The Billionaire's Ballet: A Contemporary Billionaire Friends to Lovers Romance (Friends with Benefits) (7 page)

And it happened.

He leaned in and stopped my words with those lips. His kiss was gentle, inquisitive, a question I didn’t fully understand.

But I answered it. I’d silently compared every kiss in my life to this imagined one, but reality was so much better. He tasted like toast and coffee, slow languid mornings with just us two.

I kissed him back, my mouth parting for him, and he dragged me closer. I moved the flowers to one side and allowed him to draw me against him. Now I could smell laundry detergent and a hint of aftershave. His face was smooth and I let my free hand wander along his jaw, my fingers grazing his cheek.

We were here, after all these years, here.

His tongue sought mine and I met him with eagerness. All the moments I had dreamed of lined up but didn’t compare to being here. I was lost, so lost, loving the feel of his chest against mine and his possessive hand pressing against my back to keep me close.

We lingered, neither pressing nor drawing back, just exploring, tasting, discovering this unknown part of who we had always been to each other. My eyes pricked with tears, remembering young Quinn, broken over his father, missing Mrs. B when she retired from the family. I had been there. Always.

We parted at last, gasping. Although our mouths separated, our bodies stayed together. Quinn lingered near my face, his nose nudging my cheek near my ear. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of him, the soft tickling of his skin as it shifted the loose tendrils of hair at my temple.

Every inch of me was alert and seeking him. My mind couldn’t even comprehend that this was happening. It had been only a moment from my imagination until now.

“The party tonight,” he whispered against my skin. “I want you there.”

I tensed just a fraction, but he felt it.

“You don’t want to come?” he asked.

I drew away to give myself some space. “Pearl said it was for your tennis instructor.”

He shook his head. “I sent her away yesterday.”

“Really? Why?”

Quinn took a step back. My body cooled quickly. I brought the bouquet back between us, holding it against my body in the crook of one arm.

“She was gold-digging,” he said. His mouth turned down. “She wasn’t even a qualified pro. Just an opportunist.”

“Oh,” I said. “Does that happen a lot?”

He ran his hands through his hair and gave me a sheepish expression. “I’ve been known to fall for it before.”

I thought of the three engagements. He must be a target a lot. “I’m sorry,” I said. “In our world, in ballet, there are also a lot of people who only want to know you for what you do, not who you are.”

Quinn stepped close again and grasped my free hand. “You do understand! I knew you would.” He drew me against his side, at an angle so he wouldn’t squash the bouquet again. His hand pressed my head against his shoulder. “You’re one of the few people in this world I trust all the way to the bone.”

I flooded with happiness. He got it. He finally understood. I bit my lip to keep from blurting out how much I loved him, how I always had. I would tell him soon, but not yet. I couldn’t scare him.

“You didn’t cancel the party?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “It’s just a summer thing now. And I would love for you to be there.”

“Are they still all fancy like they used to be?” I asked.

“Say the word and I’ll require black tie,” he said.

I laughed and lifted my head. “With only half a day’s notice?”

“Anything for our Claremont ballerina.” His finger lifted my chin so that I looked up at him. “I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve been completely out of sorts since I saw you three days ago.”

The little girl inside me soared. “I’ll come to your party,” I said.

“You’ll be the guest of honor,” he said. He stepped back and bowed. “And in honor of your prestigious presence, it will be themed A Night at the Ballet. Black tie required.”

I laughed. “Quinn, you’re crazy.”

He shook his head. “Nah, everybody’s always looking for an excuse to dust off their tuxes. Pray for the poor dry cleaners this afternoon, besieged by rush orders.”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

Quinn backed away as if he was heading for the door, then abruptly he rushed forward for another stolen kiss. This one was different, eager, seeking, and full of promise.

When he let me go, he said, “I can’t wait to see you. Shall I fetch you at your mother’s house?”

I nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

“Nine on the number,” he said.

And with that, he turned and strode out of the studio.

When the door clicked behind him, I sank to the floor.

Had that just happened?

Had it really?

I leaped back up and pirouetted around the room. A party! A party! A party!

I was going to a Claremont party — as the guest of honor.

I couldn’t wait to tell Mother.

Chapter 10

8:45.

Mom sat in her chair, working on a new set of toe shoes for me. I told her I could sew them myself, but she insisted, cutting out the extra fabric and taking down the instep so it would fit my foot perfectly.

I made new shoes for every show. They broke down remarkably fast during the grueling rehearsal plus show season when I danced as much as ten hours a day. A dead shoe was torment if it happened in the middle of a performance. You were always safer getting a new one.

I paced the living room for the hundredth time. I’d been ready a while. Ballerinas did their own hair and makeup for shows, so once I kicked into preparation mode, I was ready within a half hour.

The dress I wore was sparkly sapphire, the perfect color for my inky hair and pale skin. It made my dullish gray eyes seem to have some blue in them.

Two perilously thin straps held the dress in place. It floated over my body like water falling, ending in a flirty twirl of extra fabric that would flare out if I turned.

As someone who danced in front of large crowds wearing only a tutu and a bodice, I was not afraid of anyone seeing any part of me. The only other thing I wore was the barest jewel-blue panties, scarcely more than a thong. If I spun the dress hard enough, they would show. But I’d save it for a private moment.

My body tingled at the thought of it. This was going to happen with Quinn. I knew it. I’d seen his party nights a hundred times. The entrance. The greetings. Choosing a girl. Letting the party die down.

And then the stables. We’d dance there. Alone.

The horses and barn had been where we’d become friends. It was fitting.

I popped back into my bedroom to check my hair once more. I had gone full ballerina with an intricate tight knot of elaborate braids. Half my fantasy was having Quinn take them down.

I was getting it all.

I smudged my eye shadow a bit more. Stage makeup would have been too much for a party, even an evening one, so I had dropped it down a notch. No thick eyeliner. No fake eyelashes. But the effect was not subtle. I wanted to look as different as possible from that kid-friend Quinn used to know.

My body shivered and I wrapped my arms around my waist. The flowers Quinn brought me were all over the house in every vase we owned. A few that had gotten crushed during our kiss were pressed into one of my books.

I stepped away from the mirror and twirled in the dress. With a slow spin, I saw just a hint of knees and thigh. Big spin, yes, the barely there panties.

I was horrible.

I plopped on my bed and giggled. This was going to be the best night of my life.

Mom came to my doorway. “I’m worried,” she said.

I turned from her disapproving face. “I’m a big girl,” I said.

“But you have a blind eye when it comes to Quinn.”

“Love is supposed to be blind.” I felt like a chastised child, and my excited bubble was deflating.

“Only to the things that don’t matter. Toilet seat placement. Big ears. Not fundamental personality flaws.”

I didn’t want to argue this. I stood up from the bed.

“Those shoes are bad for your foot form,” Mom said.

I glanced down at the three-inch glossy black heels. She obviously hadn’t seen the Louboutins, which were way worse. “I’ll be fine,” I said.

Mom pinched her lips together and fiddled with the end of her head scarf.

I crossed the room and brought her close. In the shoes, I towered over her. “I’m only here a month. It will be fine. I’ll return to New York and he’ll be back here and it won’t matter any more than it did.”

“I just hate to see you hurt,” she said. “I always worried about living with people who had so much money. It twists things.”

“Well, I’m a poor working girl,” I said. “I went with fame over fortune.”

“A ballerina’s working life is short,” Mom said. “Anything can end it. Injury. Serious illness.” She hesitated. “Pregnancy.”

So now we got to the real issue. “I don’t think Quinn is following in his father’s footsteps,” I said. “He won’t be marrying to knock up women and get rid of them.”

“Of course not,” Mom said. “That was flat-out pathological. He only got away with it because of his money.”

“Did you know him very well?” I asked. “Quinn’s father?”

“Of course. He hired me.”

“You think he screwed up his kids?”

Mom sighed. “We all do. Even if we try not to. Bennett seems all right. And Estelle was a good girl. Things are just different now. With money comes addiction and entitlement.”

The sound of a knock on the front door startled us.

“Well, at least he’s prompt,” she said.

My heart hammered. It was time. I was going inside the walls.

I pictured walking beside Quinn through the gate and into the party. Or maybe we’d go around the front so he could enter through the French doors, as was his habit, at least back when I lived here before.

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

And sucked air right in again.

My mind felt erased.

It was…a carriage. A horse-drawn carriage covered in fairy lights and led by two mares I didn’t recognize.

A man in a coat with tails opened the door to the carriage. “Your ride,” he said. “Please watch your step.”

I couldn’t move.

“Good Lord,” my mother said. I turned back to her. She stood in the doorway, her hand pressed to her chest.

I resisted an “I told you so,” and took the driver’s hand as I placed my foot carefully on the step leading up to the carriage.

“Don’t lose a shoe,” the man said with a wink.

“Let me know when it’s almost midnight,” I said.

I ducked inside the dark interior of the coach. When my eyes adjusted, I saw him sitting on one of the bench seats.

Quinn.

He was completely decked in a full tux, no jeans this time. His black jacket offset the crisp white shirt.

I could scarcely breathe.

“You are a vision,” he said.

“You got a carriage!” I said.

“Well, a classic ballerina should have a classic entrance.” He reached out his hand and I took it. “Sit next to me. Although, I have to admit, medieval transportation isn’t particularly comfortable.”

I sat on the cushioned bench. He was right. The seat was a little too high, and even though the upholstery was velvety soft, we both had to lean forward to avoid bumping our heads on the curved wall that led to the ceiling.

The driver closed the door and we were doused in darkness.

A white rectangle of light appeared. Quinn’s phone.

“Not very period,” he said.

I had to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

“I was planning this big ride around the estate,” he said. “But now I think I might get a concussion.”

I understood what he meant the moment the carriage lurched into motion. Both our heads cracked against the ornate carved trim above the bench.

“Ouch!” we said simultaneously and both bent over with laughter.

“We should take a shortcut, right?” Quinn asked.

“It’s really about the entrance anyway,” I said.

Quinn turned an antique latch that held the window closed and pushed the small glass pane open. He stuck his head through and called out, “To the party!”

A quick rap on the front wall signaled the driver’s acknowledgment of the request.

Quinn ducked back inside. “So maybe I should have read the reviews on the carriage before I had one sent.”

I kept a hand between my head and the curved roof. “No wonder everyone died on the Oregon Trail. They all had brain damage.”

Quinn pushed down on the overly bouncy upholstery. Its springiness was definitely creating the problem. “I think this answers the question about whether Cinderella and the prince got it on during the ride back to the castle.”

“Quinn!”

“Well, I can’t even make a move on you without cracking your skull.” He leaned in as if we were going to kiss and another jolt of the carriage caused us to crash together, my forehead banging his nose.

“You okay?” he asked, trying to press his hand to my head but poking my eye instead.

I leaned away with a laugh. “Maybe we shouldn’t sit too close!”

The carriage slowed and I peeked behind the curtain on the glass inset in the door.

We were at the back gate of the estate. Two boys in catering outfits were opening the double doors.

“We’re riding all the way in?” I asked.

“I’ve always wanted to make an entrance like this,” Quinn said.

“
Everyone
has dreamed of an entrance like this,” I said.

He laughed, a sound I knew so well growing up that I would have recognized it if I heard it anywhere, in any situation.

We moved forward with another lurch, and Quinn reached out to steady me. I held on to his strong arm. The sensation that I was living out a fantasy was so intense that I wanted to pinch myself. I was glad for the jostling carriage, as it was something not quite perfect that helped me stay in the moment.

Because all this was real. Really real.

When our movement settled down, I pushed back the curtain again. Through the thick glass, I could see the blurred glow of the fairy lights circling the patio and pool. Figures moved in the background, but I couldn’t quite make them out.

I sat back. “Thank you,” I said to Quinn. “It’s unbelievable.”