Chapter 17
Pasha
The Universal Language
The haunting first notes of the song filled the room.
The floor beneath my feet seemed to come alive, pulsating with anticipation.
The lights in the area the guys had sectioned off for Mouse and me to dance reflected off the mirrored walls.
Despite how she was completely unfocused this morning, my heart filled with incredible joy.
When I’d gotten the call from Marcel, I was floored.
In my heart, I knew it was her that day in the dance studio.
When the King brothers told me it was a case of mistaken identity, I refused to believe it.
At the time, I didn’t have any other choice but to walk away.
The company I trained with had promised dates and workshops that I was either in charge of or dancing in.
I had planned to go back to America to pursue it further once I had a break.
Marcel’s only condition on reconnecting with her was that I wasn’t to mention her family or their ties.
He was fiercely protective of her, as was Sebastian.
They’d grilled me privately four times prior to letting me come to the house.
None of that mattered now, though, with the tiny girl breathing heavily in front of me.
Small wisps of her hair escaped her bun, and her eyes narrowed as I snapped in Russian.
“Mouse, please focus.” My voice cut through the music, and she paused mid-step, her gaze momentarily clouded with confusion. “You’re not here. Your mind is wandering, and we can’t have that.” I tapped her forehead.
Her brow furrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “I’m trying, Pasha.” She put her hands on her hips, and anger pulsed off her in waves, much as they had done as a child.
Despite missing out on years of her life, I still knew her like the back of my hand. We were bound by the universal language of movement, and each of hers today showed frustration, which was entirely new for me.
Our connection transcended words, the bond defied explanations, and it was entirely magnetic how our souls were intertwined in ways I knew with no other woman.
She was beyond beautiful, and I knew if we’d had the privilege of growing up together, she would absolutely be more than a dance partner to me.
However, life threw us a curve ball, and I was smart enough to know that opportunity for us had passed. So I rejoiced in the fact that no matter what man was in her life, there was still a place for me that no one would or could replace.
I took a step closer, narrowing the distance between us, my gaze locking with hers. “Myshka, I need you fully present in this dance, every step, every movement. A distracted dancer is an injured dancer.”
She blinked, her eyes flickering with a mix of recognition and gratitude. “I know,” she whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “There’s so much going on inside my head, and I can’t seem to shake it off.”
Switching gears, I spun away from her and strode toward my phone, which was connected to the Bluetooth speakers.
I knew exactly what she needed. The current routine wasn’t serving her, wasn’t pulling her out of the emotional whirlwind that consumed her.
I needed to ground her, to help her work through her issues.
I scanned through the playlist until my eyes landed on a song. No doubt it would tug at her heartstrings—but some things were worth the ache. The piece had been one of her mother’s favorites, full of quiet meaning that only the two of us would understand.
Was it a risk? Absolutely, but one I had to take. I believed with all my heart it would connect her to her roots, refocus her, and provide a sense of comfort and familiarity.
Without a word, I selected the song and watched as the music shifted, filling the room with its bittersweet notes. Turning back to Kinsley, I fixed her with an unwavering gaze, my voice taking on an authoritative tone.
“This time it’s just you. It’s time to face the storm inside you head-on.
” I sauntered over to her, lifted her chin, and stared into her grayish-blue eyes.
“Let this song be your anchor, your guide.” I positioned her body in front of me and grounded her with my voice.
“I need you to dance like your life depends on it, with every ounce of passion and pain. Embrace the moment, and let it set you free.”
She hesitated, her body tensed, and waves of uncertainty flowed from her to me.
I stepped around her. As the first few chords resonated through the air, a flicker of recognition danced in her eyes.
A slight shake of her head, quick and stubborn, greeted me.
The motion was almost defiant. I clapped my hands loudly and began showing her the movements I expected her to make.
With a booming voice, I called out, “Tanets.” Dance. My mind buzzed with a mixture of emotion and pride as her body responded, and I began guiding her through the routine.
Something shifted, a glimmer of determination and trust emerging.
Leaning into the solo dance, she embraced the frenzied state.
Step by step, she threw herself into it, her body a vessel of raw emotion.
The angst that had held her captive found release through her limbs, through the fluidity of her dance.
I stared in awe as she surrendered to the rhythm.
She became a force to be reckoned with, an embodiment of the strength I knew she possessed.
Two hours later, I couldn’t help but grin. The intense and cathartic dance had both of us drenched. She gulped down water, and I knew it was time for a longer break to catch our breaths and let the emotions settle. I switched the music to a regular playlist, and we collapsed onto the floor.
All my earlier concerns gave way to relief at the look of peace on her face.
“You did great.”
She looked at me, her face flushed and sweaty, but her eyes held a spark of determination that hadn’t been there before.
“Thanks,” she murmured, and a small, tired smile tugged at her lips.
Without thinking, she thrust her legs out, causing me to chuckle.
I reached for them, our old routine coming back as naturally as if there was never a pause.
My hands found her calves, and I massaged them, working out the knots.
She sighed in relief, her eyes closing as she leaned back on her elbows.
“This brings back memories,” I mused, kneading the muscles.
“Right? I must say, your strength has improved.”
“Glad to know. I guess a few years will do that to you, huh?” I admitted before adding, “It’s strange. Sometimes it feels as if no time has passed at all.”
“I feel the same.”
We fell into a comfortable silence while the music played lightly in the background. I glanced at her face, thankful the tension was no longer visible. It was replaced by a serene expression, more like I was used to.
“Better?” I asked after a while, my hands slowing but not stopping.
“Much,” she replied.
She flashed me a genuine, relaxed smile. It was a small victory, but one I would take for now. Sitting there with her, a profound understanding passed between us.
“When do you need to leave for your tour?” she asked.
“I have about three weeks. I’m trying to convince your friends to let you come with me. I’m not having much luck. They keep telling me to talk to you about it, but when I do, you shut me out. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t explain it to you. I wish I could make it make sense. Just know it has to do with what happened to my parents, and I’m only beginning to process it with Marcel.” This is the most she’d said about her past, and I didn’t want to push. I had a feeling she was trying to protect me.
She leaned her head against my shoulder and grabbed my hand. Hers was so small; it had always been. I turned it over and ran my thumb across the palm.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked. My heart caught in my throat as she turned her face to mine.
“Life and how different it might have been. Would you have ever fallen in love with me? Married me? Foolish things like that.”
“Yeah, me too. How about those babies we were supposed to have?” I teased, and her face flushed.
“If I’d had my way, we would have had it all.” She shook her head when I raised my eyebrow. I had to remind myself that if she had anyone’s babies, it would more than likely be one of the three men who couldn’t get enough of her.
“I still can’t believe I told the producers that, though. I’m sorry, by the way. I guess it’s a good thing we weren’t older, and that you weren’t in a serious relationship. Speaking of relationships, though, tell me about yours?”
She scooted closer. I could sense her curiosity, her desire to make sure I was happy in my current relationship.
In that moment, a mix of emotions swirled within me, and I grappled with the complexities of my engagement to Hannah.
I’d been dying to ask her exactly what type of relationship she was having with the King brothers, so this was a perfect lead-in.
I’d answer her questions and then get some of my own.
I took a deep breath. My heart held a fierce loyalty to Hannah. We had a shared passion for dance; it bound us together, and I was grateful for her presence in my life. Yet with my little Mouse reentering my world, a rush of emotions and memories I had long since buried had been reignited.
“Pash, you’re making me nervous. Can’t you tell me?” Her voice was soft as it traveled through me.
“Hannah is a dancer in the same company. She’s actually my fiancée. We’ve chosen to keep our relationship under wraps for now, considering the complexities of our work environment. She also tends to get jealous easily.”
“Would she be jealous of me?” Her eyes held a level of fear, like she thought I’d push her away. Her lips quivered, and her expression said she wished to take back the words.
With a gentle nod, I continued, my words carefully chosen.
“Our engagement is a huge step forward for both of us. But I’m not going to lie.
Being here, in this room with you, dancing with you again…
it stirs something deep within me that I’m having trouble ignoring.
It’s complicated.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as I tried to process the string of emotions she evoked in me.
She nodded, her expression holding a mix of acceptance and a touch of sadness. “I understand. As long as she’s good to you. Is she good to you, Pasha?”
“Yes, mostly. Again, it’s complicated. Nothing like yours, though.” I narrowed my eyes.
“Tell me about it,” she murmured. She shook her head as I threw mine back and laughed. “Well, since I only have a limited amount of time left with them, I guess I can share all the sordid details with you.”
“Sordid, huh? I’d say more like salacious. Come on, now, I’m your oldest friend in the world. If you can’t tell me, then who can you tell?” I teased.
But I was nowhere near prepared. My jaw may have hit the floor. Imagining her being intimate with any man, let alone three, left the strangest sensation in my stomach.
I studied her and once again chose my words carefully. “It’s odd, not going to lie. Is Ivan upset because he wants you for himself?” I struggled to understand the tension.
“No, I did something stupid, and now he’s upset. He’ll never get over it, and when and if he does, it’ll be too late. I can’t change it, so I have to move on.”
I was left to ponder what on earth she could have done.
She was already sleeping with two other men—his brothers, no less—so cheating probably wasn’t what she meant.
The look on her face spoke volumes, but I wouldn’t press her about it.
She was entitled to her secrets. If she wanted me to know, she’d share.
“Well, I guess if nothing else, it gives me something to work with. You’re an amazing dancer, but your heartache is intense. And I’m not ashamed to say I fully intend to capitalize on it.” I rocked my body into hers.
“Wow, thanks,” she said sarcastically, causing me to chuckle.
“Yup, think of it as payback. Now come on, let’s go through it one more time. I want to change something.”
I pulled her up and back onto the dance floor. We worked for another two hours, and by the time we were done, I’d made sure she was exhausted. Once more, a rush of emotions overtook me as we headed to our rooms to shower. I had to find a way to get her to come with me when I left on tour.