Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“I make up for it with plenty of cardio and carrots the rest of the week. But life is meant to be lived, no?”
Had she ever really thought about it in that context? “I suppose so.”
“You have been a very single-minded woman for many years. Dance has been your focus, your ambition.”
“And my passion.”
“No one watching you dance would deny that. You are very talented. You know this, right?”
She supposed. Yes, she could dance. When she watched footage of competitions, she knew she held her own in a room full of talented dancers. For the past few years, she even believed she began to shine a bit brighter than them because she practiced harder and wanted it more.
“I’m pleased with my performances.”
“This ambition, does it make you happy?”
Happy? An odd question. She didn’t enjoy being frustrated by the champion status she had not achieved yet. But she would be a champion. Once the trophy was in her hands, life would be very sweet, and the sacrifices she’d made along the way would have been worth it.
All she had to do was get dangerously close to the most tempting man she’d ever met in order to catch her blackmailer.
His question unsettled her. She’d never thought of her life in a happy/unhappy context. It just was. Of course, questioning her life was too easy to do when she had a man like Alejandro in front of her, reminding her of everything she’d been missing.
“Why shouldn’t it?” she asked.
“The way that ice cream cone is dripping and the fact I’ve rarely seen you smile, I suspect you have spent so much time dancing, you are out of practice when it comes to living.”
Dancing was life for her. So what if she didn’t eat a lot of ice cream? “Why do you care?”
“Because I am a man who would like to see you happy.” He brushed tender fingertips across her cheek. “What is the worst thing that could happen if you do not win Saturday night? Or ever?”
Immediately, she rejected the thought. But it was a fair question, one she’d asked herself during long nights when aching muscles, nagging injuries, and loneliness had kept her awake.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I can’t let that happen. Failure is not an option.”
“You cannot control what will happen.”
Yeah, that’s what worried her.
“So what happens if you never win?”
She hated to even think the answer. But to speak it seemed unbearably personal. Yet Alejandro had poured out a part of his soul to her. He had not mocked her when she’d spoken of her mother, the rest of the family, or the origins of her ambitions. She had no reason to hide from him…except that he kept slipping behind her emotional barriers, which scared the hell out of her.
Why couldn’t she put distance between them? Why did she even care about his feelings? Normally, she had no problem with pushing people away, but Ali was…different.
“I would feel like a failure,” she whispered.
“You would consider yourself a failure, even after everything you have achieved?”
“Probably. My family would think I’m a failure. I have one brother who has been the top decathlete in the world. One has played in the Super Bowl. My father has two gold medals. I can’t compete.”
“Who asked you to?”
“You’d have to understand my family. For years, my brothers have endlessly tormented me.”
He shrugged. “The nature of men and their sisters. Their way of showing affection is to harass you. More manly that way.”
It wasn’t that simple, and she didn’t know how to explain it. “Family aside, I couldn’t give up dancing. I want to win, more than anything.”
“I would not suggest you give up dance. I merely think you should take the floor to indulge your joy of dance, not to pursue a trophy. The journey is the treasure, not the prize at the end.”
“Now you’re a philosopher?”
Alejandro shook his head and placed a soft kiss against her ice-cream cold lips. “Just a man who wants to see you smile. Will you?”
Shanna looked at Alejandro. He was so comfortable with himself. Somehow wiser than a man who ran a club for sexual indulgences should be. He made everything seem so easy. Even personal discussions, which she usually downright loathed, felt freakishly natural. No pressure. No scolding or telling her how to do things. No taunting her about her failures. Just a steady voice, a tender touch, with lots of insight.
Lovely…but none of that would put a trophy in her hand.
Shanna wrapped her fingers around his and smiled. “There. Are you happy?”
“I have seen more genuine smiles at a beauty pageant.”
Sighing, Shanna sat back and licked at her cone. “Really, why does it matter to you if I’m happy?”
Ali paused, seeming to weigh his words. “You matter. I would hate to see you sacrifice everything for something that may never happen. You have given up high school frivolities, friendships, romances…for a hunk of metal and a title.”