Page 35 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

“You’ve never been out dancing?” she asks. “Like, ever?”

I shake my head. “I have never danced just for fun.”

Isabelle gapes at me. “That’s…have you only ever done ballet?”

I nod.

“Holy shit, girl. You haven’t put on a favorite song and just wiggled around your room?”

“No.”

“Wow. You really are uptight, aren’t you?”

“The rumors are true,” I say. “I am sheltered and weird and I do not get out much.”

Isabelle makes a face as she takes a deep breath and lets it back out. “Well, we must remedy this. We are going out tonight. You are putting on something slutty and we are going to drink alcohol and teach you how to let loose like a normal twenty-something. You do drink, right?”

“Sometimes, yes. Wine.”

Isabelle pulls dresses from the rack and shoves them at me to try on. She sends me to the fitting room and says she’s going over to find some shoes.

Of course, as soon as she’s out of sight, Roman approaches.

“You cannot go out to a club,” he hisses quietly. “Even this is out of the normal comfort zone.”

“Out of your comfort zone,” I say. “Not mine. I am an adult; I will remind you for the nine-thousandth time. And what is going to happen inside a club full of people? I will dance and no one will know who I am, and it will all be fine.”

We stare at each other, at an impasse, until Roman mutters that he will talk to Alexei for me. He scurries away to avoid being seen by Isabelle as she returns, three boxes of shoes in her arms.

An hour later, we both have outfits for the night, and I tell Roman to drive us back to the apartment. He doesn’t argue with me, but Vera does as soon as we step through the door.

Isabelle, oblivious, wanders around the apartment wide-eyed. Vera and Alexei both talk to me in hushed tones, Vera telling me I must be out of my mind bringing someone back here.

“The last I recall,” I say firmly, “this apartment was in my name. It is my apartment, and I will bring friends here if I want to.”

“I hear from Roman you plan to go out,” Alexei says, on to the more relevant topic.

Vera makes a strangled noise.

“I just want to go have a normal night out like a normal person of my age,” I say.

Vera and Alexei stare at each other until Alexei shrugs.

I can take her to a Russian club I know,” he finally says. “I will know most of the people there. It will be easy to assess threats, though I doubt there will be any. Most people will also know who I work for.”

“Why are you being so agreeable?” I ask. Then, “Never mind. I do not care. If you are willing to take us out, then I will not question it.”

I walk away, grabbing Isabelle’s arm as I drag her away from the huge picture window in the living room. We go into my room, where she flops on my bed.

She asks, “What kind of daddy’s money boughtthisapartment?”

“Guilty,” I say, grinning. “My father did buy me this apartment.”

“Where’s he?” she asks.

“Russia,” I answer. “He sent me over to the U.S. when I was in high school, though I never went to school here. I was homeschooled and I danced. That was my life.”

“Boring,” she says, but there is no judgment in it. “Who are those people out there?”

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