CHAPTER TWENTY
ELISE
THERE WAS SOMETHING to be said about the fact that I was dancing the night after my ex left a cryptic message and gift on my doorstep.
My brain wouldn’t let me dwell on the fact that my ex-boyfriend was out of jail and hunting me down.
So instead of focusing on a situation that would lead me to a fetal position in the corner of my room, I focused on the one thing Jax didn’t take from me: Dance.
Other than work and Kelsey, dance had been the only constant thing in my life since Jax went to jail.
In the beginning, when I had nightmares of Jax breaking out, I’d wake up and turn on some music and dance until the only thing that mattered was the ache in my muscles and the familiar surge of happiness that coursed through me whenever I got my body moving.
It was the same feeling that raced down my spine as the last few lyrics of the song I was dancing to floated around the room, only now I couldn’t decide if the reason I was dancing tonight was to distract myself from thoughts of Jax or to distract me from thoughts of Nathan.
It was definitely a mixture of both.
Walking into the dance studio after work was instinct. It was different than all the other times I’d snuck off after my shift.
All thanks to one phone call and hearing Jax’s voice again.
Even now, the echo of Jax’s promise slithered down my spine like smoke.
“I’m going to see you again sooner than you think.”
His voice was familiar, venom-soaked, and had sunk its claws into my thoughts and refused to let go.
I hadn’t realized how badly my hands were shaking until I was holding onto the studio’s barre, pressing my palms flat against the cool wood, like I could push the panic out through my skin.
I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, but I couldn’t stop the swirl of rage and fear twisting beneath my ribs.
I hated that even hearing his voice still had the power to make my skin crawl, to make me question whether I was truly safe or if the locks on my door were enough or if the life I built without him could hold steady beneath the weight of his shadow.
And still, I didn’t run home. I didn’t hide. I didn’t let myself break.
I danced.
Because when everything else in my world had collapsed, dance remained.
Unchanged. Untouched. And when the first note of music filled the studio, it was like my lungs expanded for the first time all day.
My feet moved automatically, muscle memory taking over where my anxiety refused to let me think.
Each step, each breath, was a rebellion against the fear Jax had tried to chain me to.
Every roll of my hips, every deliberate movement, was a quiet reminder that I was still mine.
He didn’t own me anymore.
Not my time.
Not my body.
Not my soul.
I was getting ready to play the song again from the beginning when I caught movement from the corner of my eye and froze.
Nathan was here.
He stood by the doorway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest like he had all the time in the world.
His dark hair was slightly tousled like he’d run a hand through it, and the ever-present scowl that made him untouchable at the office was absent.
Instead, his expression was unreadable, his gaze locked onto me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
My pulse spiked for an entirely different reason.
“I thought you were in your office,” I said, my voice coming out a little breathless.
“And I thought you were on your way home.”
Caught.
I swallowed, wiping my hands on my shorts as I straightened. “I needed to clear my head. What are you doing here?”
The dance studio, tucked away on the lower level of Edge Records, was quiet at this hour and dimly lit except for the soft glow of recessed lights along the ceiling. The hardwood floors stretched wide beneath my feet, scuffed with years of movement, proof of every artist who had come before me.
Edge’s lower level was known as the creative floor.
A haven where artists could get lost in their craft.
One studio was dedicated to songwriting and live instrumentation.
Another had a small sound booth for late-night recording.
This one, the dance studio, was my sanctuary.
A place where no one asked questions. No one expected me to smile or be "on. " I could just be.
Nathan didn’t answer right away. He looked around the studio instead, his eyes trailing over the mounted speakers, the polished mirrors, the soft ring light glowing from the corner and finally, the tripod still standing center floor, my phone perched in place.
His brow lifted.
I sighed. “I’m creating content,” I explained. “Now answer the question, what are you doing down here?”
I caught the faintest twitch of a smirk before he shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and finally replied, “Carl said you came down here.”
“Carl?” I gaped. “Oh, he is so not getting chocolate chip cookies from me this week.” I’ve been bringing Carl a batch of my famous chocolate chip cookies for just about as long I’ve been working at Edge Records.
It started as a thank you for walking me to my car that first late night, and just kind of stuck.
Carl claimed he liked them better than his wife's (I highly doubted that) but I still appreciated the loyalty.
Nathan arched a brow, clearly amused. “So that’s how you get security to keep your secrets. Baked goods?”
I shrugged, smirking. “You’d be amazed at what my hands can do.”
His eyes darkened to a navy blue so fast I could’ve imagined it. But the tension that curled between us at my words was very real.
“Noted,” he said, voice rougher than it had been a moment ago.
I turned back toward my phone, trying to keep my heart from sprinting. “Tell Carl he’s cut off for breaking my trust.”
“He only told me because he was worried about you.” Nathan’s voice gentled. “Said you didn’t look like yourself when he ran into you.”
It wasn’t like I could tell him about Jax.
I scoffed. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” he said softly, tilting his head. “You still seem in your head.”
I shrugged. “I’m still planning to use your credit card, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His lips twitched. “I’m not worried.”
“Good. Because I fully intend on buying shoes and accessories.”
Nathan chuckled under his breath but didn’t push and I appreciated that he didn't demand I explain what I clearly was trying to deflect. He just stood there with that quiet steadiness I didn’t realize I needed.
I turned back toward the tripod and started adjusting the angle for another take.
My account had a pretty decent following which I first gained through dance trends before I eventually started posting my own choreography and routines.
It brought in enough revenue to keep me afloat, which was going to come in handy along with my savings once my time as Nathan’s assistant was done.
“I didn’t know you came down here,” Nathan said, quieter this time. “Let alone danced like that.”
I shrugged, folding my arms over my chest in a vain attempt to feel less exposed.
“Did it work?” he asked after a moment.
“Did what work?”
“Clearing your head.”
For a moment, I considered lying again. Telling him yes, that I felt better, that dancing chased the demons away like it always did. But the truth sat heavy on my tongue.
“No,” I admitted. “Not entirely.”
Something flickered in his expression. Not pity but something else. Understanding.
“I jog,” he said simply.
That made me blink. “You jog?”
He nodded. “First thing in the morning. Or whenever my head won’t shut up. I run until the noise dies down.”
I didn’t know why that confession hit me the way it did. Maybe because it felt like the kind of thing you tell someone you trust. Maybe because it was the first time I heard Nathan talk about his own coping mechanisms instead of barking out orders or hiding behind sarcasm.
“Guess we’re not so different,” I said softly.
He stared at me for a second longer, then his gaze dropped to my phone still mounted on the tripod.
“What were you filming?”
“A Tiktok.” I exhaled through a nervous laugh. “For the algorithm or whatever. It would be better if I had a dance partner though.”
He arched his brow. “The algorithm needs you grinding on a chair?”
I rolled my eyes. “You sound like an old man.”
“I am an old man compared to you.”
“Please. You’re only twenty-nine.”
“Exactly. Practically prehistoric,” he deadpanned. I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as I checked the recording on my phone. The little red light blinked out just as I reached it. “I’ll do it.” He said after a beat.
“Do what?” I stared at him, confusion scrawled over my face.
“I’ll be your dance partner,” Nathan clarified.
“Wait, what?” I was sure I sounded like a scratch record.
He clearly said what I heard, but my brain wasn’t registering the fact that Nathan Edge wanted me to dance for him.
The same man who made me feel things I shouldn’t.
My pulse quickened as I tried to decide if I was about to make the worst or best decision of my life.
“Unless I make you nervous and you don’t think you can do it.” Nathan smirked and the challenge in his voice was clear as day.
Challenge accepted.
“Have a seat.”
Nathan obeyed, lowering himself onto the chair, his long legs spread, his arms resting on the sides. He looked like a king on a throne, like he owned this moment before it even began.
I swallowed hard, adjusting the angle of my phone before pressing play.
The music started—Feel It by Jacquees.
I set the timer and moved into position, glancing back once to make sure the little red dot was blinking.
Five seconds. Four. Three. Two…
And I moved.
I started in front of him, letting the beat settle into my body as I rolled my hips slowly, dragging the movement out while my hands slid through my hair and down my body, deliberate and unhurried.
His attention locked onto me instantly.