Page 75 of Twisted Throne
A smile spread across his face as our server appeared again and filled our glasses with the bubbly, sparkling champagne.
Paul lifted his glass to me. “A toast?”
“To what?” I raised my glass to his and waited.
A wicked grin spread across his face as we clinked glasses.
“To the things that never happened, and to the things that did.”
Epilogue
Gia
“I still can’t believe all of this is real.”
I was standing in the middle of a large, airy lobby. The walls were painted a soft yellow, which set off the words emblazoned across the wall beside a silhouette of a ballerina in mid-leap. And the words themselves—“LaRosa Studio of Dance”. Something I could never have dreamed of when I was taking temp jobs and shoving a sofa across my door every night.
Scattered around the room were comfortable, but also durable, armchairs and couches. A wooden magazine rank filled with various dance magazines sat beside the marble-topped reception counter. It was a far cry from the small studios that I had gone to, with their decade-old magazines and rusty metal folding chairs.
“I can assure you it is.” Paul stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. The heat from his body enveloped me and I relaxed back into his embrace.
“Mom would have loved this,” I said softly.
Paul didn’t say anything but pulled me tighter against him. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. As I felt the warmth of his chest pressed against my back I felt more comfortable and secure than I’d ever been. Mom had certainly always kept me protective and safe, even at the expense of rejecting her own possible happiness with Angelo. But I didn’t need protection anymore. She had raised me strong enough that I could now fit in perfectly into the world that she had tried to protect me from.
I finally forced myself to pull away. Clasping Paul’s hand in mine, I walked down the hallway past the counter leading off from the lobby. It featured enlarged photos of famous dancers—Isadora Duncan, Misty Copeland, Mikhail Baryshnikov—and I hoped to soon fill it in with photos of my own students. I’d set aside funds for yearly scholarships, and I couldn’t wait to give them out.
In addition to the four studio rooms, there was an office and two large storage areas in the back, one for sets and props, and another for costumes. Entering the main studio, I turned on the lights and dropped Paul’s hand as I stepped into the center of the room, soaking everything in. The chalky scent of rosin had already drifted into the room and I envisioned a new generation of dancers, getting expert training in all areas. What I wasn’t proficient in, I’d hired master teachers for. Whether an amateur dancer or someone training to go on to dance with a professional company, I would offer support for all skill levels and ages in everything from ballet, tap, and jazz to belly dancing and ballroom. And Lucy had enthusiastically volunteered to help with the Kinderdance littles after school. Which was a doubly good thing: first, it might keep her nosy butt out of trouble, and secondly, I was hoping that chasing around a bunch of toddlers in tutus would burn off some of her crazy energy. I’m not sure how many more ‘girls’ nights’ I can take.
I had also made arrangements with the after school program that Angelo already sponsored to offer free or reduced prices on classes for those who couldn’t afford the fees. Both myself and Paul wanted to be sure that no one would be stopped from participating because of cost.
I walked across the wooden floor, heels clicking, to where Paul still stood, a few feet from the doorway.
“Come here,” I clasped his hand in mine and pulled him along with me to the center of the room.
When we turned, our reflection stared back at us from the large, highly polished mirrored wall. We were headed toLa Villetta—the grand opening of the studio was tomorrow and we were having a celebratory dinner there with Angelo and the rest of the family. But I just couldn’t resist stopping by to check it out one more time in the quiet, before the halls were filled with chattering students and muffled music.
We resembled a couple from one of those high-end fashion magazines I used to treat myself to. Paul was in a dark gray suit that complemented my softer gray silk sheath dress perfectly. I leaned my head against his shoulder and placed my left hand on his chest.
“I never would have got you a ring that big if I knew you were just going to stare at it all the time.” Paul teased me, glancing down at the engagement ring on my finger. The studio lights glittered off of the large solitaire diamond in the center, and the smaller ones that encircled it.
“Oh my god, I wasn’t staring at my ring!” I smacked him lightly on the chest.
“Then what were you staring at?” He grabbed my wrist before I could smack him again and my heart caught in my throat. “Was it possibly me,soubrette?” He grinned at me, eyes flashing.
I hated it when he was right.
“And just why do you think I’d be looking at you?” I was trying to be coy but I didn’t need to glance in the mirrors to know that my face was flushed.
He pulled me in closer and moved both of his hands to my hips, pressing my body firmly against his. I did take a small victory in the fact that his heart was pounding just as much as mine was at least.
“Hmmm…let’s see. Maybe you were thinking about something like this?”
One of his hands moved to the small of my back, and the other began to slide slowly down my hip to my thigh. Inch by inch I felt the warmth of his fingers pressing into my flesh through the thin silk of my dress.
When his fingers slipped underneath my dress and brushed their way up my thigh I pushed my hips forward and whimpered softly. His arm around my back kept me steady and held me firmly in place as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“We can’t…ohh…we’ll be…late…” I managed to squeak out a feeble protest even as I clung to him and closed my eyes.