Page 33 of Slow Burn

While I stood self-consciously on stage, Gabriele had positioned himself in the front row of the theatre’s auditorium, which loomed dark and empty behind him.

His phone was in his hand and it was pointing towards me.

There was clearly an expectation that I was going to do something, but I’d drawn a massive blank as to what.

‘Social media really isn’t my thing,’ I whimpered pathetically, hoping that would go some way to explaining why I was currently frozen on stage like a rabbit in the headlights.

I’d been trying to get out of doing this for at least forty-five minutes, but it seemed to be having little effect – Gabriele was insistent.

‘You need to reconnect with your clients, si ? You are away on this exciting dance journey. If they feel like you are thinking about them, that you are taking them with you, giving them behind-the-scenes access to something they would not usually get to see, then they will feel special.’

He had a point, even if he had surprised me with his insight.

I hadn’t imagined he’d be a social media afficionado either, but when I checked out his Instagram – something I’d forced myself not to do up until that point – I was pleasantly surprised.

Sure, there was indeed the odd gratuitously topless shot (and of course he looked amazing), but mostly it was videos of Gabriele breaking down a dance, teaching his thousands of followers a particular step, talking about the history of the rumba or whatever.

His content was surprisingly engaging – he appeared very natural, even funny at times, and I wondered whether a career in TV presenting might beckon.

Because of his usual glowering mood, or at least that’s what I’d call it, I’d never have imagined he’d come across so warmly on screen.

‘We don’t all have hidden talents, you know,’ I grumbled. ‘I’m not good on camera.’

‘I do not believe it. And anyway, how do you know if you have never even tried?’ he reasoned.

‘Let’s just say I’m hazarding a guess. Come on then, let’s get this over with,’ I said, positioning myself in the centre of the stage. ‘Is here okay?’

‘Hmmm,’ said Gabriele, twisting the camera first one way and then the other.

‘There is not much light in here, but it will have to do. So, a reminder – we will tease this on Instagram, but only your members will have access to the full video via the James Jive newsletter. You will say something about where you are, why you are here, what kind of dances you are performing. You might want to mention me…’

‘Oh really? I might have guessed you’d want to get in on the act!’ I joked.

‘I will start recording on “action”,’ he said, smiling to himself.

I nodded in approval, feeling a shot of nerves.

I wasn’t lying when I said I was terrible on camera.

Sedi had been on at me for years to do more on the James Jive Instagram page.

She even tried to persuade me to set up a TikTok account, but I’d drawn the line at that.

She currently had twenty-five thousand followers on there, apparently, which sounded impressive, but in the case of the studio, I didn’t think the majority of our clientele would even be on TikTok, since it was mostly made up of couples in their thirties, busy mums and senior citizens.

I thought I had a better chance with Instagram, and I posted the odd thing – perhaps if we had a new teacher, or a new class, or photos from one of our events.

But I’d always made sure that I didn’t appear in any of the shots, even if Sedi had tried to persuade me that I was the ‘face of James Jive’.

I’d called her bluff and said that she should shoot some footage at the studio for herself, put it out there to her thousands of TikTok followers, and she’d half-heartedly agreed, but to date it had never happened and I knew better than to bother pushing it.

‘And… action!’ yelled Gabriele.

I looked at the camera, which I could barely see because of the darkness and the fact it was a tiny, black, slimline phone, but even so, looking at a piece of tech equipment was definitely preferable to looking into Gabriele’s eyes, which were altogether distracting, so I went with it.

‘Hello, everyone. It’s me, Lira, from James Jive.

I hope you’re all well and I’m so sorry I haven’t been around for the last few weeks.

As some of you may have heard, I had the opportunity to join a new dance show called Slow Burn .

We started the run in the West End and now I’m in Spain, would you believe?

Here I am at the Teatre Apolo in Barcelona.

It’s four hours before showtime and my dance partner, Gabriele Riccitelli, and I have arrived early to run through the four duets we have in the show.

We thought it might be fun to take you along with us… ’

I smiled at what I thought was the camera and waited for Gabriele to stop recording.

‘And… cut!’ he said.

He put his phone down and looked at me with suspicion.

‘I thought you said you were not good on camera?’

I walked closer to the edge of the stage. ‘Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I thought, once I got going. I just pictured my clients and imagined chatting to them at home in the studio. It took the pressure off.’

He nodded, impressed.

‘So, now let me set up the camera and we will show them a few steps from each of our dances. Something they can copy and do at home,’ said Gabriele.

I frowned. ‘Do you really think they’d be interested?’

‘Yes,’ he said, putting his phone in his pocket and leaping up the steps onto the stage. ‘These reels I do on Instagram get the most views. People like to be taught something. And there is the thrill of being shown a step by a professional dancer. They will like it, I promise you.’

‘They might be thrilled to see you, that’s true,’ I said. ‘In fact, chuck me your phone. I want you to introduce yourself, too.’

He shrugged, handing me his phone. ‘Sure.’

I took a few steps back, framing Gabriele so that the camera caught a glimpse of the stage and the auditorium behind. I thought some of the studio’s female clients might enjoy seeing exactly who I had been dancing with since they saw me last!

‘Just open the top button of your shirt for me?’ I suggested cheekily.

Gabriele laughed and did as he was told. ‘Just one button?’

‘Yes!’ I said, holding my hand out to stop him before he got carried away. ‘Action!’

He looked at the camera, making sure his smouldering good looks translated onto the screen. My clients would be watching this on their phones or laptops back in Castlebury, so he needed to go big. And he definitely did.

‘I am Gabriele Riccitelli,’ he said, as though he was talking to a group of fans live in the room.

He was so natural, I wondered whether he’d had professional training.

‘Today, I will be performing in the show Slow Burn with your very own teacher, Lira James, as my partner for four spectacular duets. We do the rumba, a classic American smooth, a fun and energetic salsa and a very intense Argentine tango together. The Argentine tango is a favourite of both Lira’s and mine, perhaps because I was taught how to dance by my grandmother, who is from Buenos Aires.

I learned the heart of the dance from the very best – the locals who dance it daily on the street.

And today, we will teach you a very short routine to do at home.

When we return to England, Lira and I would love to see what you have all come up with. ’

He gave the camera – my clients – a dazzling smile and I stopped the recording.

‘Wow,’ I said, blown away. ‘You’re going to have them eating out of your hand. I’m pretty sure they won’t be leaving now. Did you mean it?’

‘Mean what?’ he asked, clearly pleased with himself as he walked towards me, grabbing me around the waist.

For a second, I was self-conscious, worried that another cast member might arrive early and see us.

But then I thought: so what if they did?

We weren’t doing anything wrong, and even though I’d tried to convince myself that getting involved with Gabriele would be unprofessional, the reality was it happened all the time on tour.

Luca had said the same thing. People got close.

People hooked up. And part of the reason for telling myself that it would be frowned upon by the rest of the company was that it gave me an extra layer of defence, another reason not to go there.

And the more reasons I had, the more likely I would be to stick to the vow I’d made to myself: do not fall for Gabriele all over again.

Last night had been perfect, and it seemed as though Gabriele felt the same, but then there was his track record.

He’d clearly hurt Daniella in the past – was I setting myself up to be left heartbroken all over again, too?

Even my mum had warned me off him. Was I crazy to get involved?

‘Did you mean it about coming to the studio to see my members dance? They’d love to see you in person; a bona fide TV star. One of the best Latin dancers in the world,’ I said.

‘They already have one of the best Latin dancers in the world as their teacher. They should be very happy already.’

I laughed. ‘I’m not sure they see me that way. You, on the other hand…’

He put the palms of his hands on the small of my back, pulling me closer.

If I’d imagined my life a month ago, before any of this happened, I’d never in a million years have thought I’d be standing on a huge, opulent stage in Barcelona, under the switched-off lights, the smell of drapes and dust in the air, in the arms of the man I’d literally dreamed about for the last thirteen years.

‘I will come. Of course I will come,’ he whispered, stroking his thumb tenderly across my cheek.

‘Still up for recording a few steps of the Argentine tango?’ I asked, thinking it would be safer to get back to business before I declared undying love for him on the spot.