Page 17 of Slow Burn

The evening before our dress rehearsal, and with less than forty-eight hours until opening night, things felt strained to say the least. Our four duets were choreographed, but they still needed work, and Gabriele wasn’t convinced our Argentine tango was strong enough.

We’d arrived at James Jive about an hour ago, after a day of rehearsing with the rest of the company at Pineapple, and we’d already acknowledged that we were going to have to rehearse all night if we had to.

For a brief moment, I let myself wonder about where he might sleep if he missed his last train.

There was no way I could take him back to the house – Mum and Dad hadn’t left for their cruise yet, and, ridiculously, I still hadn’t told them about the show.

Sedi had headed back to Shoreditch the morning after I’d stormed out of the dinner and I’d tried to arrange a video call with her and Nolo to explain, but Nolo had been at long rehearsals most days and Sedi had been in Paris for an audition and we hadn’t been able to agree on a time.

As for Mum and Dad, I’d had plenty of opportunities to say something, and I’d apologized for my outburst at lunch, but neither of them had actually asked me why I wanted to spend less time at the studio, and what it was I wanted to do instead.

Knowing them, they were probably hoping it would all just go away – actually talking about problems wasn’t really a thing in our family.

I’d locked up the studio for the night and had read over the notes left for me by one of the freelance dance teachers I was secretly employing to cover lessons while I was at rehearsals.

I’d put them all on the payroll, so at some point Dad was going to notice, but hopefully it wouldn’t be until he and Mum were mid-Mediterranean, by which point the Slow Burn London run would be in full swing and I could deal with their disappointment from a distance.

I mean, how bad could it be, right? Maybe it was all in my head, anyway – when they found out why I couldn’t run the studio for a while, they might be over the moon for me, excited that my passion for performing had been unexpectedly re-ignited.

Anyway, whatever happened, it would be worth it – I’d never have imagined I’d be heading up a West End show in just a few days’ time.

My fears about being dropped or not living up to Carlos’s expectations were waning with each passing day, and I was confident that I could actually pull it off.

And if I could just hold off my family for a little bit longer, I would be able to focus on giving the best performance of my entire life on opening night without worrying about what everyone thought.

For possibly the first time in my life I was being completely and utterly selfish and putting my own happiness first – and it felt pretty damn good.

I took a sip of water, reminded myself we very nearly had this routine down, and walked into the studio where Gabriele was waiting for me on the dance floor.

I flicked the music on and took my starting position for the Argentine tango, as I had a hundred times before.

‘We need one more lift,’ said Gabriele, suddenly.

‘Really?’

Wasn’t it a bit late to be adding something else in? The routine looked great as it was.

‘I will try something this time; something I saw online and think we should try to recreate. Go with it, okay?’ he insisted.

‘Fine,’ I agreed.

‘I want us to dance like we are in Argentina,’ he said, taking my hand and looking into my eyes.

‘Remember that I learned this dance from my grandmother, my abuela . There is an aggressiveness to it over there, a violence. Many years ago, it was illicit, forbidden, lower class, and even today it must still have that intensity. We must dance like our lives depend on it.’

I nodded, falling into the walking step, la caminada , letting him lead me across the floor.

We knew each movement like the backs of our hands, and yet, in some way, the steps felt brand-new each time we performed them.

With what he’d said about Argentina in our minds, this time I felt him commanding me.

I felt heady, breathless, like I never wanted our dance to stop.

And then, taking me by surprise, Gabriele fell to one knee, running his hand down my thigh until he reached my ankle, at which point he placed it over his shoulder.

I knew what he was about to do and had no choice but to go with it, praying I could balance as well as he seemingly thought I could.

With my leg hooked over his shoulder, he placed his hands around me and rose to standing, taking me with him.

My pelvis was pressed so hard into his face, I was surprised he could breathe, but he appeared to have enough oxygen to spin me around twice before lowering me gently back to the floor.

‘Embellishment!’ he shouted.

I lifted my foot off his shoulder, extending it out as far as I possibly could before whipping it around behind me and sinking into a deep lunge.

‘Good,’ said Gabriele, pulling me up to meet him, our foreheads touching now, his long eyelashes tickling my cheekbones as he blinked.

We picked up the steps we’d rehearsed, the boleos becoming faster and faster, sharper and sharper, until the music came to a crescendo.

For our final move, he lifted me again and I kicked my foot out behind me before swinging one leg back through his legs, finishing up in the splits on the ground.

Then, with one hand, Gabriele lifted me high into the air, and as soon as my feet touched the ground again, he put his hand on the small of my back to support me as I fell into an extreme back bend, my right fingertips trailing on the floor behind me.

I stayed very still for a beat or two, my blood pumping hard through every part of my body, before he hauled me up.

‘Did that work?’ he asked, breathless himself.

I nodded. It had felt risky, but I knew it would look fantastic. ‘Yes.’

And then, as I looked into his deep brown eyes, and he looked just as intensely into mine, something happened between us; the thing I’d been missing, a softness to his gaze, a searingly addictive feeling curling up from my feet into my stomach and my chest. It was as though his defences had dropped away and I could see the real Gabriele again, the one I’d known briefly all those years ago.

The music was still playing, and of course it was romantic and evocative, so maybe that was what tipped us over the edge. Or perhaps it was the heat from his palm, which was still placed firmly on my lower back making me feel safe and seen.

I wanted him to keep it there forever.

Was it me or were our mouths drawing closer together?

His head dipped a little, as though he might be about to kiss me.

Letting myself go with the intense need for him that suddenly overwhelmed me, I rocked my weight forward onto my toes, pressing my chest into his strong, wide one, lifting my chin, ready for him to press his lips against mine.

He was centimetres away, then millimetres.

Our chests were rising and falling as we looked into each other’s eyes.

My heart was racing so hard I was sure he could feel it.

And then he pulled back.

‘Li…’ he said.

‘It’s okay,’ I whispered.

I knew what he was going to say. We couldn’t. We shouldn’t. I went to take a step back, too, but instead he pulled me into him again, sliding his free hand underneath the wrap miniskirt I’d ill-advisedly decided to wear, slipping it deliciously between my thighs.

And then he kissed me.

He actually did it this time, and I didn’t have time to think, I just reacted, arching into him, a moan escaping from my throat that I hadn’t even realized was there.

I’d wanted this so much; for years and years I had dreamed about it, daydreamed about it, and now it was happening.

I let myself go with it, giving everything of myself to him.

‘Lira, what are you doing to me?’ he growled, picking me up again, like he had during the dance, carrying me effortlessly over to the mirror with his strong arms, resting my back against the cool glass.

I gasped with pleasure. ‘This feels so good.’

I slid down the mirror, planting one leg on the ground and curling the other around his waist, wanting his whole body close to me.

My hands were tangled in his hair, his tongue was filling my mouth.

It was like every single cell in my body was on fire.

And then, over his shoulder, I saw something – or should I say somebody – peering through the window of the studio.

I put my hand on Gabriele’s chest, pushing him lightly away.

‘Somebody’s out there,’ I said.

‘They will soon get bored and go somewhere else,’ he said, not moving, stroking my cheek instead, looking at me with those hypnotic eyes you couldn’t ignore even if you wanted to.

But whoever it was didn’t go away, they rapped on the window and then they moved to the front door and knocked on that, too.

Frustrated, I checked my watch – it was nine-thirty in the evening.

Who on earth could it be at this time? Unless one of our clients had forgotten something and had swung by to see if we’d found it.

‘I’d better go and see who it is,’ I said.

Gabriele groaned as he released me from his hold.

‘Fine. But hurry back.’

I laughed lightly as my foot dropped to the floor.

Was this really happening?! I straightened my skirt and patted down my hair, which I was sure would now be all over the place after Gabriele’s hands had raked deliciously through it.

I smiled to myself as I ran out into the reception area, immediately realizing exactly who it was at the door, because they were currently yelling drunkenly through the keyhole.

‘Lira?! Are you in there? It’s me, let me in!’

It was Sedi and she sounded off her face. I stepped away from the door like it had burned me.

‘One second!’ I called.

I rushed back into the studio, where Gabriele was leaning enticingly against the mirror, slightly flushed, looking at me as though I was going to fall right back into his arms and carry on where we left off. I’d have liked nothing more, but this was an emergency.

‘It’s my sister!’ I explained, hearing the panic in my voice. ‘You’re going to have to sneak out the back door.’

He looked at me, confused. ‘Why would I need to sneak out?’

Seriously, could he just move?! There was no time for this! ‘Because I haven’t told anyone about the show! And if she sees you here, she’ll know something’s up and I’ll have to explain to my entire family what I’m doing and—’

‘Your family don’t know you have been cast in Slow Burn ?’ he asked, seemingly incredulous.

Of course it would sound weird to anyone else. Nothing about what I was doing felt remotely normal, but I’d got myself into it now, and tonight was not the time for the big reveal.

‘No. They don’t. I’ll explain it at some point, but right now, you need to go.’

Sedi hammered on the door.

‘Tell me now,’ said Gabriele, infuriatingly refusing to vacate the premises.

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Who do they think is running the studio while you are at rehearsals? And what is going to happen when we go on tour – who is going to look after it then?’

‘I’ve hired a couple of dance teachers I know, all of whom I trust implicitly.

Plus, I’ll be available on the phone 24/7 if they need me,’ I added, aware of Sedi becoming increasingly frustrated out on the street.

‘And by the way, I don’t need your judgement on the matter!

’ I picked Gabriele’s hoodie off the floor and threw it at him.

‘The back door’s this way. I’ll show you. ’

He shook his head, grabbing his bag and his water bottle, and followed me across the dance floor as I opened the fire door at the back of the studio and stood aside to let him through.

‘This leads out into an alleyway. Head that way and you’ll meet the main road. Turn left for the station,’ I said.

‘Way to make a man feel wanted,’ said Gabriele, snarling at me as he brushed past.

Clearly, I’d upset him, but my main priority was letting Sedi in and making some excuse about why I’d taken so long to get to her. At least she wouldn’t be quite so astute given her drunken state.

‘Sorry,’ I said, flinging open the front door. ‘Couldn’t find the key.’

‘Hmm,’ said Sedi, pushing past me. She staggered straight into the studio, looking around with an eagle eye.

‘Was there somebody else in here with you?’ she asked slurring her words. ‘I heard another voice.’

I shook my head. ‘How much have you had to drink, Sedi?’

She ignored me, pointing her finger at me ominously and then twirling it around in a drunken fashion. ‘Have you had a man in here, Lira?’ she teased. ‘Have you been up to no good in the family dance studio?’

‘Absolutely not. I was just choreographing some steps for one of my wedding couples. You must have been seeing double.’

She scoffed. ‘They’re doing an Argentine tango on their wedding day? Ha! A recipe for disaster!’ she declared. ‘Got any Prosecco open?’

‘Haven’t you had enough?’ I said, already sounding like the sort of parent I never wanted to become.

The problem with Mum asking me to keep an eye on Sedi and Nolo was that, for their entire lives, they’d been given everything they’d ever wanted on a plate.

My parents rarely denied them anything, and so when I said no to something, they tended to ignore my protestations and did exactly what they wanted to anyway.

If only I possessed half of their sense of entitlement.

‘Why are you telling me what to do?’ whined Sedi.

‘I’m not, I’m just advising you,’ I said, knowing it was pointless trying to get through to her.

If she wanted more alcohol, she was going to have it, whether I approved or not.

‘There’s an open bottle of white wine in the fridge – should be nice and cold,’ I said to appease her. ‘Why are you in Castlebury, anyway?’

‘Wanted to see Mum and Dad before they go on the cruise, didn’t I?’ said Sedi, fumbling around, unscrewing the bottle and pouring a too-large measure into a glass.

While I watched her, I let myself acknowledge what had just happened with Gabriele.

We’d kissed. It had felt amazing. And it absolutely could not happen again.