Dangerous Dancer (Dangerous Series Book 1) Read online

  I caught him, from my peripheral, glance towards me, his eyes lingered over my face for a couple of seconds, then sharply looked away when I raised my head in his direction. “Not with your cheek like that, people will talk and I’m not having that.”

  “I haven’t any make up on yet, I can conceal it,” I offered as my hand lightly brushed against the purple bruise now prominent across my cheek.

  “I said no! Now drop it, Raine.” His palm harshly slammed down onto the table right next to me, causing me to jump in fright, and to lose control of my knife as it came crashing down on top of my plate. I gasped but the air wouldn’t enter my lungs. Feeling like I was starved for air, my heart began to race at a tremendous speed, and my lungs shallowly rose and fell. I sat there silent for what felt like an eternity, unable to move, but it was probably only a minute.

  “I’m sorry for shouting,” he said quietly. “I tell you what, why don’t I finish early today and take you to that restaurant in Clent Hills you keep banging on about. We can have, what you young ones, call a date night?” He offered in a low, calmer tone.

  I flinched when his hand came to rest upon my own and gently squeezed. Fearful of upsetting him further I nodded my head without looking his way and grabbed the papers ready to read about someone else’s shit life rather than deal with my own.

  “Before I forget,” he said and moved his hand away from mine and resumed his attention back to his document, “Mark DeBurg is hosting a benefit gala next month for the We Are People Project, which I have already RSVP’d our attendance to.” He paused and took a sip of his coffee, but my attention was captured by an article about women who were refused careers by their domineering husbands.

  The scoff I had imagined inside my head, left my mouth, and before I had chance to comprehend what was happening, I felt the paper I was grasping, ripped from between my fingers and scatter across the table. “I’m talking to you, and when I speak you should respect your elders and damned well listen,” he sneered, menacingly.

  My vision blurred from the prickles of heated tears, as I looked down at the two shreds of paper still clutched in my hand. I felt a cold sweat break out when I turned my head to look at him, but he continued to talk as if nothing had just happened.

  “It will be a fancy affair and the music will be classical, the dancing obviously, Ballroom, and before you open that mouth of yours to challenge me, I know you can’t dance for shit, our wedding day proved that, so you will enroll in Ballroom classes and learn,” he stated. He grabbed a pen from his breast pocket and added his signature to the document still clutched in his left hand.

  “Ballroom classes?” I gasped. I knew I would attend whatever the hell he stipulated, if only to escape the confines of this house. “With you?” I asked, finally clearing my throat.

  He glanced at me and smirked, “I can already dance Ballroom. Besides I’m far too busy for that nonsense.” A feeling of relief washed over me like a tidal wave knowing he wouldn’t be present to belittle my every faux pas.

  “I have to go, I’m already late,” he snapped and rose to his feet. “Here, call this woman today, she came highly recommended by Savannah Roberts,” he said, slinging a business card towards me.

  “What about my cheek?” I asked meekly, unable to look at him as I bent down to the floor to pick up the card.

  “Like you said, you can conceal it. I’ll be checking up on you later,” he replied. I shrunk in my seat when he placed a kiss on top my head and squeezed my shoulder. I was unsure if it was a squeeze in warning or a squeeze in affection.

  My eyes bore into his back as I watched him arrogantly saunter away from the room, whistling. My inner fury began to snake its way up through my core while I looked at the business card in my hand.

  Niki Chenkov. Instructor.

  Dance ‘til You Drop.

  Ballroom and Latin.

  Before I knew it, every piece of crockery that was on the table was smashed to smithereens as I watched my pent-up frustration, anger and, hurt explode around me in a heated daze.

  To everyone on the outside looking in, Max was a charmer, a loving and doting husband and I was a lucky woman, yet what really happened where Max was concerned, no one else could see. My life was fast becoming a living nightmare for one, tailor-made at the hands of Max, and each second that I was submerged in fear of my own husband, was leaving a permanent mark on my heart.

  But I knew there was only so much I would be able take before I, Raine Peters, would eventually find my balls and fight back.

  CHAPTER THREE.

  I sat in the cab outside the studio of Dance ‘til You Drop inhaling through my mouth and exhaling through my nose as panic clawed its way through me.

  I hated dancing with a passion. I was always that girl sat on my own at prom, never being asked to dance and having to watch all my friends at school have the time of their lives as they spun around the dance floor with their partners, joy and happiness radiating from their faces while I sat scowling wishing that just once, I would be lucky enough to be asked. My prayer was answered half-way through the night in the form of my teacher, which made my growing embarrassment even worse. I quickly declined before fleeing from the room past a group of boys heckling my way.

  It was the same when I had left high school and started to frequent night clubs, I would be that woman who stood at the edge of the dance floor shuffling my feet from left to right meekly, waiting for some fine, strapping, hot guy to ask me to dance. For some reason, I only attracted the guys who looked like they had been hit with the ugly stick, which then in turn led me to lie and claim I was a lesbian just to thwart their unwanted advances.

  Through college, I avoided parties like the plague unless there was plenty of free alcohol, then I would be that person sat in the corner paralytic drunk and mumbling incoherently.

  When Max entered my life, I felt like all my dreams had come true. He made me feel special, that I was worthy of his attention and I fell for him quick and hard. Looking back now, as I sit having a near panic attack and the driver rapidly loses his patience with me at my unwillingness to leave his cab, I can see where Max’s controlling behavior started, but I was too blinded and in awe of him to see his intentions then as anything but love.

  The day after I had accepted his proposal, he started with little comments about my clothing, then he insisted I had an entire new wardrobe, all of which he hand-picked to his own satisfaction. Next it was my hair, he said the vibrant red I dyed it was too crass and insisted I would be more suited to my own natural hair coloring of chestnut brown. Then it was my drinking, he would substitute my love of Vodka and lime for a mineral water and ice, insisting that my body was a temple and that I should take better care of it. He would always finish his sly put downs with the same word’s; If you truly loved me Raine, this wouldn’t be such an issue for you.

  I somehow managed to keep my shame of being unable to dance a secret from him. The functions he started to have me attend with him were more to rub shoulders with other lawyers, promote his business, charity events and the like, and at every single one of these events, he insisted all my role was, was to remain by his side, smile and look like the trophy girlfriend every man there knew I was and would be envious of.

  When our wedding day came, this was the first time I experienced the not so nice side of Max. When it was our time to have our first dance as husband and wife, I had wanted to run and hide under one of the tables. As he gracefully tried to move me around the room, I kept stumbling, I trod on his feet, I couldn’t hold my frame and with each passing second I suffered my humiliation in front of one hundred and fifty guests, Max’s anger increased tenfold. As soon as that song had ended and we bowed to our guests, he dragged me from the room by my arm and let rip at me for embarrassing the hell out of him in front of all his friends, colleagues, and family. He avoided me like the plague for the rest of the night while he slowly got drunk on whisky, then when the night was over he apologized profusely and begged my forgiven
ess before we consummated our marriage.

  Over the course of our two-year marriage, apologies, begging forgiveness and make-up sex seemed to be the norm where Max was concerned and although he had come close to raising his hand to me a few times, last night was the first time he had over stepped the mark. I couldn’t help but think, that deep down in the depths of my churning gut, the bitch in the emerald green dress had something to do with it.

  “Miss, I can’t sit here all day! Are you removing yourself from my cab or do you want me to drop you somewhere else?” Came the less than dulcet tones of the cab driver.

  Forcing myself to sit upright from my slouched position, I flashed him a small apologetic smile and with shaky hands I delved into my purse and handed over some bills. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, “keep the change for your inconvenience.”

  His scowling, aged features turned bright as he flashed me a toothless grin and gushed his thanks in bucket loads. With a deep breath and slow robotic moves, I found myself on the sidewalk, alone and nervous as hell as I watched the cab pull away. You can do this Raine.

  No! I can’t.

  I clutched my throat. It felt like it was starting to swell up. The bright daylight over Manhattan became blinding, causing me to scrunch my eyes tight. I suddenly gasped for air as I doubled over and rested one hand on my knee to balance myself. A panic attack was imminent and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I felt two hands clamp down on my shoulders and they began to move in circular motions, a deep voice sounded in my right ear as whomever it was began to bellow to cut through my hazy mind. “Concentrate on my voice and breathe.”

  “That’s it girl, you’re doing so well,” he continued. I concentrated on the sound of his voice and slowly panted through my attack. The soothing buzz of his massage on my shoulders began to fill my body, over-taking my panic. “Good girl, take a few more deep breaths, the worst is over.”

  As soon as I could retain my steady breathing, I slowly raised myself straight and blew out one long, solid breath. My savior was soon in front of me.

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  I nodded my head, still breathing heavily. “Thank you for saving me,” I panted as I raised my eyes to him. He was dark-skinned with deep chocolate brown eyes, short dark spiky hair, big ears and such a wide, warm, welcoming smile that I found myself smiling back at him.

  “You’re welcome. I’m Jared.” He beamed as he held out his hand towards me.

  “Raine,” I replied. I glanced around nervously before briefly shaking his hand. “How did you know, about uhm, me…just…?” I stuttered stupidly.

  “My sister. She has panic attacks quite frequently. I noticed the color drain from your face as I approached you, then when I saw you clutch your throat and double over, I gathered it was a panic attack.” He shrugged, like it was nothing.

  “Can I walk you somewhere, make sure you arrive at your destination okay?” He offered. He slipped his hands in to his black sweats and dropped his head shyly.

  “Thank you for the offer, but I’m okay. I’m heading into that shop, and then I’m going home,” I replied, then thanked him once more.

  “I’ll be seeing you, Raine,” he called with a salute of his finger away from his head and a look of disappointment sat on his face as I headed towards the shop door.

  The air conditioning hit me as soon as I pushed it open and stepped a foot inside, it was a welcome relief as I slowly ambled around the shop grabbing a few chocolate bars and a can of coke to boost my sugar levels. As I stood in line waiting to be served, I’d made the decision of going home and forgetting about the stupid dance class. I’d teach myself from You Tube tutorials, how hard could it be?

  As I slowly moved closer towards the checkout, I heard my outdated pager jump to life. According to Max, I had no need for a cell phone, I had no friends, and seemingly no life that would require one. I had to be thankful I had this prehistoric thing. Rooting through my purse, my heart dropped in to my stomach when I pulled it out and read the message.

  From: Max. 13.41pm

  I hope you made arrangements for those dance classes, Raine? This gala is important for me given how now I’ve been asked to make a speech. I cannot have you show me up.

  M x

  Deciding against replying, I heaved a deep sigh of frustration and handed over my goods to the checkout clerk. “Will that be all?” She asked as she scanned and bagged my items, robotically.

  I went to nod my head but at the last second I changed my mind, “No, can I have a miniature bottle of vodka too please?”

  Turning around she grabbed the bottle, scanned it, and handed me my goods as I handed over the money. Collecting my change, I headed back outside into the heat and pushed through the door of the dance studio. A set of concrete steps welcomed me and as the door closed behind me, I could make out the dull base of music. I sat down and quickly rooted around in my bag, I located the vodka and uncapped it, with a sly smile to myself I poured it all into my mouth in one go and closed my eyes. I savored it sliding down my throat, instantly warming, and easing the nerves that were currently cramping every limb of my body.

  I heard a door creak open and the thud of music became louder, echoing from the walls before it dulled again when the door creaked closed. Shoving the alcoholic evidence back in the bag, I stood to my feet and mounted the steps with a slight new found confidence I didn’t have ten minutes ago, as the alcohol began to swim through my veins.

  I pulled back on the heavy double doors and squashed through the tiny gap my puny strength had managed to open and found myself in a long corridor with no clue which door I was supposed to be heading to. There were three to choose from. Crap!

  Pressing my face up to the glass window at the first door, I sighed in relief when I saw the studio was empty. As I slowly I headed to the next door, I stopped to look in the window and spotted a load of people milling around. I tried to search for someone who bore some resemblance to a dance teacher, as I took in what they were wearing. They were all in leggings and t-shirts, while I had opted for jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Scrunching my face in annoyance at my lack of intellect where dance attire was concerned, I turned to leave when a deep, silky voice from behind sliced right through me, causing me to halt in my steps.

  “Where are you scurrying off to Myshka?”

  Gulping, I slowly turned around and looked in the direction of the voice and a noise strangled itself in the back of my throat. His dark hair dripped with perspiration causing it to lay flat across his tanned forehead, just past his eyebrows and his dark, curious eyes peeked through the haphazard strands. His jaw looked firm and strong with a small curve tugging at his lips, as if there were something funny that only he knew about, but it was the fleeting, wicked glance I caught that totally screamed danger.

  “I’m looking for Niki?” I asked. My squeaky tone resembled that of a mouse, causing me to instantly straighten my posture to seem taller than I felt.

  He dragged his eyes slowly up my body once. “Well, you found him,” he crooned.

  Him?

  “Uhm, no… no.., I stammered, and shook my head vehemently. “Niki, the lady. She runs this place,” I replied firmly as I wiped my sweaty palms on the back of my jeans. I couldn’t work out if the heat that was suddenly cooking me was the strange way he was looking at me, the vodka, or a mixture of both.

  The small smile that was curved onto his face grew wider and he nodded his head, “Oh, you mean that Niki! Why didn’t you say so,” he replied, “follow me.”

  As I followed like a lamb to the slaughter behind him, I couldn’t help but think his condescending laugh currently echoing around the hallway, was him mocking me for a reason I had no clue about.

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  I turned the faucet off and grabbed some paper towels with which to wipe my hands, today’s dance lesson had been tedious. Most of my students had been with me for months on end, learning the same routine twice weekly, sometimes more, but some
of them seemed still on that very first lesson.

  “These classes used to be exciting,” I muttered aloud, and grabbing my water bottle, left the men’s room. My steps were slow and calculated to delay going back to the studio. My feet came to a standstill when I looked up and caught a woman peering into the studio window. I watched her side profile with interest for a while, her eyes flitted from left to right as though she was searching for someone. She was nervously biting down on her bottom lip hanging loosely from between her teeth, then she turned and started to scurry away just like a little mouse.

  “Where are you scurrying off to Myshka?” I called after her automatically. I watched her turn around slowly in my direction, she looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights when her eyes slightly widened and I caught her gulp. My lips curved into a small smile as she stood statuesque staring at me like she had lost her voice.

  “I’m looking for Niki?” She asked in a squeaky tone that continued her resemblance from earlier. I laughed to myself as she straightened her posture, maybe to show confidence, although she was coming across as timid and shy right now.

  Unable to help myself, I slowly looked at her. She wore black pumps with black skinny jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt. Her face was heavily-set with foundation but no eye make-up, which I found odd. Her dark hair hung loosely in waves around her face and settled around the swell of her breasts, but her big brown eyes looked dull and lifeless as she continued to silently stare at me. “Well, you found him,” I finally replied.

  She shook her head fiercely and her cheeks grew a deep shade of red, adding the only drop of color to her placid face. “Uhm, no… no..,” she began to stammer, “Niki, the lady. She runs this place.”

  The lady? I can assure you I’m ALL man!