The Lone-Dancer's Feat

Chapter 3

Lucia's POV

I revelled in the slight burns of my hamstrings and deltoid muscles as I stretched my arms, my fingers touching my feet whilst my legs were in a ‘split’ position.

I had barely escaped the house today without detection what with the consequences of a big party in our family; father actually needing to go into the office to give interviews on the benefits of the ball the night previous and the money now collected, and my sisters’ insistence in needing to shop – Beth for clothes and Anna for books.

And none of them would hear about any excuses for not using the driver and the car when the University was just on the way to the city and therefore, why could I not travel with them?

But thankfully due to my late night thinking, my eyes looked tired enough to pass off my lie of a headache and that I had rescheduled to go to a later class and therefore would not be needing to travel with them.

I sighed as I moved so my legs were curled against my chest and stared at my reflection in the wall sized mirror as the soft music that echoed around the room became a background melody to my melancholy thoughts.

My ability to lie was becoming stronger, I had to admit. When once I would have had to pre-plan my excuses so I could practise to cut out any deflections, I had made up my deceptive remark within the second the question had been asked.

My jade tinted irises once again looked dark, I couldn’t help but think as I stared myself down from across the room.

Last night when I had returned from my rather unusual meeting with Christian and had been in the process of taking off my make-up, I had noticed that for the first time in almost two years my eyes were once again bright again as if a thick cloud of stream had been wiped off a pane of glass.

The encounter with the deadly gorgeous man had enabled a spark to arise within me, and make me feel my own heart beat again within me.

I placed my hand to my chest where I knew my heart lay underneath, and though I could both hear and feel its beat, as always, it was as if I were feeling someone else’s.

I didn’t know what to think about that.

How had one argument help me connect with the life that surely ran within me, but I had not been able to get in touch with for a while?

How had a 15 minute heated discussion allow me to connect with the person I once was, and help me reach the other emotions and thoughts – the lighter ones – that I had so securely locked away so tight and deep within me that even I wouldn’t know how to find and unlock them?

This was what had coursed through my mind last night, and now I couldn’t get it out of my head.

And even though I had kept the card against my better judgement, I knew there was no way that I would pursue him as he had so wanted me to.

Because I knew that if he had been able to unlock any other dangerous passion within me that wasn’t anything to do with my dancing, then I knew he would unlock the other horrid things within me that I had so tightly reigned by sheathing myself with a cloak of numbness.

The slam of the studio door awoke me out of my thoughts, and after seeing who had entered in I was out of my position and standing with my hands behind my back in one fluent movement.

“Lucia,” Linda smiled gently and I pried my eyes away from the man and the woman standing beside her who were staring at me with great interest. “This is Mr Bentley and Ms Smith from Prestigious C.D.”

My brow rose as I took in there expensive and boring crisp suits and no nonsense air with the unmistakable ‘talent scout’ look in their eyes.

Prestigious C.D. (ignoring the slightly ridiculous name) was the top talent agency in the world. They were as hard to get into as a Barbie dolls leather trousers, but if you were an interest of theirs you were only a step away from being at the deeply coveted top step in your chosen profession.

And I was suddenly glad that I had taken my mother’s words to heart when she said a dancer danced even whilst doing the most mundane things, as I’m sure from the way they were looking at me that my way of moving had not gone unnoticed by them.

“Please call me Thomas,” Mr Bentley said as he reached forward with his hand slightly in the air and I took it automatically, noticing as he shook vigorously that Ms Smith wasn’t as polite and chose to just stare at me.