Lusty Billionaires Bundle(17)

But tonight there was no escape.

There hadn’t been for five days.

Five long days and five even longer nights. Days spent chasing banks, building societies, waiting for the call that would save her grandmother, the gnawing panic of debt snapping at her heels. But they paled in comparison to the agony of the nights. Lonely nights waiting for a call of a different kind, tossing and turning, watching the moon drift past her window, the Southern Cross twinkling in the inky sky a constant reminder of her insignificance.

There was no refuge.

Now, as she danced, every response in her body, every surge of emotion seemed paltry, a pale imitation of what she had felt under Zavier’s masterful touch.

A one-night stand. It sounded cheap, sordid—sexual gratification for the sake of it. A primitive meeting of desires, then walking away without a backward glance.

But it hadn’t been like that for Tabitha. She hadn’t walked away without a glance. Her mind was constantly there, remembering the bliss of him. He had hurt her, embarrassed her, humiliated her, yet…51

In his arms, wrapped around his body, when the velvet endearments had poured like silk from his lips, she had found the solace she hadn’t realised she’d craved, felt the mastery of his touch, glimpsed the impossible fantasy of being loved by Zavier.

Loved.

The word echoed through her mind like a mocking taunt.

There was nothing transitory about it.

So tonight Tabitha danced, danced because she had to, because it was her job, her livelihood, and she danced well—but nothing like the way she had for Zavier. And this time when the curtain came down she didn’t rush off stage with the other dancers, because tonight there was no rush to get home, no haste to get into her large lonely bed and dream her impossible dreams.

The high-spirited chatter, the buzz of euphoria that came with the end of each show seemed to be in another language as she listlessly pulled off her costume, her dusty tights discarded on the even dustier main dressing room floor as Tabitha rummaged in her bag for her wrap.

‘There’s a Mr Chambers here to see you.’ Marcus the stagehand sounded as put out as ever, and Tabitha gave him an apologetic smile as she turned to greet her friend. Aiden was becoming a regular feature backstage, his excuses to Marcus legendary as he wrestled with a reason not to drink alone.#p#分页标题#e#

‘So what was the crisis tonight? Has your pet goldfish finally succumbed…?’

Her teasing sentence died on her lips as she stared into the face of Zavier, as familiar as her own, the face that had filled her dreams, fuelled her imagination since the moment she met him.

‘Nothing quite so dramatic.’ He made his way over, the sea of dancers parting, staring shamelessly from him to Tabitha, undisguised admiration on their faces. ‘I have to go to America in the morning and I thought we ought to go over some details.’

‘Details?’ Her perplexed voice was barely audible as she stared at him dumbfounded.

Only as his eyes flicked down to her pink, glistening body did she become acutely aware of the fact that all she was wearing was a flesh-coloured G-string. It had never been an issue—the changing room was permanently littered with naked bodies—but under Zavier’s gaze there was nothing casual in her nakedness, no innocence in the way her body responded to his mere presence. She had dreamed of this moment, determined that when—if—she ever saw him again, she would look cool and aloof; she had even gone so far as to practise in the mirror—a gentle furrowing of her brow, a slight snap of her fingers as she tried to recall his name.

A wasted effort.

There was nothing sophisticated in the way he had found her, nothing aloof about the burning blush creeping over her near-naked body.

‘The wedding—it’s only four weeks away. We really ought to be finalising a few things.’ The usual post-performance gaggle was deathly quiet, every ear straining to hear, every eye on them. ‘Marcus?’

She vaguely registered Zavier turn to the stagehand, noticing how strange it was that he knew his name, how even Marcus seemed only too happy to please the might that was Zavier Chambers.

‘Is there somewhere we could go? Somewhere a bit more private?’ He flashed a malevolent smile at a mute Tabitha. ‘My fiancée looks as if she might need to sit down.’

It only took a moment to dress, to drape her wrap around her, to pull on her short Lycra skirt and slip on some sandals, but it felt like a lifetime. The eyes of her colleagues, her friends, her boss, were on her, but they didn’t compare to the heavy stare of Zavier, the impatience in his stance as she fiddled to tie her wrap.