“Before that?”
“The day my mother died,” I grudgingly admit, refocusing on him. “And I haven’t relived losing her yet. I guess there are more things my mind is hiding from me than I realized.”
He gives me a three-second intense look. “Would she approve of you turning your back on ballet?”
“She’d roll over in her grave.”
“And how long has it been since your mother died?”
“Years,” I say, a firmer answer coming to me. “Right after my college graduation.”
Those blue eyes of his fill with challenge and mischief. “In other words, you don’t remember how to dance.”
He’s goading me and I don’t want it to work, but I grab the slippers anyway. “I promise you, I can handle these slippers as well as I handle a gun any day.”
“How would I know that? You won’t show me.”
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s go.”
He smiles, and when this man really smiles, it’s devastatingly sexy. And before I know his intentions, I’m over his shoulder, his hand on my ass, and we’re moving.
I inhale his spicy, almost woodsy scent that’s so addictive. “It’s a good thing you smell so great, because that’s the only thing making me forgive you for making the blood rush to my head.”
Rather than putting me down, he simply says, “I’ll walk faster.”
And that proves true. In a blink we are in the hallway and making our way up the narrow wooden stairs that lead to a small passage and an office halfway to the left. Continuing onward and upward, we enter the gym. “I’m seeing spots, Kayden,” I murmur, and moments later he sets me down in the middle of my newly finished dance studio.
I sway and he catches me at the waist, his big hands strong and welcome. “We really have to talk about this habit of you carrying me everywhere,” I tell him.
“I don’t do it often enough?”
I laugh. “That’s it,” I tease. “You need to carry me everywhere.”
“Careful what you ask for,” he teases back, and I feel his mischievous, light mood becoming contagious. “Put your slippers on and let’s see you dance,” he orders, because he can’t help but give commands, but he doesn’t let me go. He glances around the rectangular room with the new hardwood floor that he, Carlo, and Adriel installed over the old flooring for me just last week. “You need a bench to sit on and mirrors in here. We’re still a work in progress.” He refocuses on me. “I’ll hold onto you so you can change into your ballet slippers.”
I grab his arm for balance and make the change, staring down at my pink-covered feet, memories exploding in my mind. Dancing. More dancing. “I auditioned for Juilliard.”
“What?”
“I auditioned.” The memory is sharper now and I wait for some emotion to hit me, but it just feels like a fact.
“And?”
One of the questions we’d wanted answered is my answer. “The CIA showed up.”
“Did you make it into Juilliard?”
“I don’t know. The CIA withdrew my application the minute I said yes to them.”
“Why’d you say yes?”
That sharpness becomes focused, and I know why I’m recalling this again now. “I was never a dancer after I killed my first two men.”
“Your father’s murderers.”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Oddly unemotional. Joining the CIA appealed to me because they were an extension of my father. I think I wanted a family unit. Little did I know that’s not how the CIA operates, but I made it work.”
He doesn’t comment, but I know he gets it. No family. No one to worry about. Until there was us. “Do you remember anything else?” he asks.
“No, but I will.” There is confidence in my tone. “That’s becoming evident.”
“It is. For now, though,” he kisses my forehead, “be a dancer.”
A bubble of excitement fills me. “I’m eager to try out my new slippers.”
“Good. I’m eager to see if you really can handle them like Annie.”
“Game on,” I say, accepting the challenge. “But I need music.”
“I have about every song released in the States in the past five years, as well as the biggest hits by decades. They’re programmed into the panel in the corner.” He walks that way. “Any idea what you want?”
Feeling determined to steal any power Neuville still has, my answer is quick. “?‘Take Me to Church,’?” I say, choosing a song that we both know reminds me of that monster.
Kayden returns to me instantly, his hands settling at my waist. “No. You will not dance to a song that reminds you of Neuville raping you. This place is about you having something special for you. Should you invite me here on occasion, I would love to join you. But this is your place, our new life, and he doesn’t get to be a part of it. Understand?”
In this moment, Kayden slides a little deeper into my soul. This man who can be hard and cold should he need to be, yet so very tender and gentle. “The many shades of dark and light that you are, Kayden, is so damn sexy and perfect.”