Page 69 of Sinful Sacrifice

“First, I put on my toe pads.” I unzip my bag and pull them out. “Then, you have to make sure your foot is flat on the floor like this and your knees bent.”

I demonstrate the proper form as she crawls closer, staring at my feet.

“Next, we tie them.” I explain every move I make while wrapping the ribbon around my foot and ankle. “This is to make sure your ankles have great stability. That’s important.”

She nods repeatedly, hanging on to every detail.

I love teaching dance at all levels, but introducing it to children is my favorite. Nothing is more genuine than innocent excitement. When someone isn’t worried about expectations. They’re there to simply learn and have fun.

When I’m finished tying it around my ankle, I loop the ribbons into a knot. Amara creeps so close that she’s nearly sitting on my other foot.

I extend my leg when I’m finished. “And that’s how you put on a ballet slipper.”

“I want to do that!” She grins from ear to ear. “How’d you learn?”

“My mother taught me, and then I started teaching classes.”

“Really?” Amara peeks up at Damien, pouting her lower lip. “Do you think Daddy will let me go to her dance classes?”

Damien scratches his head. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

I’m sure Antonio won’t jump for joy to have his daughter attend my classes. My shoulders slump at the reality check that I don’t have a studio to teach her in anyway.

“Will you show me how you dance while wearing them?” she asks.

I put the other shoe on and stand, and Amara giggles, making herself comfortable on the couch beside Damien. Her brown eyes are bright and wide while she waits for my next move. Damien rests his elbows on the armrests, giving me his undivided attention.

If I’ve learned one thing about Damien, the man loves watching me. It’s like his new favorite hobby.

I spend the next twenty minutes giving them a crash course on ballet basics. Each time I peer at Damien, he mouths different words to me:

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

Perfection.

All mine.

“Uncle Damien! Can I hold Ace?” Amara asks when dinner is over.

Monique’s tofu spaghetti was one of the best dinners I’d had in a long time. It might even put L’ultima Cena to shame. Not that I’d ever tell the murder-eatery that. No one even complained that it was a meatless meal.

Damien is seated in a corner chair, working on his laptop, and I just finished helping Clara and Monique clean the kitchen.

“Ace?” I ask Damien.

“Ace, the snake!” Amara shouts, jumping off the couch.

Ace the huh?

I scan the room as if a snake is about to slither out from somewhere.

Damien drops his laptop to the floor and stands. “Only if you sit on the couch.” His tone is strict yet also gentle. “Be right back.” As he passes me, he drops a kiss to my cheek and retreats upstairs.

Clara joins Amara on the couch, and I steal Damien’s seat. I rub my arms as Damien comes back into the living room with a snake around his arms.

Since when does this man have a snake?

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