Page 15 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

“Fair enough,” she answers. “What doyoulike to do for fun?”

“I work out, read, and watch television. Sometimes I go to the theater. I confess that I, too, have a weak spot for a few reality shows. Not all of them.”

“Which ones?”

“I likeSurvivor,Naked and Afraid,American Ninja Warrior. Survival and competition types of things.”

“Do you imagine yourself on the shows?” she asks.

“No, I…” I think about it for a moment. “Well, sometimes I do wonder how I would do if I competed. Sure.”

She smiles brightly and I am sure I look like a teenage boy with a school crush as I take in the sight of her. I cannot help the compliment that comes from my mouth.

“You are an incredibly beautiful woman.”

Her mouth opens, but she quickly shuts it, looking down at her lap as she blushes. “No, I…”

“Hey,” I say softly, reaching across the table. “Look at me? I am sorry if that was…”

Too much? Too soon? I don’t know what to say.

“It was nice,” she says. “Thank you for the compliment.”

We enjoy our meals, Gigi sitting back mid-sandwich and patting her nonexistent belly. “I am too full. It is too much grease. I may die during second-half rehearsals.”

“Was it worth it, though?”

She nods.

“Yes!” I exclaim, fist pumping. “I told you!”

She laughs as I pay the bill and walk her back to the car, where she ties the scarf back around her head and puts her sunglasses back on. As we pull back into the alley, I tell her I enjoyed her company.

She takes her sunglasses off and looks at me for a long time before leaning in, kissing me softly on the lips, and then slipping out of the car before I can even process.

I watch as she bounds, weightless as a gazelle, back to the building. She slips inside, and I am left with only the soft intensity of her kiss left on my lips.

CHAPTER 7

Galina

Iam curled up on the couch in my pajamas, a cooking show on the television, when Vera comes bustling out of her bedroom, dressed to go out.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Shopping,” she says.

“For what?” I ask.

She makes a humming noise. “I do not know. I just want to look around the stores.”

Normally, I would make a snide remark about how she spends my father’s money as if it is hers. Today, though, still high off of yesterday’s date with Vasily, I choose to bite my tongue.

“Well, have a nice time,” I say.

She walks over and puts a palm to my forehead. I swat her away.

“I am checking to see if you are sick,” she says.

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