The Billionaire's Tango

The average Christmas tree was out again this year with its dusty green leaves intertwined with colourful fairy lights and a miniature ballerina figurine placed at the top. As much as it was an eyesore, after having it around for over four years, it was one of the highlights of spending Christmas at All That Jazz Dance School.

I smiled brightly and used a single arm to gesture towards the tree. “And there we have it, kids: the great Krampus of ATJ!”

Standing in a group, four children had their unamused eyes fixed on the tree and my heart flattened at the sheer disappointment hanging in the air.

“It looks dead,” Cherry, a 9-year-old girl with a double ponytail, deadpanned and looked away, disinterested. “Santa would be horrified.”

“I know I’m horrified,” Her twin brother, Charles, added and gave a dramatic shudder.

“Can we go play with the barres now?” Addison yawned and folded her arms adamantly. Her 12-year-old face was the epitome of cuteness and made her look younger than you’d expect. But the sass that came with that cute little face of hers was appalling.

“Kids!” I exclaimed and frowned at them. “You’re missing the point of all this. Krampus is more than just an old Christmas tree, guys. We got this tree the year this dance school was reopened 4 years ago. After every tough year, Christmas comes around to cheer us all up. For ATJ Dance School, Krampus might as well be our Christmas spirit. It rekindles the Christmas feeling in all of us. I think you all should be fond of this guy.”

After my little speech, nothing in their expressions shifted or showed the slightest bit of impressiveness. My heart dropped and for the nth time, I wondered what I was still doing here on the first week of Christmas when I should be in Georgia, celebrating with my family. However, the sight of Noah’s face gleaming brought a subtle hope to my heart.

He grinned widely. “I like Krampus. My gramps has a tree just like this.” The 8-year-old spoke honestly, making his brown eyes spark.

I smiled and couldn’t help ruffling his overgrown mop of hair. “Your gramps must be pretty cool then.”

“He is.” He nodded complacently.

Turning, I faced the group in general. “Before we begin today’s dance class, I’d like everyone to write down three wishes you have for Christmas this year and how you think you can fulfil someone else’s wish too. Then place them under Krampus. Is that good?”

This seemed to ignite excitement from them as they all eagerly rushed to grab pens and paper to write down their wish list. Impressed, I smiled to myself. The Christmas wish list was ATJ tradition and keeping to it was sacred.

***

Reopening the dance school 4 years ago was my idea. I was at the lowest point in my life when I found a home in the heart of this average building located in South Baton Groove. I never imagined that I’d be a dance instructor to a bunch of unappreciative kids, yet here I was. I might have had one plan for my life, but then fate threw another one at me.

I sighed while buckling up my trainers in the changing room. Since it was the festive season, the dance school was down the usual number of employees. Usually, I took the adult dancing class, but that class had been closed for Christmas, and instead, only the children’s dance class would be open. The low turn up of only 4 children wasn’t what I expected, but then, ATJ’s dance participants had been dropping drastically over the years. At this rate, it was a miracle that we were still open. In other words, everything sucked. Big time.

After tying up my golden blonde hair into a quick bun and splashing a bit of water from the faucet on my face, I left the changing room in my simple black dance tights and tank top.

ATJ was a big expansive bungalow. It had different rooms for different dance practices. With a blue theme, average furniture, and the minimum number of required facilities, the place wasn’t paradise, but it was something. Mr. Covel, my dad’s old dance buddy, put everything he had into building this place. Sometimes he told me I saved All That Jaz by reopening it, but I would beg to differ: ATJ saved me.

Walking down the hallway that led to the children’s dance section, I nearly gave out an ear-piercing scream when a stranger suddenly appeared at the front door. He stood expressionless, a dashing, handsome man with a young girl by his side. He had the type of well-sculpted face that stopped you right in your tracks and commanded you to stare. He was dark and alluring.

Complimenting his striking face was the body of a Greek god, tight and attractive under the smartly tailored suit he wore. From his perfectly styled hair, expensive looking Rolex, and polished brogues, he was a man of superior authority. I could feel it from the way his sharp eyes penetrated right into my grey ones. My breath hitched.

Suddenly, I felt awfully bare in my dance wear, but nonetheless, I gathered every last bit of my senses and walked up to him with an overly sweet smile.

“Good morning, sir. Pleasure having you here, how can I be of help?” I questioned.

His gaze flitted down my body as if drinking in my attire. Then impassively, he looked away and searched the premises.

“Who’s in charge here?” he asked dryly in a deep, commanding voice. Something about the absolute power in his tone made tingles run down my body.

I tried to stand taller, and for better emphasis, folded my arms. Maybe because I hated having him tower over me like that. “Well, at the moment, I am.”

Once again, his icy blue eyes regarded me reluctantly, and possibly, out of obligation, he stretched out his sturdy arm for a handshake.

“Lennox Wilder. Are there still openings for more students here?”

I took his firm hand and momentarily basked in the warmth that radiated from it. My dad once told me that you can learn a lot about a man by the feel of his handshake. His emitted dominance.

“I’m Verity Brooks…just V for short, please. Nice meeting you, Mr. Wilder. You dance? In that suit, I wouldn’t have pinned you as a dance—” The words died on my lips when a little scowl formed on his gorgeous face.

He pulled his hand away from mine and rolled his eyes. “I’m not here to dance, Miss Brooks. Certainly, you can see the little girl in a tutu beside me.”

“Hey, I’m not little!” For the first time, I fully paid attention to the significantly younger girl as she nudged him with her elbow. Clad in a black tutu, the girl glared at me with bright blue eyes, which were identical to his. Who even wears a black tutu?

“Oh…oh my goodness, I’m so sorry for the mix up.” Amused, I laughed lightly. “This is so embarrassing.”

Mr. Wilder didn’t seem the least bit amused. Instead, he took a quick glance at his wristwatch and asked again. “Is there an opening?”

“Oh, yes, there is. Follow me, please.” Waving over at them, I led the way over to Mr. Covel’s office, which I was currently occupying in his absence. There was a period when he was always around to run things, but with time, the responsibilities of being a father had him tied down to family and personal duties. So, I had to step in to take up the executive responsibilities, such as registering new participants, record analysis, and finance management.

We all walked into the office, which was only occupied by a large desk and two sofa chairs facing it. Save for the file cabinets and a few furniture items, the white-themed room was empty.

“Please, take a seat,” I said as I sat down in the executive swivel chair.

Mr. Wilder’s commanding presence seemed to fill the room, and in so many ways, he seemed out of place. Gracefully, he leaned back comfortably into his chair, and just like before, pinned his intense eyes on me like he was assessing the littlest fibre of my being. I tried not to fidget as I reached for the registration papers scattered on the mahogany desk.

Clearing my throat, I smiled painfully at the duo. “Let me officially welcome you two to All That Jazz Dance School, founded by Mr. Covel in 2002—”

“I don’t have the luxury of time, Miss Brooks. I’d deeply appreciate it if I could sign the papers already.”

The arrogance in his tone flattened me and the blatant cockiness on his face made my eyebrows shoot up. He must have expected me to quickly scurry about and hand him the papers with the way he cocked a single brow at me. But instead of doing that, I couldn’t help but glare at him. He was definitely a man who was used to getting his way, given the aura of authority he carried. One word from him and people were bound to bow. Well, too bad for him because I was the authority at this dance school, and he wouldn’t sway me that easily.

“Excuse you, Mr. Wilder.” I made sure to enunciate every syllable of his name. “We have protocols at this dance school and that includes giving our clients a brief rundown. If you don’t have ‘the luxury of time’ to listen to that, then I don’t think I have the ‘luxury of time’ to attend to you either,” I said concisely and never broke eye contact with him to make sure each sentence sank in.

For the next few seconds, we silently exchanged an unblinking stare down, and by every hair on my body, I gave it my all not to flinch from his hard eyes. It was a battle of wills, to say the least. He seemed unfazed by my words, and after a whole minute, he glanced down at his wristwatch, spared the little girl a look, then subtly rolled his eyes.

“Very well then, go on,” was his only response, even though the grim line drawn across his lips spoke volumes of his absolute displeasure. Good.

Smiling sweetly, I responded. “Thank you.”

With that finalized, I went on to introduce them to ATJ on a grand scale. I gave them a rundown on the type of dance classes we held, including our required fees, and even though Mr. Wilder kept checking his wristwatch, he never for once interrupted. He only suffocated me with the irritation in his cutting eyes.

“And that’s all!” I concluded and passed Mr. Wilder the registration form for the girl. I assumed she was perhaps his sister because of their uncanny resemblance and the fact that there was no ring on his finger. I checked…

Pulling out a fancy pen from his pocket, he filled the guardian form with a certain raptness and once he was done, he gave the papers to the girl. While she was busy filling in the participant’s part, I tilted my head at Mr. Wilder.

“What’s your wish this Christmas?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

He looked up at me and cocked that arrogant brow of his. “Respectfully, I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Miss Brooks.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and rested my head on my propped-up hand. “It’s not, but I can’t help but wonder what a man like you could possibly wish for on Christmas. Maybe puppies? Or maybe a pink suit? Pink is a cool colour.”

His blue eyes narrowed at me in subtle confusion, and then, he proceeded to roll them. “Well, if you must know, I think Christmas is a pointless holiday and wishing on it is just as pointless. Not just pointless, it’s stupid.”

My mouth hung open instantly and a small frown clouded my features. “What? How can you say that? Christmas is n-not stupid…it’s a season for joy and gifts and—"

“Miracles?” Mr. Wilder cut me off and breathed out a mirthless chuckle. “Or were you gonna say Santa? Obviously, you’re in desperate need of a reality check, Miss Brooks.”

I folded my arms and glared lightly. “You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like the Grinch.”

“I’ll pick the Grinch over being an adult stuck in a kid’s fantasy.”

“Are you trying to imply something here, Mr. Wilder?” I sat up and narrowed my eyes at his unapologetic stare.

Infuriatingly, he gave off a half-hearted shrug and a ghost of an amused smile flitted across his features. “And what exactly do you think I’m trying to imply, Miss Brooks?”

I scowled. “That I’m an adult stuck ‘in a kid’s fantasy.’”

His lips tugged up further. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Done!” the girl exclaimed, dumping the documents on the table, but neither of us paid any mind to her. His absorbing gaze held mine and despite my annoyance, I couldn’t look away from this maddening yet exquisitely attractive man lounging gracefully on the seat in front of me. Something lingered in the air that made me hold his gaze. We regarded each other silently for a second too long before I broke away from his eyes, and not just because I felt their intensity on every inch of my body. However, he never looked away.

I cleared my throat, taking a quick moment to gather all my wits as I reached forward and examined the collected documents from the girl. Flipping through the files, I scanned through the girl’s information written in small scribbles.

“Shayetta Wilder; lovely name for a lovely girl. I can call you Shaye, right?” I smiled at her briefly before I took up my ballpoint pen to add my own signature to the documents.

For some reason, the 12-year-old glared at me, much to my bewilderment. “That’s reserved for friends only. It’s Shayetta to you.”

I didn’t miss the little smirk that flitted across Mr. Wilder’s expression, and I paused in my scribbling to frown at the duo in front of me. With an identical impassive expression, they returned quite the stare. How could two people be so grouchy? Was it a DNA thing? Well, based on their straight-faced resemblance, it was an established fact.

Nonetheless, I mustered up a smirk of my own. “Hmm, I do like a good challenge, Shaye.”

“Shayetta.” She scowled.

“Noted, Shaye.”

“Shayetta.”

“My bad, Shay—”

“Are we done here?” His bored voice cut through our little back and forth. However, when I looked at him, the sides of his lips were quirked up ever so slightly and amusement burned lightly in his blue eyes. It prompted a surge of warmth in my belly.

“Actually, yes, we are.” I stood up and rounded the table while they got to their feet as well. “I’ll be showing Shaye to our classes now. Is that fine with you, sir?”

“Yes,” he said, adjusting his tie, and for some reason I couldn’t quite understand, a glint of mischief flitted across his eyes when he looked back at me.

I tried not to dwell too much on it as we left the office and I led them through, briefly pointing out other practice rooms we had. Once we got to the children’s dance room corridor, we stopped at the entrance, and given that music was pumping from inside, I guessed that the rest of the class was at it already.

“Here’s our stop. From this point, Shaye is officially part of the ATJ family,” I said proudly.

“Sounds delightful,” he muttered with obvious sarcasm. Then, he turned to Shaye. I didn’t miss the downcast frown that marked her face. It seemed that Mr. Wilder noticed it too because there was a quick switch in his hard eyes to a softer look.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, his tone laced with genuine concern, and really, it was a sight to see. Curious as well, I turned my attention to Shaye.

She was silent for a few seconds, then her pretty face formed a deep scowl. “I don’t want to be here. I hate everything about this town! You promised, Dad.”

My jaws dropped instantly. Dad? Dad! She just called Mr. Grouchy Pants here ‘Dad.’ My eyes zeroed in on their uncanny resemblance and I had to hold back from screaming in realization. How could I have missed it? That explained where Shaye got her grouchiness from. It really was a DNA thing.

“What! You’re her father?” I blurted out.

Suddenly, Mr. Wilder seemed significantly older and when he glanced over with a sharp glare, I couldn’t help but wonder how old he was. He barely looked a day over 30, especially since he had no ring on his finger and he still looked quite ravishing.

“Do you not have respect for our privacy, Miss Brooks?” he questioned.

“Oh, my bad. But you being her dad was unexpected,” I said, my mouth still hanging open. When Mr. Wilder’s irritated expression only deepened, I gave off a nervous laugh. “I’ll let you two be alone now.”

Excusing myself, I stood by the corner and couldn’t quite shake off the fact that Mr. Wilder, wickedly attractive as he was, was a father. Did that mean he was married? Not that I was interested in him in any way. He was way too serious for his own good that cancelled him from being my type. And well, the fact that he was literally a participant’s parent too.

Watching them from a distance, I could see now Mr. Wilder’s tenderness towards Shaye. The way he spoke calmly to her and the genuine smiles that followed. It made me wonder what he was telling her. After a while, he waved me over.

“I’m entrusting Shayetta to your care, Miss Brooks. She’s in safe hands, no?” His expression was awfully grim and the warning in his icy eyes was apparent. Where had the soft smiling man gone?

“She couldn’t be safer. I’m literally a safety cushion with human parts.” I grinned.

His eyes narrowed. “Right.”

“Plus,” I continued, and without giving her a moment to prepare for it, I pulled Shaye’s hand and brought her to my side. “If she really loves dance, then she’ll absolutely love it here. You can have my word for it.” Shaye tore her hands away from me, but I tried not to pay attention to that.

“Very well then. I don’t have much of a choice here.” Just like before, he stretched out his arm and held my eyes deeply when we shook hands. “It was…interesting meeting you, Miss Brooks.”

When I pulled my hand away, the warmth of his firm handshake lingered, and trailed down my body.

“I could say the same. You can just call me Verity…or preferably, V.”

A ghost of a smirk graced his features. “Noted, Miss Brooks.”