and I have to swallow hard. “Yeah,” I croak before clearing my throat, my voice steadier, “I did. It was everything I wanted it to be, but along the way my dream started to change. That happens with time, but I fought against it and denied it.”
“What did it change to?”
Rian is hanging on every word, and it feels like she deserves my honesty. Or maybe it’s me who does.
“A school for girls just like you. Girls with dreams who can use dance to make them come true or teach them how to find their center when everything else feels too wild in their lives. But New York is expensive and it was hard to save and even harder to have enough money to make it happen. Then I started working less because new dancers are always arriving. More dancers with dreams,” my voice is wistful.
“Is that why you moved here?” There’s something like hope in her voice which I’m not sure I completely understand.
“I did. I hoped to find a job, dance, and maybe it would be possible for me to open a studio,” I admit with a shrug.
“You should talk to Daddy,” she chirps and I freeze.
“I-I-I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” she shoots back, her voice sly.
“Anyway,” I hold out the word, and it makes her giggle. The look she gives me tells me she’s letting me off the hook but hasn’t been deterred.
Great.
She sees far too much for her age. I’m pretty sure my best friend shouldn’t be a nine-year-old, but I have to admit she’s kind of the front runner at the moment.