Page 43 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

Her previous day’s distractions had only worked so much.

She spent an hour with Raf and then pulled on some leggings and a form-fitting shirt and went to the room near the kitchen.

Ballet would help.

She chose a piece from Les Petit Riens to punish herself. The choreography included seven back-to-back fouettes then a double pirouette and she loved it for its intricacy. The hardest dances always looked the most beautiful, the most deceptively effortless, when they were performed well.

She breathed in deeply, her eyes closed as she felt the music, and then she began to move, her eyes remaining closed as she lost herself to the emotion of the Mozart piece, performing the fouettes—one of the most difficult steps in ballet—as though she were simply walking.

You’re going to be a star, Abs. Just like your mom.

The words pushed against her and she frowned, slowing to a stop, dropping her head forward. Tears sparkled in her eyes when she thought of her father, when she thought of the fact that he was alone in America, that he was such a stubborn ass he’d let her go. No, he hadn’t let her go. He’d pushed her—hard—out of his life.

She made a grunting noise, forcibly removing such thoughts, and continued to dance, pushing herself harder and harder, performing a grande jeté high in the air before landing gracefully on her feet and pushing up en pointe.

Had she known he was watching?

No.

Yet the sight of Gabe, draped against the door, as he had been the first time she’d practised in here, didn’t surprise her. Their eyes met and everything inside her coiled tight like a spring. She was very still as the music swirled around them, enveloping them, throbbing with tension.

‘Don’t stop.’ The words were more than a gravelly command. They were a hoarse, desperate plea.

She didn’t like the way he told her what to do—her cheeks flushed because deep down she liked it very much—but she wanted to show her free will as much as possible. She felt his desperation, the lure of his need, and turned back to the dance, once again feeling it as though it were a part of her.

She didn’t close her eyes though. If he wanted to watch her, then she wanted to watch him, to see the play of emotions on his face as she pirouetted around the room. For a moment she remembered what it had been like to perform, wearing the beautiful yet hard and scratchy costumes, the feet that had ached, the rapturous attention of the audience, the adoration from the other dancers. Though she’d come up against some jealousy, Abby moved so beautifully, so instinctively, that most ballerinas had simply accepted she was different to the rest of them.

After half an hour the piece came to a stop and Abby paused with it, remembering the last movement of choreography as though she’d learned it only the day before. The attitude derrière was the final step and she held it long after the last note had throbbed around them, her eyes meeting Gabe’s, locking to his, before she eased her foot down and returned to standing.

She waited, her breath held, uncertain what he would say, only feeling that something powerful had shifted between them, something new and interesting.

‘You…’ He frowned, the words apparently stuck deep inside him. His voice was hoarse and she was glad because she knew it was emotion that did that. He had watched her and he’d felt something. That was the point of ballet, wasn’t it? ‘That was incredible.’

The praise, though not the most lavish she’d ever received, made her heart soar because praise wasn’t something Gabe Arantini offered often.

‘Thank you,’ she said, even more pleased when she sounded calm in the face of her racing heart. ‘How was Rome?’

He dipped his head forward and she had no idea what the gesture was supposed to convey.

‘How is Raf?’

She smiled; she couldn’t help it. ‘Delightful.’

He arched a brow. ‘You seem well. Less tired.’

‘Well, having round-the-clock nanny care will do that for a mom,’ she pointed out.

He nodded. ‘I think he is settled here too.’

‘Well, it’s only been a few weeks. But yes. He seems to be settling in well.’

He frowned, and she had the sense that he was trying to find words, that he was looking for what to say. But he didn’t speak, and so Abby did. ‘I…guess I’ll go take a shower.’

He nodded but when she was almost at the door he reached out, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. ‘Did you sleep in my bed?’

She blinked, the question unexpected. ‘No.’

He made a small tsking noise. ‘And here I was, imagining you there.’

---