Page 18 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

“Does she have a name?”

“Gigi,” I say. “Gigi Sokolov. She is a dancer at the Washington Ballet.”

Katharine frowns but doesn’t say anything else. I take her silence as permission to leave and head out. I text Gigi as soon as I get home.

Vasily:Long day. Did you eat?

Gigi:Hours ago, yes.

Gigi:I never eat after eight

Vasily:Not even dessert?

Gigi:Do I look like I eat dessert

Vasily:Well, you should. It’s delicious.

Gigi:Noted

Vasily:Do you want to come up to my place?

Gigi:Wow bold

Vasily:Oh. Sorry.

Gigi:I like it

Gigi:But I need to get a workout in I was lazy today

Vasily:I could use one, too. Meet at the gym?

Gigi:Yes one hour

I make myself a quick turkey sandwich, standing at my kitchen counter as I scarf it down, famished. An hour later, I wander down to the gym. Another man is on one of the treadmills, but I do not see Gigi. I hop on a Peloton bike and start a workout as I wait. I am halfway through when Gigi finally comes in. She wears only a sports bra with a zipper down the front, and a pair of skintight workout shorts.

She takes the Peloton bike next to mine, but does not acknowledge me. I look around and see a man in a black shirt eyeing me suspiciously, so I stay focused on my own workout. He is muscled and dark-haired and I realize belatedly that he is one of the men I saw shoving her into the SUV.

I have so many questions. And yet, I cannot ask a single one of them right now. Gigi and I ride next to each other without so much as a hello for at least twenty minutes, and when my ride ends, I get up, clean off the bike, and head to the weight racks.

This is so weird.

I should just finish my workout and go.

Twenty more minutes go by and then I hear Gigi end her ride. She goes to the man by the door and says she forgot her water bottle.

“Would you go upstairs and grab it for me?” she asks sweetly. “Oh, and two Tylenol? I have a little bit of a headache.”

“Chto naschet togo parnya?” the man asks in Russian.

“What about that guy?”

“I’ll be fine for ten minutes, Roman,” she says. “I’m just going to get on the treadmill.”

He makes a sound of discontent but then says, “Fine. Stay here.”

“Yes, yes, okay,” Gigi says, waving him off and heading over to the treadmill.

As soon as he is gone, Gigi runs over to where I sit on the weight bench. She leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Fuck, I thought I would never get rid of him.”

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