Page 57 of The Devil of Downtown

“I don’t have anything to wear for that kind of thing. Sloane might have something, so I’ll check.”

“I’ll pick you up in the afternoon, and we’ll buy something.”

“Oh, there’s really no need—”

“It’s not a suggestion, Ivy. It’s what’s happening. Or did you forget the terms of our arrangement?”

“What if I’m busy on Saturday?” There’s a glint in her eyes. Shelovespushing my buttons.

“Then make yourself un-busy. I’ll pick you up at four. Where do you live?”

“No, I have rehearsals until five on Saturday. You can pick me up after that.”

“Rehearsals?”

“I’m preparing for a show. I’m a dancer, remember?”

“Text me the location. I’ll pick you up there at five.”

I swipe out of the call before she resists and throw my phone down.

I fall back against the silk sheets, muscles tight, frustration simmering just below the surface. After one damn video call, I’m harder than if I’d downed a bottle of Viagra.

A low rasp escapes my chest as I fist myself, breath harsh.

Fuck.

I’m in serious trouble.

Chapter fifteen

Ivy

The beat hits hard enough to rattle my bones; the rhythm flowing through me like we’re one and the same. I catch my reflection in the mirror—sweat-slicked, flushed, legs burning—and push harder. The number is supposed to look effortless, but Rita, our choreographer, doesn’t believe in ‘effortless’.

“Again from the top! Sharper arms, Ivy—remember you’re leading the line!” she bellows.

My lungs sting as I take the cue, hitting the diagonal, toes snapping against the wood. Around me, we move as one—heels striking in sync, like rain against glass. The music surges, a big brass band blasting from the speakers.

I burst into the center, spin, lift, and when I land, my heart almost stops. Dane is leaning against the glass outside the rehearsal room, a ghost of a smile on his lips and his focus razor sharp.

I flash him a look as if to sayWhat the hell are you doing here,but his smile just widens.

“Okay, better. One more time!” Rita’s voice snaps me back. I take a few deep breaths and get myself into position. Jennie briefly moves away from the ensemble and sidles up behind me, whispering, “Is that DanefuckingBlack eyeing you like a juicy snack?”

“He’s a big fat complication, is what he is,” I mumble.

“If he’s a complication, I’ll take two,” she breathes out before the trumpets blare through the studio. I straighten my spine and go again, harder, cleaner, every line precise. If he’s going to watch, he’s damn well going to see what I can do.

When the final note hits, Rita claps once.

“Yes! That’s the energy I want people. That’s it for today.”

Jennie jogs over, her hair stuck to her forehead.

“Jesus, Ivy, he’s even hotter in real life.”

“Don’t,” I groan, cheeks heating.