Page 15 of Teach Me to Fly

I laugh, leaning my head on his shoulder. For a second, the world feels almost right again.

The estate studiois filled with golden light this morning, and the windows are foggy from my heavy breathing. I sit on the floor with my legs outstretched, folding into a deep stretch, breathing through the satisfying pull in my hamstrings. My heartbeat is just beginning to settle from my warm-up, a quiet pulse in my ears, when I hear something behind me. I jolt upright, nearly slipping on the smooth floor, my head snapping toward the sound.

Reign is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. His dark shirt clings to his body in a way that feels offensive this early in the morning, and his blond hair, slightly damp, curls at the nape of his neck. He looks like sin personified, and I hate how easily that thought comes to me.

God, why is he so attractive?

I swallow hard, dragging my eyes away before I do something reckless. Like stare longer. Or drool.

“Ready to talk business?” he asks, voice low and steady.

I nod, trying not to look as flustered as I feel. He pushes himself off the wall and strolls over to the piano in the corner, lowering himself onto the bench.

“You’ll be dancing both Odette and Odile,” he says matter-of-factly.

My brow furrows. “Why isn’t there another dancer for Odile?”

He lifts a brow like the answer is obvious. “Because I want you to do both.”

The air shifts, and suddenly the studio doesn’t feel as warm as it did a moment ago. My pulse stutters, and I try to cover it with a casual toss of my hair over my shoulder.

So, this is what Lando meant.

I narrow my eyes. “To be honest, I didn’t think you wanted me dancing at all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yesterday,” I say pointedly. “You told me I should’ve said no to your father.”

His brow lifts higher, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I did.”

“So, what is this? Did he guilt trip you too?”

“No,” he says simply. “I do want to dance with you.”

The words knock the breath out of me. I blink, heat creeping up my neck as I silently curse whatever part of me still reacts to him like this.

“But,” he adds, “I also want to make sure you’re doing it because you want to. Not because my father put on the charm and pressured you into it.”

I look away, trying to will the blush off my face, but it’s already too late.

“You could’ve said no,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t have held it against you.”

“I should have,” I admit, my voice lower now. “I quit dancing.”

“And yet here you are,” he murmurs, gaze locking with mine again.

I exhale slowly, eyes dropping to my hands as I fidget with the hem of my top. “I want to see if it’s different here,” I say. “If Imperium can be something The Big Apple never was.”

His brow furrows, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I want to know if I can be the kind of dancer I used to dream about being before life got all twisted.”

He’s quiet for a beat, and when I finally look up, his eyes are soft.

“You might be surprised,” he says. “Imperium has a way of giving people room to become who they really are.”

“But Reign…” I start, choosing my words carefully. “I don’t think I can dance Odile. That role is—” I stop myself before I say too much. “It’s just not in me.”

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