He takes a step back and spins me under his arm. I clumsily follow his lead, all the while cringing at my complete lack of grace.
“Not bad,” he says as he wraps his arms around me from behind. “I give you points for effort.” He grabs my hand and pushes on my waist, and I spin out before he pulls me back in again. Then, as I’m busy trying to regain my balance, he dips me. The action is so unexpected, I squeal and lose my footing. Just when I’m sure I’m going to face-plant into the dance floor, his arm tightens around me to stop my descent. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He smiles as he holds me nearly horizontal to the floor. “And what’s more, I’ve finally found it.”
“What?” Still nervous about being dropped, I grasp his arms as he leans over me.
“The one thing you suck at. And I thought I was a terrible dancer. I’m freaking Nureyev compared to you.”
I slap his arm. “Hey.”
His eyes sparkle in the low light. “Just keeping it real, Liss.”
He pulls me up into a standing position, and I grip his biceps until I regain my balance on my heels. Once I’m steady, he loosens his grip. “Okay, well. Clearly that needs some practice. Want to try it again?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to insult my technique again?”
“That depends on whether or not you continue to suck. So try not to, okay?”
I can hear Josh and Angel laughing as Liam guides me through the sequence again. Soon, I’m laughing, too.
Okay, fine. I’m a terrible dancer. So sue me. Yet another reason I’m backstage, not onstage.
We swap partners again, and dance for a bit longer, but the wine and the exertion soon take their toll. Angel starts yawning, and it’s not long before we all join in. It’s been a big week for all of us.
After we agree to call it a night, Angel texts her driver, pays the bill, and we head down to the street. We’ve barely stepped out the door when a barrage of flashbulbs hits us.
“Dammit,” Liam mutters. “Everybody, run for the car.” He pushes through the throng of photographers, then holds the car door open and ushers Angel and Josh inside. My short legs and high heels make sure I get there last. I’m about to climb inside when I’m shoved hard in the shoulder by a burly man who’s jostling to get shots of Liam.
“Elissa!” Liam reaches for me as I stumble back on my heels, but it’s too late. I trip over the curb and make a grunting sound as I fall heavily onto my hip.
Dammit. That’s going to leave a mark.
I’m awkwardly trying to navigate around my tight skirt to get myself upright when I’m nearly blinded by machine-gun flashes, right in my face.
“Back the hell off,” Liam growls before the owner of the flash is hauled backward. A young photographer in a baseball cap hits the wall with a thud, and I scramble to my feet to see Liam tear the camera out of his hands.
“Hey! Give that back!” The pap reaches for his equipment, but Liam yanks out the memory card and pockets it before throwing the camera to the ground. The pap howls in dismay. “That’s a three-thousand-dollar camera, asshole!”
“Bill me,” Liam mutters. He shoves more bodies out of the way to get to me. “Get the hell away from her!”
He leans down and searches my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Embarrassed more than anything.”
The photographers yell at him to look in their direction, but Liam ignores them all as he wraps his arm around me and guides me toward the car. I limp around the pain in my hip.
When we’re safely inside, Liam yanks the door shut so hard, the whole car shakes. Flashes continue to light up the interior as the paps press their lenses against the window.
“Get us out of here,” Liam says to the driver. The engine revs as we pull out into the relentless New York traffic.
I lean back in my seat and exhale. “Well, that was a bracing way to end the evening.”
“Are you okay?” Angel touches my shoulder.
“Fine. No permanent damage.”
“Fucking animals,” Liam says as he examines my arms for scrapes. “They behave like that and then wonder why we get pissed.”
Angel gives him a disapproving look. “Still, you shouldn’t have broken his camera. You know that sort of reaction is gold to them. You’re going to be splashed all over TMZ within the hour.”
“The bastard was taking photos up Elissa’s dress,” Liam says with disgust. “He’s lucky I only broke his camera.” He pulls the memory card from his pocket and snaps it in half. “At least those pictures won’t show up on some sleazy Web site.”
Angel nods. “He’ll come after you for damages.”
“Let him. He won’t be the first. Or the last.” He sits back and stares out the window, and I can still feel the anger coming off him in waves.