Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dance class was not going well. It turned out that Violet's disdain for being led in life translated into her refusing to be led around the dance floor too.
She also seemed incapable of relaxing. Max felt as though he was trying to waltz with an ironing board. One that kept hitting him in the shins.
"I'm not cut out for dancing," Violet ground the words out. "Couldn't we have done a martial arts class instead? I'm good at that."
"Funnily enough, they don't offer those at a wedding destination." Max smiled down at her, aware their instructor was watching their every move. "Think of this as fighting, with music."
She made a little growling sound deep in her chest. "It's not fair, Rodrigo is off picking up our weapons, Abasi's hacking the florist's database, Evan is planning a covert drone mission, and I'm here." She glared at him. "Dancing."
"No, no, no," the instructor, Robert, interrupted again. "Not like that. Remember to feel the music flow through you as you move. Let me show you again." He firmly moved Max out of the way and took Violet into his arms.
She recoiled and Max winced, mentally chanting don't hurt him, don't hurt him...
"Try to relax, Violet," Robert said. "You act like you're going to your doom, not your wedding." He chuckled like he was hilarious.
And steam came out of Violet's ears. She made a little growling sound that reminded him of the sound feral dogs made before they bit. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Sorry, but I think it's best if I dance with Violet. She's feeling out of sorts today." He eased Robert out of striking distance of his fake fiancée and took his place. "It's je—"
"Jet lag." The instructor did little to hide the fact he was rolling his eyes. "I heard she has a particularly bad case of it."
Robert was an Englishman, with stylish hair that was graying at the temples and a patrician nose.
There was a distinguished air about him that he obviously cultivated, and he seemed particularly proud of dancing in London's West End. His superior attitude was beginning to grate on Max, as he’d bet Violet wasn't the first woman Robert taught who didn't have any natural ability.
Robert took a very dramatic breath. "Okay, let's try this from the top again.
It's a gentle waltz. The steps are simple, all you have to do is hold each other, look into each other's eyes, and follow the beat of the music.
I'll do the steps beside you." He eyed Violet with long suffering.
"Please try to relax. It's very hard to dance when you're wound so tight your muscles have frozen solid. "
"I'm trying," she spat out.
"Are you though?" Robert said sweetly.
She glared at him until he backed off.
"I think the music is a distraction," she said. "Makes it hard to remember what you need to do because you're so worried you'll miss the beat."
"Then let's try it without music," Robert declared.
He signaled to the pianist to sit this round out. The young woman gleefully reached for her phone. Probably posting about the couple who couldn't even do the waltz.
Max leaned in to whisper in Violet's ear. "We're supposed to be in love and this is supposed to be fun. Remember, Rodrigo said to make everyone believe the wedding is real. For that to happen, you need to relax. Nobody expects you to do this perfectly, all they want to see is a couple having fun."
"But I should be good at this," she said with a furious frown. "I can do martial arts forms perfectly. I'm a honed machine, completely in control of my body. This should be a breeze. It's got to be the bloody beat. I've never had to kick ass to music. It's unnatural."
"First, you aren't kicking ass, you’re dancing. Second, just because you're good at one form of movement doesn't mean you have to be good at all of them."
"Yes." Her eyes darkened with rabid determination. "It does."
There was no reasoning with her. "Why don't you close your eyes and pretend we're doing very weird sparring at the gym."
She snorted. "You wouldn't last five seconds sparring with me."
"That's not the point," he said evenly. "The point is that you don't have to get this right, you just have to get through the class."
"I can do this," she said with a maniacal glint in her eyes.
Yep, he'd lost her. She was beyond reason now and obviously had something to prove. He wasn't sure what, and he was pretty sure she didn't know either, but that didn't appear to matter to her.
"Okay," Robert announced loudly. "Max's hand on Violet's waist. Her hand on his shoulder. The other two hands held in arms gracefully extended. Those arms lead the way, we follow them as they flow around the room."
Violet made gagging sounds. Max coughed to cover them.
"We don't," Robert said pointedly, looking directly at Violet, "use those extended hands to shove people out of our way or smack other dancers."
Yeah, the first hour of their two-hour lesson had been a group event.
Four dancing couples were supposed to gently waltz around the room as Robert corrected their form.
Ten seconds into their first dance it had become clear that not only would Violet not be led, but she thought the event was a race.
She picked up the pace with every step they took until they'd begun lapping the other dancers in their mad dash around the room.
And if some poor couple didn't get out of their way fast enough, she used their extended arms like a battering ram.
Essentially, she turned the waltz into a blood sport.
The other couples had left before the hour ended. Max had wanted to go with them.
"Now remember," Robert said with an air of superiority, "each step is an even beat.
We don't hurry. No step goes faster than the one before it.
That's why the waltz is a good place to start for a dancer, we're using even pacing here.
" He straightened his back and came to stand beside Violet, making sure not to touch her.
"I'll mirror the steps a follower would do.
Those are your steps, Violet. Max will do the opposite movements.
You just have to listen to me and look to me if you get confused. Now, if you're ready, we'll start."
"We're ready," Max said for both of them.
"I liked it better when we were group dancing," Violet said. "The steps don't really matter so much when you're going fast."
"Neither did the beat," Robert said with heavy sarcasm. "But the steps are what the dance is about. And if you learn them properly, it will mean the urge to race around the dance floor is curbed. Remember, dancing is about expression and rhythm, not about galloping like a horse to the finish line."
Violet made a little strangled noise. It was the sound of a woman being tortured. A woman on the edge. It made Max break out into a cold sweat as he wondered how much damage she could cause if she lost the grip on her stretched-thin patience.
While Robert went over the steps—again—Violet followed, concentrating hard. On everything except what her partner was doing. Because instead of going back when Max went forward, she went forward too. Her toe hit his bruised shin right before her knee rammed into his balls.
Blinding white light flashed in front of his eyes as he made a small, high-pitched squeak.
"Crap," Violet said as she hurriedly stepped back.
Max desperately wanted to cradle his junk, as though that would make it better, but they were in public. "I'm okay," he said tightly as his brain froze with pain.
"Oh dear," Robert said.
"I'm okay," Max said again as he fought not to bend double and cry like a baby.
Vaguely, he heard Violet say, "You're a guy, what do we do in this situation? Do we call room service and ask for a bag of frozen peas?"
Max didn't hear the reply, the ringing in his ears was too loud for that. Instead, he focused on getting himself into one of the seats positioned beside the piano.
"I'm okay," he said to anyone who'd listen.
"It was an accident," Violet said as they slowly, very slowly, walked back to their bungalow.
Max moved gingerly, wincing every now and then. "Really? Because I'm beginning to feel targeted. Last night, you drugged me and cuffed me to the bed. Today, you knee me in the balls. What's tomorrow? Gonna try to drown me? Or can I look forward to being shot, now that Rodrigo's armed the team?"
Man, he was touchy when he was in pain. Violet had been hurt plenty of times and had no problem shrugging it off. Really, this was pathetic.
"We discussed the drugging and came to an agreement, which means you let it go. Or do you plan on bringing it up every time we argue? Because that's very mature."
He gave her an incredulous look. "Can you even hear yourself?"
"I think you're making a big deal out of this," she said. "It was an accident. I said I was sorry."
"Actually, you didn't. You asked me if I needed frozen peas."
She rolled her eyes. What a freaking drama queen. She took a deep breath. "Fine, I'm sorry I accidentally kneed you. Are you happy now?"
"Ecstatic," he said tersely. "This is my happy face."
"Bloody hell," she snapped. "I've said I'm sorry. What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?"
There was a thud. Then a groan. And Violet looked around in time to see Max apologize to a palm tree. He rubbed his nose.
"I swear, if you don't kill me, your sense of humor might take me out anyway."
"Stop being a baby," she said as she gently guided him back onto the path, and far away from other palms. Obviously short cuts were out until he could concentrate on where he was going. "This can't be the first time you've been kneed," she said.
"No, but it’s the hardest I’ve been kneed. You got the perfect angle. I may never have children. In fact, I think there might be exploratory surgery in my future, to find a missing testicle."
She cringed. "Please don't use that word. It's…icky."
He stopped in the middle of the palm-lined path. "Icky? ‘Testicle’ is icky?"
"Stop." She held up a hand. "I'm begging you."
He got that fascinated look he got when he sniffed out a story, and she knew he wasn't going to stop.
"Is it only that word or do all genitalia words freak you out?" he said, proving her right.
"Don't say the G-word either," she ordered.
"Okay, this I've got to hear," he said, folding his arms, pain completely forgotten now that he'd sniffed out a story. "What do you call genitalia?"
She cringed. "You're doing it on purpose now, aren't you? This is payback, isn't it?"
His smile was wicked. "If you can knee a man in the testicles, you should be able to say the word. After all, they're part of his genitalia."
She was seriously considering kicking him again.
"Just drop it. It's no big deal. Lots of people have aversions to certain words.
Move along. There's nothing to see here.
" She started walking again. The bungalow was in sight.
As soon as she was inside, she could lock herself in the toilet until he stopped talking.
"Not so fast," he said, hurrying after with an awkward, limping jog. "I want to know, what do you call your…parts?"
She gritted her teeth. He was like a dog with a freaking bone. This would never end, and then she'd have to break her promise not to drug him again.
"I'm curious,” he said. “Is it all technical terms you have an aversion to or are there some slang phrases that freak you out too? Can you say vagina? Or pussy?"
She was going to puke. She felt her face burn.
"Never say that word again, unless you're talking about a cat.
Actually, not even then. Just stop with the questions, there's no big mystery here that you have to uncover.
I just don't like some words, okay? And my privates are privates. That's it. Nothing more."
Oh yeah, he was totally intrigued. It was written all over his face.
Violet wondered if there was a switch somewhere she could use to stop him thinking once he got a whiff of a mystery.
Life would be so much easier if men came with reboot buttons.
Being misogynistic? Reboot. Arrogantly trying to rule the world?
Reboot. Will only talk football? Reboot.
She sighed. It would make life infinitely more pleasant.
"So," Max said. "When you go to the doctor with a problem in your, uh, ‘privates’, you do what? Point to the general region and hope they find it for themselves?"
She growled making him increase the distance between them. "This topic is closed," she said, imbuing the decree with all the finality she could muster.
"For now," he said. "And only because I can't risk another kneeing."
"Forever." She unlocked the door and threw it wide. "Drugs aren't the only thing I have with me. Do not test me or you'll find out what else I packed."
"I'm almost tempted," he muttered as he hobbled into their room.
All Violet could think was reboot.