Page 3 of Falling for the Bosshole

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Lash Mancini would never wakeup before dawn on a Sunday morning, especially when there was an exotic creature lying next to him. He couldn’t remember her name, though. Was it Lili or Lila? She was a Chinese model whose face was on the cover of every fashion magazine. None of that mattered. She was a tigress in bed. That was enough for him.

Exhaling, he pulled the blanket away, exposing the lissome legs entwined with the silk sheets. He stifled the urge to caress the translucent skin and wake her up. But that would bring more problems, and right now he had to be somewhere else to prevent a potential disaster. He took a quick shower, toweled off and donned a comfortable pair of jeans. A white shirt and a pair of loafers completed his morning look. He cast a glance at the sleeping model as he grabbed the keys to his Bentley. Surprisingly, his earlier libido had disappeared. Lash hoped she would be gone by the time he returned to the apartment.

Manhattan was cool and breezy in the early morning hours. A few strips of dark clouds on the horizon promised some rainfall. The brisk windswept all remnants of sleep. Lash needed all of his wits, charm even when he met with Romina. His star dancer had been dropping hints that she wasn’t happy. That meant trouble for Lash. With the opening night looming just a few weeks away, he couldn’t afford to lose her.

The Aurora Mancini Dance Company was his pet project. He named it after his mom. Aurora Mancini was everything to him when she was alive. Everything he owned was her brainchild. The name Lash Mancini was a force to be reckoned with in the business world. And it was all thanks to his mom’s grit and determination that Lash was among the list of the world’s richest and most powerful men.

Now that she was gone, Lash was bound by a promise made on her deathbed. It was ironic. Aurora Mancini didn’t ask anything for herself. With her last breath, all she asked was for Lash to know and learn more about his Gypsy heritage, the part of him that he inherited from his father, a father Lash was never particularly fond of.

That promise resulted in the Mancini Foundation, a foundation dedicated to research the Gypsy culture, beliefs and practices, way of life, and history of persecution. Lash had in his possession memoirs and manuscripts, oral testimonies, tools and furniture, remnants of cave dwellings, costumes, medicine and medicinal tools that the Gypsy people had used over the ages. The Open Society of Europe had even cited the foundation, a recognition he was very proud of.

With every piece of information, a veil was lifted. Lash slowly understood the man that his father was. He still resented the nonexistent role his father played in his life, but he knew his mom would approve of everything he had done to understand the mystery that was his dad.

Lash decided that it was now his mom’s turn to receive his attention. As a young boy, his mom would take him by the hand and dance with him in the privacy of her bedroom. That memory remained poignantly clear in his mind. Thus, the Aurora Mancini Dance Company was born.

Lash always brought with him the charisma that his mother possessed. In an era where women were not taken seriously for their business acumen, Aurora Mancini broke the mold. She was equal to her competitors, even surpassing most of them until she accumulated the wealth that she passed on to her only son. Lash was equally driven and passionate, just as she was. He pursued his interests with a persistence born from the knowledge that nothing should ever stand in his way. He always got what he wanted.

His brows furrowed as he thought about Romina. This slip of a girl could ruin his chances of getting an endorsement from Horne Calloway, a man considered a god in the world of vaudeville, musical stage, and cinema. His endorsement could make or break the future of any aspiring dancer and certainly, even The Aurora Mancini Dance Studio. Lash had just received a letter from Horne Calloway’s office saying that he would be attending the opening night. That was what Lash hoped for, and yet, he was afraid to even think if they failed to impress him.

Lash came to a stop outside a fancy café. It was still early enough that he could park his car along the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. He knew Romina would be impressed. Breakfast was by appointment only. Lash ensured Romina’s name was on the list. He needed to warm her up.

Petite and with delicate features, Romina was a woman born to dance. It was Lash’s dance director, Jonathan Engels, who immediately saw her potential. It was easy to convince her to leave her job waitressing in a downtown dive. When the dance company started, Romina became its star dancer almost immediately. She earned quite a following in the months that they performed in out-of-town shows and small venues in nearby states. Things were looking optimistic for the company.

A year later, Lash felt confident they were ready for bigger venues like Radio City Music Hall. They began an intensive routine of dance practices. Jonathan Engels hired the best choreographers he could find. Money was no object for Lash in his search for the stars that would compose his ensemble. He paid a hefty sum of money to buy out the contract from another dance company for Ricardo Ruiz, his male star dance and Romina’s current partner. Unfortunately, Ricardo’s fiery temperament clashed with his diva. They had egos bigger than their weights combined. On stage, they were awesome to watch. Offstage, they bickered like cats in heat.

Lash spotted Romina as soon as he entered. The gloomy look on her face was there for all to see.

“Hi, Romina. My star dancer is looking fabulous today,” Lash greeted her.

Romina forced a smile then proceeded, stirring her latte.

“What’s wrong?” Lash pretended not to know.

“It’s that awful Ricardo Ruiz,” Romina whined, “he extended his part to a full 30 seconds for the side-by-side dance. It’s not fair. Those 30 seconds are mine.”

“I was there at the rehearsals. You were both great,” Lash said.

The dancer smirked. “It’s because he is a devious asshole.” Romina sighed, then with tears brimming added, “Maybe I should just resign. No one seems to believe me anyway.”

“Of course I believe you,” Lash countered, “I’ll ask Jonathan to speak to Ricardo. In the meantime, I have some news for you. I might just get you on the cover of Dance Magazine, New York.”

“You would?” Her eyes suddenly came alive.

Lash nodded, crossing his fingers underneath the table. He had no connections with Dance Magazine but hoped that Lili or Lila, the Chinese model he left sleeping in his apartment, could help. If that didn’t work out, he was willing to buy a spot from the darn magazine. Hell, he would buy the whole publication if it came to that. He would have promised her the moon to keep the company going till opening night. In his gut, he knew he was going to get that endorsement from Horne Calloway.

Romina was so excited over the prospect that she forgot her anguish over the 30-second loss. Lash knew he had accomplished what he came for. He signaled the maître d.

“She’s my guest and someone very important. Treat her like royalty.” The maître d nodded effusively. He knew Lash Mancini’s reputation. Lash stood to go.

Romina sprung to her feet. “Tell me more. When do they plan to do the interview? Who will photograph me? Oh … I hope it’s that new guy they’re all raving about.”

“I haven’t gotten all the details. I told them they would have to wait because you’re busy with rehearsals. But Dance Magazine is dead set on having you; they’re willing to wait until after opening night,” Lash lied.

“But I can do it sooner,” Romina contradicted, “I’ve memorized all my dances.”

“I know you have. But I want Dance Magazine to see how good you are. They just might give you a full ten pages instead of just a couple,” Lash replied.

Lash headed for his car, leaving Romina with waitresses hovering around her. He heaved a sigh of relief. Dangling the magazine cover bait was a light bulb moment. He just needed to know how to get it done.

“Only one way to find out,” he muttered as he headed back to his apartment. He prayed that the Chinese model knew how. But he needed to know her name first.