Page 143 of Dance of Deception

She’sreallygood. I stand there, awestruck, watching her move with precision and total control, her line flawless. Her movements aren’t just technically perfect, they’re like little individual displays of creativity and physical poetry.

I keep watching until suddenly she pirouettes and ends up directly facing me—and here I am being a total psycho, lurking in the shadows right outside the door.

Shit.

She jolts a little when she sees me, her chest rising and falling with exertion. I hesitate for half a second before I step into thestudio. “Sorry,” I say, wincing. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Or, you know, be a total creep like that.”

Dove shrugs, rolling her shoulders and running a hand over her silver-pink hair up in its bun. “It’s fine. I was done anyway.”

She’s closed-off, but not necessarily in a snobby way. More armored than anything. Maybe a little distant. Like she doesn’t trust easily.

“You’rereallygood,” I tell her.

She frowns, like she perceives it as a threat, not a compliment. “Look, I’m not trying to steal your friend Naomi’s part,” she says curtly. “I don’t even know why Madame Kuzmina cast me as her understudy.”

I smile warmly. “Because you’re a beautiful dancer.”

Dove watches me a second longer, then relaxes just a little, giving me a half-smile. Her brows knit. “You’re married to Carmine Barone.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

She tilts her head. “Arranged?”

I grin. “Forced.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess, long story?”

I nod. “Pretty much. And complicated.”

“Yeah, mafia families are like that,” she says quietly, looking away.

She stretches her arms over her head, then adds casually, “I think my sister Ciara actually had a thing with him a while back. Carmine, that is.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

I don’t flinch, but something tightens in my chest. I feel it in my spine, in my fingers, coiling and curling under my ribs.

Jealousy. Sharp and sudden.

Dove notices immediately and lifts her hands. “Shit,” she says, watching me carefully. “You said it was a forced thing. I didn’t realize you and he were…” She frowns, her mouth twisting. “I'm sorry. I'm an okay dancer, but I’m an idiot socially.”

I exhale, forcing myself to relax. “No, it’s fine.”

She frowns curiously. “So, you two are like…real?”

I feel the heat creep over my face. Dove’s lips curl a little at the corners.

“Well…huh.”

I give her a curious look. “Huh?”

“It’s just… Most of the time these arranged things are fucking train wrecks. I mean, Ciara's in an arranged marriage, and I’m pretty sure she would legit kill the guy in his sleep.”

Maybe she should. And then she can go to prison, that fucking CUNT.

My conscience almost gives itself whiplash, staring at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.

“I’m…” Dove makes a face. “Seriously, sorry. That was a total dickhead thing for me to say.”

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