Chapter Three
Three
Olivia
Then . . .
The music swam through the room and even though I was exhausted and sweat was trickling down my body, I’d never felt so alive.
“Again,” Christoph barked as I finished yet another dozen pirouettes and fouettés in rapid succession.
I glanced at him in the mirror, realizing we were alone, as the last rays of the setting sun highlighted his stern dark features, his hazel eyes unforgiving as he waited for me to keep going.
So I did. Instead of ten spins each, I pushed for twenty. Then added another round of thirty. I was panting, my heart pounding hard and steady when the music suddenly stopped.
I froze, my feet still in first position, and lifted my gaze to his in question through the large mirror.
His eyes slid slowly down my body and heat licked my spine in their wake.
I swallowed, unable to speak, as he took a step in my direction. Another.
Since the day I’d arrived at La Scala, I’d felt this magnetic attraction to him. I couldn’t help it. Tall for a dancer, he still wasn’t a big man, but he seemed so much larger than life with his personality, his talent, his passion. And as much as I tried to brush it off, it was hard to ignore his blatant stares at times or the way he’d make excuses to correct my technique—a brush of the hand here, a lingering grip to reposition my body there. None of the other students got half of the attention that I did in these past two weeks, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that other than it was going to be a long, hot summer as we danced around this... whatever it was.
I jerked and sucked in a breath when he came up behind me so close, I could feel his body heat. Our eyes locked in the mirror, and he slid a slow hand down my arm. “You are gifted, Olivia,” he murmured, his deep voice low, hypnotic. Reverent. “Such a beautiful dancer. As beautiful as I’ve ever seen.”
Chills hit my flesh at his praise and his touch, and I leaned back into him involuntarily, needing more of it.
He bit back a smile, as if understanding the need. “Tu mi tenti.”
I spun around, finding myself in his arms. “Sorry?”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Don’t be.”