Page 5 of Slow Burn

As morning light filtered through my eyelids, I slowly became aware that somebody was lying under the duvet next to me.

This was not unusual in itself – I was a single man, of course I had women in my bed on occasion, and it was never difficult to find someone who wanted to spend time with me.

What was unusual was that she was still here in the morning.

Usually, I made some excuse about having to get up early so that she’d leave and I could sleep in peace.

I must have crashed out before I could insist upon it.

On the pillow next to me, Jasmine’s dark hair fanned out as she stirred. At least I thought her name was Jasmine – we hadn’t actually talked much the previous night.

I reached over and ran my fingers along her arm, tugging at her hand. She moaned as her eyes opened.

‘ Ciao ,’ I whispered.

‘Hey,’ she said, sleepily.

I rolled over so that my naked body hovered above hers. She was here now, looking sexy as hell. What difference would another ten minutes make?

‘This is a very pleasant way to be woken up,’ she said, pulling me on top of her.

If we were quick enough, I could be at the gym by 8.30.

Several hours later, I tried to look enthusiastic as Carlos ran through the names of the girls I would be paired with that afternoon, but I could not help thinking this casting session was going to go just as badly as all the others.

Maybe I was the problem? Maybe it was not that the female dancers could not connect with me, but that I could not connect with them?

Not a single one of the routines I had performed as part of this audition process had felt special enough, which was strange, because all the dancers were professionals – exceptionally talented and capable ones at that.

They were perfect, just not perfect for what Carlos and I had in mind.

I would be headlining a show on the West End stage for the very first time and I wanted it to be unforgettable; to have the audience flying to their feet, screaming for more.

Was that too much to ask? Was I setting my standards too high?

I recognized most of the names from years of competing, and some I had even been paired with before.

‘Daniella Thompson?’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I have told you that is not going to work.’

Carlos put on his best soothing tone. I had never known a man who could go from terrifying to charming so quickly; to be screaming instructions at dancers who were not performing his steps properly one minute, to getting exactly what he needed from you the next.

‘She might be our best option, Gabriele. You have said no to absolutely everyone we have put in front of you. We have given you world champions, West End stars, Italian, British, American – you name it, you have danced with them all.’

‘But you agree with me, right?’ I said to him. ‘Not one of these girls has blown us away. Come on, admit it, we are in trouble here. And it sounds like you think we are going to have to compromise.’

Carlos sighed. ‘I am still hoping not. But Daniella you know very well. You were partners once, you know what makes each other tick, what your weaknesses are.’

‘I do not have any weaknesses,’ I said. Carlos raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Not on the dance floor, anyway,’ I added.

Off of it there were many, but that was another story.

Dancing with Daniella again would be fine, even if it was a complicated situation that I did not particularly want to get myself into again. But in my opinion, fine wasn’t going to be enough to sell out every seat of every night of our West End run, followed by a European tour.

‘And who is this?’ I said, poking my finger at the last name on the list. ‘Lira James? I have never even heard of her.’

Carlos cleared his throat. ‘That is an interesting question…’ he said enigmatically. ‘I want you to trust me on this one. I’m not going to tell you too much because I know what you are going to say. Just dance with her. And then I’ll tell you how she ended up on my list.’

I sighed. ‘Fine, but she had better be worth whatever it is you’re hiding.’

I knew I was being difficult, but getting it right was important, and we were already running way behind on rehearsal time.

We needed to find a leading lady and fast, otherwise the entire thing was going to be a disaster, with my name attached to it.

If it went wrong, I doubted I would be cast as the lead in a show as big as this ever again.

While Carlos taught the steps to the ten girls in another room, I stood alone in front of the mirror that covered the entire front wall of the studio.

I went over and over the routine Carlos and I had created, checking every movement, the placement of every hand, of each foot.

I had a photographic memory for dance steps – somebody only needed to show me once and they were locked in, which had always served me well for auditions.

And it meant I could focus on connection and performance rather than remembering where I was supposed to be putting my feet.

After I had run through the routine several times, Carlos’s assistant, Emily, rushed into the room and turned on the music, ramping it up loud.

‘Sound check,’ she explained. ‘We’re nearly ready to start.’

I took a few glugs of water and towelled myself down. I would try not to be negative – perhaps the perfect dance partner was in the next room, waiting to audition. Maybe one of them was going to surprise me.

‘How are they looking?’ I asked Emily.

‘Not bad. One or two standouts.’

There was this mysterious woman on the bottom of the list that I didn’t hold out much hope for, but at least I knew that everyone else was talented and established. If the chemistry was there as well, we could hopefully make it work, but the problem was, it never seemed to be, not to my standards.

Evocative Argentine tango music pumped through the studio and I used the hairband on my wrist to tie my shoulder-length curls back into a pony tail, getting them off my face, preparing to begin.

This could be the moment the dance partner of my dreams entered the room, and rehearsals for Slow Burn could really get started.

Carlos swept in with his clipboard, scraping back a chair and taking a place at the table. Three men in shirts and smart trousers followed suit: the show’s producer, director and tour manager.

‘Okay, Gabriele, we begin,’ said Carlos, picking up his pen, preparing to make notes. ‘Be nice, si ?’

‘I am always nice,’ I growled at Carlos, keeping my voice low.

Although I knew that was not strictly true.

I stalked into the middle of the dance floor, checking myself out in the mirror one more time. I looked good, and I was going to dance good, too. Whoever was about to come through those doors was about to be flung around the dance floor like they never had before.

The doors opened and in walked the first girl – I remembered her from a show in Italy and already knew that she was not the one, but I smiled at her anyway and pretended I was excited to dance with her again after so long.

I was not, but I knew how to fake enthusiasm.

Turning on the charm when needed was like second nature to me.

Actually feeling it? That was another matter.

The ninth girl through the door was Daniella.

I knew she was not right for the job either, but given my lack of enthusiasm for the other eight girls I had danced with over the last hour or so, she might very well have to be.

The thing was, our relationship was complicated – we had been dance partners then lovers, we had not spoken for years, and now we were kind of friends.

Our relationship was all over the place.

Plus, I had the feeling she wanted more from me than I would ever be able to give her.

She was hot, I had to admit that – a tall, willowy blonde with a great work ethic and a dirty sense of humour.

But we did not connect on a deeper level, and I knew our relationship would never progress outside of the bedroom.

In some ways that was ideal – who wanted the inconvenience of actually having feelings for someone?

! And she was a great dancer – but she did not rock my world.

And unless somebody rocked my world, there was always this emotional distance that I could not get past, great sex or no great sex.

Daniella strutted into the studio, as full of sass and confidence as ever.

‘Long time no see,’ she purred, strutting over to join me on the dance floor.

I nodded a greeting, my eyes sweeping over her body – she was wearing black leggings, a cropped black top and heeled Latin shoes. Her blonde hair was hanging loose down to her shoulder blades, and she had pulled it back off her face at the front with a cute little clip.

As we prepared to start the routine, she whispered in my ear.

‘You’re looking well, Gabriele.’

I ignored her comment, instead placing my hand on the small of her back, a gesture that was familiar to me after years of dancing together, and more. We should be focusing on the routine and only the routine.

‘Fancy a drink at mine after?’ she asked, keeping her voice low enough that Carlos and the rest of the team could not hear.

‘Let us just dance,’ I replied tersely as Emily restarted the track.

‘Five, six, seven, eight!’ yelled Carlos.

I began to move, my body complying perfectly with what my mind was telling it to do, letting the infectious music transport me to a hot, humid basement bar in Buenos Aires, the sort of place I had been to many times before.

Daniella was good. It might even be the best I had seen her dance.

And perhaps it would not be so bad if she got a place on the tour – she was talented, and fun.

It could definitely be worse. But was the team of men in suits – Carlos excluded, obviously – sitting behind that table really telling me that this was the best we could do?

Did they not want a sell-out show every night, with standing ovations and five-star reviews?

Because I could guarantee that we were not going to get any of those things with Daniella as the female lead.

Afterwards, she exchanged a few words with Carlos and gave him her availability for the next couple of weeks, which he wrote down – without catching my eye, I noticed.

He was no doubt thinking the same thing I was, but perhaps was a little more resigned to the fact that it was looking likely she would be cast. As she left the studio and opened the door, she blew me a kiss.

‘Come round whenever you’re ready. You know where I am,’ she purred.

Shaking my head dismissively, because I had more pressing things on my mind, I turned back to Carlos for some reassurance that this was all going to be fine; that if Daniella was the one, we were going to make it work, somehow.

Annoyingly, though, he seemed distracted and was not looking at me at all, his attention instead drawn to a point over my shoulder.

‘Lira. Thank you for coming to meet with us,’ said Carlos, waving somebody in to the studio.

This must be the tenth dancer on the list – I wondered if she was a friend of a friend Carlos had agreed to see as a favour. She could not be that amazing if I had never heard of her, could she?

‘Gabriele, meet Lira James,’ said Carlos.

I sighed. I was pretty exhausted after a day of castings and, quite frankly, all I wanted to do was leave. Still, I could not be rude to this Lira James. It would only upset Carlos.

I swung around to greet the newcomer, but when we locked eyes she stopped dead in her tracks.

Meanwhile, I felt like every ounce of blood I possessed had left my body, so much so that I half expected to look down and see a murky puddle of it on the sprung wooden floor beneath.

I did not even try to speak, I knew it would be impossible.

It was her. Of all people! Lira, Carlos had said she was called, yet I had known her only as Li .

She had never told me her full name, nor her last. I would never have been able to find her, even if I had wanted to, and yet here she was, standing in front of me looking… utterly beautiful. Even more spectacular than she had that night in Paris all those years ago – thirteen years, to be precise.

My eyes were immediately drawn to the tantalizing strip of chestnut brown skin visible between the hem of her top and the waistband of her leggings, just one of the parts of her body I had run my hands over that night.

I remembered marvelling at how soft and smooth she had felt before proceeding to peel off her dress so that I could feel even more of her.

I shook my head, dislodging the image from my mind, trying to stop my face burning up right in front of her.

Sure, she might look gorgeous with that deliciously curvy body and those dark eyes you could lose yourself in if you were not careful, but getting too close to Lira James, as she was apparently called, was highly inadvisable.

It would only end badly, as I knew all too well, and once this audition was over, I could avoid her again, for the rest of my life, preferably, and all would be well.

Except, I remembered how brilliantly she danced; of course I had never forgotten that. And I already knew that, given why we were here – her audition, our dance – she was about to become one very big problem for me.