Chapter Three Cord
Three
Cord
I need a shower. And a drink. And some sleep. Not necessarily in that order.
I probably shouldn’t have performed tonight. The week has been long; hell, the month has been long. Paperwork and red-eye flights and tasks I never really thought about when I decided to start my own show.
But I needed to get out there, to remind myself why I started this whole thing in the first place. It’s not the screams of the audience—though those certainly don’t hurt—it’s the rush of performing. The way the light hits your face and the satisfaction that comes with nailing a routine.
Despite the exhaustion, I feel more awake than I have in a long time.
I say my goodbyes to the rest of the guys, promising to join them for a postshow drink next time, even though we all know I likely won’t.
Pushing out the backdoor into the cool night air, I pause when I hear Warren engaged with a fan. I’m not in the mood for a run-in, so I hover in the doorway and listen.
“I promise I’m not a fangirl, I just really need to speak to one of the performers.”
I roll my eyes. Like Warren hasn’t heard that line before.
“As I said, that doesn’t happen here. The performers don’t speak to audience members after the show.” Warren’s voice is calm but firm. He’s been with me since I opened Six Pact and I hired him because he has the gentleness of a kindergarten teacher and the strength of a bull.
“Right. And I totally don’t want to go backstage or anything. I just really need to talk to one of the guys. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s going to want to talk to me.”
I huff out a silent laugh. I doubt that. We have a pretty strict no fraternization policy here, but even if we didn’t, most of my guys are in serious relationships.
“Who exactly are you hoping to talk to?” Warren asks.
“Um, I don’t know his exact name, but he’s the main one. The tap dancer.”
That piques my interest. Not just because she’s obviously talking about me, but because of how she chose to describe me.
“Not usually the first descriptor that comes up when people are describing Cord.” Warren echoes my thoughts.
“Cord! Yes, that’s the one. I really need to talk to Cord. Not about anything weird, I just have a business proposition for him.”
“A business proposition, huh?”
“I’m serious! I get that women probably throw themselves at him all the time, but that is so not what this is about!” The indignation in her tone is so clear I almost believe her.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I chance a peek out the door.
Holy shit.
It’s her.
The woman from the show.
Of course it’s the woman from the show, idiot, I think.
But I didn’t know it was the woman from the show.
The one I noticed right away. Not because she was overly invested, but because she seemed like she would rather be anywhere other than sitting in the audience watching us perform. Which is unusual.
Warren sighs, abandoning his post at the door to cross the sidewalk to the woman.
“Look, miss, I’m sure you have the best of intentions, but please trust me when I say Cord is not going to want to hear what you have to say.
Whatever it is you are planning to offer him, he’s not interested.
So why don’t you save both of us some trouble and just be on your way? ”
“I’m not going to be interested in what, exactly?” I push the door open, getting my first clear look at the woman.
She’s on the taller side, thin, but clearly toned. Her blond hair hangs in waves down her back and she tosses it when she sees me standing there. Not in a flirtatious way, like it’s bothering her and she wants it out of her face. Her breathtakingly beautiful face.
“I was just telling this young woman that she needed to leave, sir.” Warren reaches for her elbow, but she takes a step back to avoid his touch.
“And I was just telling him I’m not here for any shady kind of sexual proposition.”
I saunter down the two stairs leading from the backdoor, landing just a few feet away from her. “That’s a shame.” I nod to Warren, dismissing him. He retakes his position blocking the door.
I move so I’m standing directly in front of the woman.
She’s not as tall as I originally thought—she only comes up to my chest. Her posture is impeccably straight, giving her the appearance of height.
My innuendo doesn’t register, or if it does, she isn’t going to give me the satisfaction of a response.
She’s beautiful, that much would be clear to anyone. But it isn’t her looks that has my breath stilling in my lungs. There’s something more there, something about her.
She pushes her shoulders back, despite her already perfect posture. “I do have a proposition for you, it just happens to be a business one.”
I pull out my cockiest grin. “Oh? Are you going to introduce yourself first? Typically, I like to know who it is I’m going to be doing business with.”
Her gaze catches on my lips and stays there. I grin even wider. “Allegra Hart.”
I stick out my hand. “Cord Donovan.”
She hesitates before placing her hand in mine. Her reaction is immediate, a quiet gasp that I would have echoed if I hadn’t mentally prepared myself for the sensation of her skin on mine. My fingers tighten around hers and she doesn’t pull away. “Nice to meet you, Allegra Hart.”
Her eyes—a hazel that looks gray in the dark—flutter closed for a half a second and when she reopens them, she pulls her hand from mine, tucking it behind her back. “I would like to hire you.”
My smile fades, and an unexplainable wave of disappointment washes over me. “We don’t do private parties, but if you call the box office, they can let you know about the different packages we offer.”
She shakes her head. “No, I don’t mean the group. I would like to hire you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “I thought you said this proposition wasn’t sexual.”
Her cheeks flush and she directs her gaze to the ground, as if that might hide the pink dancing over her skin. “It’s not. I’m a dancer, with Ballet New York, and I have an audition coming up that I need some help with.”
It’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
Of all the things I expected her to say, that was low on the list.
I drop any hint of flirtation or a smile or friendliness from my face about to kindly but firmly let Allegra—fuck, she’s even named after a ballerina—know I have no intention of helping her.
But she rushes on before I can shoot her down. “I’m a soloist, and I’m trying to get promoted to principal—that’s like the lead role.”
“I know what a principal is.”
“And our director is putting together a new piece and the female leading role is a courtesan and I want to audition for the part, but according to my director, I don’t have the sex appeal to fully embody the character and so it’s something I need to work on and I really didn’t have any idea how to go about it, but then I saw your show tonight and it hit me—that’s what sex appeal onstage looks like, and so I just thought maybe I could hire you to teach me. ”
My stomach turns as her words sink in. “I have so many questions.”
“Okay?”
“Your director told you that you don’t have any sex appeal?” An old, familiar ire burns up my chest.
She rocks up onto her toes and rolls back down again, her calves flexing with the movement. “I mean, I think it was more implied than directly stated, but essentially yes.”
I scrub a hand over my face. What a fucking prick, not that that comes as a surprise. Directors of ballet companies usually are. “And you saw the show tonight and now you think I can teach you how to add sex appeal to your dancing?”
“Yes?”
“Jesus Christ.” My hand runs through my hair this time, pushing it off my face. It’s still sweaty from the show and mercifully stays out of my eyes. I let them study the woman—Allegra. There’s a desperation in her gaze, one I know all too well.
“I can pay you,” she offers, her voice small.
“I don’t need your money.” God knows I probably have more of it than she ever will with the way corps dancers get paid. There’s no way I can do this. I cannot actually be considering saying yes. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Because you don’t think I can do it?”
“Because you don’t know anything about me.” And if she did, if she knew who I was, she wouldn’t be here asking me for help. She wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
“I know what I saw on that stage.”
“You didn’t seem all that impressed at the time.”
The flush on her cheeks spreads down to her chest, and I do my best not to stare. “I’m not into lap dances.”
I take a step closer to her. “If you want to learn how to be sexy, you’re going to have to get a lot more comfortable with bodies, Allegra Hart. Both yours and others’.”
She swallows thickly, but there’s a hint of fire in the depths of her eyes. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“I want something in exchange, but not your money.” What the fuck am I doing right now?
“What do you want?” She holds her breath, and I wonder just how much she is willing to give up in order to achieve her ballerina dreams.
“I’ve been thinking about adding a piece to the show with a female dancer.
Something a little more romantic, but still as hot as the rest of the show.
” I haven’t been thinking about adding anything to the show, but it’s the best I can come up with on the fly.
The only thing I can think of that’s legal but might still get her to say no to this farcical plan of hers.
“I can’t commit to performing on a nightly basis.”
“No need. Choreograph it with me, perform it once or twice to test it in front of an audience, and then I’ll find a more permanent dancer.” There’s no way she’s going to go for this, lowering herself to perform in a male revue.
“And in exchange you’ll help me prepare for my audition?” She bites her lip.
I nod, swallowing the fear that she might actually say yes. I get closer. “But I have to warn you, I’m going to push you out of your comfort zone, Allegra Hart.”
Her pupils expand, drowning out the sparkling gray. “Understood.”
Fuck.
Well, at least she’s got some backbone. I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”
She complies without question.
I type a text to my own number and save my contact info. “Now you have my number. I texted you the address of our studio. It’s only two blocks from here. Meet me there tomorrow at three o’clock.”
She takes her phone back and glances at the screen. “You saved your number under Big Daddy?”
I grin. I’m not sure what kind of disaster I’ve just gotten myself into, but if this is really going to happen, I’m going to have fun with it. I offer her my hand again. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
The cockiness drains out of my smile when her hand slots into mine for the second time.
The simple brush of her skin shouldn’t be so overwhelming, yet I find myself breaking the contact this time.
She smells like rosin, and the hint of pine sends me reeling back in time, to a place I never want to return to.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and she doesn’t sound any more confident than I feel.
She turns on her heel and walks down the street, away from me, fading into the darkness.
I watch her until I can no longer see her silhouette in the shadows.
A throat clears behind me.
I don’t have to see Warren’s face to know he’s smiling. “One word and you’re fired, Warren.”
“Sure thing, boss.” He chuckles. “You have a good night now.”
Something tells me a good night is not in my future, not with the vision of Allegra Hart burned into my brain.
And not with what I just signed myself up for.
Fuck.