Page 26 of The Billionaire's Pact

“Fine, dancing it is,” I told him.

The Mercedes stopped in front of a warehouse. Rocco helped me climb out and held my hand to the front of the building. A tingle charged through me just from our touch. The plaque on the building wall read M.B.E. in gold lettering: Marini Building Enterprises.

“This building was for imports,” he told me. It appeared fully renovated in brick and steel. The directory listed the dance studio on the second floor, and we both decided to take the stairs to it.

A middle-aged woman in a leotard and skirt greeted us at the door. “Hello, I’m Mable.” She touched her name tag. “So good to see you again, Mr. Marini. I see you have brought someone special for a lesson?” she said cheerfully and shook our hands.

He kissed her cheek. “Yes, this is my fiancée, Adelina,” Rocco said, and a shiver went through me. I’m almost married.

“Nice to meet you. This is my first lesson,” I told Mable.

“That’s fine. I have many couples coming to me for their first lessons. Congratulations to you both, and don’t you worry, Adelina, I’ll have you dancing like Ginger Rogers in no time. Now, let’s dance.” She glide-strutted away, moving her hands wide as she took her position before a wall of mirrors.

I held in my laugh but whispered to Rocco, “Who?”

He grinned. “A better dancer than us.”

We took our places behind her.

Mable turned and clasped her hands together. “Good. The best dances start with a good mood. Every swing dance is this move. Now, first alone. Rock step, rock back….”

We followed her moves in the mirror, taking a step forward, bouncing on each foot, and then stepping back. Time slowed down, and I was surprised we’d only been dancing for twenty-five minutes. Once we mastered that, she added triple steps—three steps forward, three steps back. She swung her hips and bounced, and I did the same.

“Looking great there,” Rocco teased.

I glanced at him in the mirror; he was light on his feet, quickly transitioning like a pro. Then again, he’s in a dancing family. He’s used to it.

“Not too bad yourself, hotshot,” I joked.

She put on Louis Armstrong’s “Mack the Knife.”

“Count out loud, Adelina,” Mable said. “It will help.”

My lips moved as I counted. Rock back, side-side, rock step.

“Add a little flare,” Mable called out.

We were moving in a box, side to side and back. I started swaying my arms and hips as I moved. “Yes, Adelina. Let go. Have fun…Now it’s time to dance with your partner.”

Mable positioned Rocco’s hand around my waist, our hands clasped. We took the steps we’d learned together, our bodies pressed as we turned. My breathing staggered, and I lost count of the steps.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Rocco assured me.

He took the lead and moved me around the studio floor, adding a spin.

“Let your hands move wide, Adelina. Music is about feeling,” Mable called out. “Dance like no one is watching.”

She changed the music to Benny Goodman Orchestra’s “Sing. Sing. Sing.”

Rocco moved behind me and placed his hands above my hips. Then he took my hands, and swung them wide as we triple-stepped front and back side. We twisted, hopped, and clapped our hands.

Mable taught me additional steps and twists I could do. My body was moving and shaking. I laughed as I kept the beat. A giddy lightheadedness bloomed inside me, expanding my chest. My eyes found Rocco, who winked at me. I’d never had this much fun or felt so…free. It was invigorating. Then Mable turned the music off. “Now, let’s try a slow dance. You’ll do one as a couple at your wedding.”

My heart pounded. I’m getting married.

“I’m putting on my wedding song, ‘Only You,’ by The Platters.”

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