Chapter 5 Taking chances

"You were beautiful as always." Gregory kisses my cheek and envelops me in his arms. "Keep a watch on your landing on the right foot."

He moves on to Simon without sparing me another glance. I gulp, but mask my nervousness with a smile. Gregory is the choreographer, and I have been one of his principal dancers for two years. He loves the way I dance, but if he sees something wrong, he will move on to the next best thing. That's what choreographers do. There are a ton of ballerinas he could choose from.

"You good?" Simon frowns down at me.

If he can see something wrong on my face, then I'm not doing enough to hide my true feelings. I've learnt quite early on that you never show the other dancers your deck of cards.

"I'm perfect, you wanna grab a drink?" I wasn't planning on going out. In fact, I need to get home and ice my ankle, but I need something to take the edge off.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind is telling me that I'm lying.

I want Black to corner me again. Especially after that disastrous lunch with Caroline. And now Gregory's words.

It feels like I'm unraveling at the seams, and I need something to put me back together.

I'm playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse here, but maybe if I draw Black out, I could unveil his identity. Just in case the cops show up on my doorstep demanding answers.

"It's on you, though." Simon winks. "I just moved into a new apartment, I'm broke as fuck."

Drinks are always on me when I go out with everyone, that's why they like hanging around me. That's how I also know that these are not my people.

They want something from me, just like the Cargills.

Is that why I'm hiding from Ben these days? Is that why maybe I'm attracted to some dangerous guy who I don't even know?

What is it that he wants from me?

I don't even know who he is. Does he know who I am, or did the incident with that guy bring us together in some bloody twist of fate?

I don't dwell on any other questions and worries that flood my mind, though. I ignore another one of Ben's phone calls as I get dressed in a sexy black dress that I threw in my bag. Maybe I already knew then that I wouldn't be going home straight after the show.

And also because I know Black will follow me once again.

I don't see Black's motorcycle following us to the club. I wash the disappointment down with one too many glasses of champagne, and I let the music flow through my body on the dance floor.

The only other thing more freeing than dancing is that sense of danger I've been feeling lately. I know I'm in trouble because I've never been this reckless before. I always follow the rules, but right now, the combination of the alcohol and the two pain pills I popped before the show is definitely going to my head.

"I'm out!" I shout at Simon over the music.

"The night has just begun!" He throws his hands in the air to the beat. "And drinks were on you!"

"I got it, enjoy!" I blow him a kiss and leave a few hundred dollars at the bar to cover his drinks.

What was I thinking coming out to a club anyway? I've gone and lost my mind. I never do this during a run, maybe just one drink, but not this.

And I never ignore Ben's calls as long as I have, even if his mother is a certified bitch.

I get my keys from my bag when I exit the club, ignoring the bunch of guys calling me. I'm feeling brave, so I throw them the middle finger over my shoulder.

I shouldn't be driving. My head is buzzing, so I scan the busy street for a cab.

"Yo bitch!" One of the idiots calls from behind me. "You think you're too good for us or something?"

Oh God, I might have become a magnet for assholes. The alcohol is also not doing me any favors, because I'm feeling too bold when I swing around and come chest to chest with one of them.

He smiles salaciously at me. "What's your name, beautiful?"

He smells like whiskey and bad choices, and he might have been considered a tad bit good-looking if he didn't look like he would keel over in a drunken stupor any second.

I'm twisted.

There's no other way to describe who I've become, because as soon as I hear the now-familiar rumble of that motorcycle, I shove the guy away from me. "Fuck you!"

Anger burns in his eyes as he looks unbelievingly at me. "Did you just push me, you whore?"

His words aren't even cold before a figure in black steps in front of me and hits the guy square in the face. His friends, who were with him, all step back like pussies when he falls to the ground.

I can practically feel the dominance from Black when he stands over the guy, but he looks knocked out.

Like a beggar waiting for a dollar, I just stand there and gape at Black. My hero. My Dark Knight.

I didn't even see the helmet in his hand, not until he put it on my head. I watch him in utter fascination as he gets on the bike and scoots forward to make room for me, his head turned towards me.

Anybody could have recognized me at any second, and all hell would have broken loose. What would I even tell Ben if some tabloid reports seeing me getting on the back of a bike?

But my feet move before my brain catches up, and I lift my leg over the seat and scoot forward until my crotch meets Black's ass, my arms going around his tight middle as if it has always belonged there.

He starts the bike with screeching tyres, and I have to hold onto him even tighter as he speeds away from the club.

Exhilaration rushes through my blood.

And I throw my head back and laugh.