Page 56 of The Reborn

“Is everything okay?” Reni asked the next day, her blue eyes concerned when I came out of the bathroom after a particularly bad bout of vomiting.

I nodded. “I’m good. Must’ve eaten something that didn’t agree with me last night.”

She tilted her head, clearly not believing me. “And the two nights before that? You look like shit, Olivia. Do you need to talk to Mr. Donato about taking a break?”

“No!” I actually yelped.

But God, no. For some reason, showing him weakness, even now, made me squirm. I wanted to show him I could do this. That I was strong. He had insisted on secrecy when we started our affair and I’d readily agreed. I wasn’t stupid. I understood the optics of a teacher and a student, even if we were consenting adults outside of the dance studio. Still, there were times, in my deepest heart of hearts, I wished he cared enough to say to hell with that, and would claim me outright in front of the world. But that was foolish.

I shook off that thought and faced Reni again. “I appreciate your concern. Really. But I’m fine.” I grabbed my dance bag. “Ready to go?”

She seemed perturbed with me. “If you say so.”

“I do. Thank you.”

She walked out with me and stayed close all the way to La Scala. I felt her stare on me most of the day, which was unnerving, but in a way also appreciated.

My entire body warmed when Christoph walked into the room, as it always did. As usual, he gave nothing away, greeting everyone the same. It was only the briefest flash of knowing, of intimacy, speaking of what was between us when he looked into my eyes that gave away a thing, but only to me. Like our delicious little secret. I clung to it for all it was worth, refusing to feel dirty. He cared for me. He wouldn’t have asked me to marry him otherwise. It would only be a matter of time before he would claim me and our child publicly.

I pushed through the lesson that day, though I had to rush out to the restroom once to throw up.

He caught my eyes in the mirror when I came back into the studio. I saw my own reflection and knew I looked like death—pale as a cloud, dark smears under my eyes, I’d lost weight, so my cheekbones were more prominent.

“Again!” he shouted, pushing the class through the routine once more, even though we were overdue for a break.

For the rest of the day, he kept his distance from my side of the room, then when class was over, he kept busy with other students and instructors and seemed to make it a point not to speak to me alone.

I wanted to sob when I left, but I held it in. I could do this a little bit longer.

It wasn’t until that night as I crawled into bed, sore, exhausted, and dehydrated, that it dawned on me that not only had he ignored my calls and texts from that day telling him I wasn’t well, but he also hadn’t touched me since the day I’d told him about the baby.

Sixteen

Olivia

This bad idea really likes kissing you?

Seriously? What had come over me? Memories of “bad ideas” from my past bombarded my brain as I forced myself to meet his aquatic gaze.

What shocked me was that I found no recrimination there or walls being erected. A touch of sadness maybe as he gently brushed a knuckle along my cheek. “I like kissing you, too, but that doesn’t change the fact that it might be best if we kept things professional.”

Why did I keep getting myself into these sticky situations with unavailable men?

The logical part of me knew he was absolutely right. The stupid part of me? That part was coming alive at his touch, feeling reborn after being stifled and frozen too long by my own shame and recrimination, and I couldn’t ignore how amazing that felt. Could I?

He’d said it wasn’t against any official rules... and I could feel his hard-on still straining against his jeans.

I swayed closer and a dangerous glint filled his gaze. “Olivia,” he gritted out in warning. “What are you doing?”

I opened my mouth to say something sexy about it feeling good to be bad, but his phone rang from his pocket, killing the moment, and he stepped back as if relieved for the interruption to our madness.

“Ashford.”

I shamelessly eavesdropped while I finished cleaning up the kitchen. It sounded like the cleaning company was about finished up at Colomba. He pretty much confirmed that when he hung up that call and dialed someone else—clearly the security company folks. I wasn’t sure how to feel when he asked them to be there the day after next to get started on their part, then became agitated when it was clear there was some sort of delay on their end.

He punched out a few texts and followed up with his boss from the sounds of it, then did something in his room, I’d guess with all his files.

I had coffee ready and cake sliced by the time he rejoined me. “All good?” I asked.

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