* * *
Blake was intrigued. He’d bedded her already, and most of the time that was when his interest stopped, but she was something else. Even before he’d seen the blog post about them leaving the benefit together, which his sister had been so kind as to forward to him with a message that this one sounded a whole lot more promising than the airheads he’d been photographed with other times.
Blake kept eating his waffles, not wanting to stare at her and make her uncomfortable. He believed her that this wasn’t her usual scene—she’d looked like a deer in headlights when he’d come back into the bedroom after hearing that she’d woken. His first instinct had been to dive straight back under the covers, until he’d seen her face and changed his mind. He still wanted her—he just wasn’t going to be so forward.
Having a late breakfast with her and relaxing for once was making it clear he’d been way too focused on work the last few months. He’d become so determined not to buckle under the pressure and settle down, just because it would be good for business, but he was starting to realize he’d been missing out.
Saffron’s red hair looked darker in the morning. Maybe it was the lack of bright lights, but it still looked incredible. The richest color against skin the lightest, barely there shade of gold, and dark brown eyes that just kept on drawing him in. He cleared his throat and set down his fork.
“Come on, what happened? Maybe I can help?” He doubted it, but he wanted to hear the story, and if she needed help finding work or someone to assist her with whatever injury she had, he did have helpful contacts.
His phone buzzed and he quickly glanced at it, not wanting to be rude by picking it up. He could read just enough of the text to see it was from his assistant and that the investor he’d been trying to impress had seen the paparazzi story. Great. Just when he’d been making some headway, now he was going to be labeled the rich playboy again.
“Nobody can help me,” she said in a low voice. “Most dancers get injured and that’s it, they’re injured. Me, I’m out. Which means my career is over, because soon I’ll have to go home with my tail between my legs, the washed-up former ballerina. I don’t have enough money to stay here without working, and my physical therapy and specialist bills are crazy.”
Blake frowned, forgetting the text and focusing on Saffron. “There’s no other way for you to stay here?”
Saffron picked at her food, taking a mouthful that he was sure was a delaying tactic. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were swimming. Big brown pools of hurt, bathed in unshed tears.
“I had a dream of dancing with the best ballet companies in the world, right from when I was a kid. I used to practice so hard, train my heart out and eventually it paid off.” He listened as she blew out a big breath, sending a few tendrils of shorter hair around her face up into the air. “My hours of practicing got me noticed at the Lexington Ballet School in Kentucky, and eventually it turned into a dance scholarship with the New York Ballet Company. I started training there, danced my heart out and eventually went on to be an apprentice by the time I was eighteen.”
“Wait, you moved to New York on your own before you were even eighteen? How old were you when you got the scholarship?” He knew plenty of models and other creative types started their careers early, but he’d never really thought about teenagers making such a big leap on their own. “Your parents didn’t come, too?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Just me. I stayed with a relative for the first few months, then I moved into an apartment with some other dancers. I was only seventeen when I officially went out on my own, but I was so determined and focused on what I was doing that my parents didn’t have any other choice. I would have resented them for the rest of my life if they hadn’t let me come.”
He got that. They’d let her follow her dream, and he admired any parent who encouraged their kids. “And then what? You make it sound like your career has already ended, like there isn’t any hope.” Blake hated hearing her talk as if it was over. She was doing what she wanted to be doing, and nobody was trying to hold her back, stifle her dreams.
“I tore three ligaments in my leg one night when I was dancing Swan Lake. I was finally in the role I wanted, as the lead, and I didn’t even dance for an entire season at the top before my accident.” She was looking away now, couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. Blake wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t, couldn’t. The pain of what he’d lost and left behind was too raw for him, and he was barely coping with it on his own without having to help someone else.
“You could recover from that,” he said gently, careful to choose the right words.
“No, I won’t. I have a form of arthritis that I’ve battled for years. It first showed when I was stressed over a big performance, and in the past my doctors have been able to manage it. But from what I’ve been told, we’re past that point now. That’s why I’m out, why they wouldn’t just let me stay on leave due to injury. They don’t ever expect me to make a full recovery.”
Blake steeled his jaw, hating that someone had had the nerve to put a damper on her dreams. On anyone’s dreams. As far as he was concerned, the fight was worth it until the very last.
“You need to see more specialists, research more treatment, get your body strong again,” he told her, wishing his voice didn’t sound so raspy and harsh. “You can’t take no for an answer when you’re so close to living that dream.”
Her eyes were angry, glaring when she met his gaze. “Don’t you think I’ve done everything? As much as I could?”
He held up both his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that. I just...”
“I don’t need to be told what to do,” she said angrily, still holding his stare. “The only thing that will save me now is winning the lottery or a miracle. Money is the only way I can stay a part of this world, to keep searching for help, trying to keep training. Either money or a new treatment to help me get back on stage.” She slumped forward, looked defeated. “Instead I’ll be back in Hicksville, the girl who had so much potential and still ended up a nobody.”
Blake bunched his fists, wished there was something he could do. He didn’t know why her situation made him so angry, but it did.
Just then his phone buzzed and he glanced at it quickly. He read the screen, cursed his sister for wanting to be so involved in his love life.
So? Spill! Is she really a ballerina? She looked gorgeous. Keep this one!
Blake didn’t bother replying, not about to engage with his younger sister over anything personal. And then he looked up and found Saffron watching him, her full lips parted, dark eyes trained on his.
She needed a way to stay in New York. He needed a wife.
He pushed his sister from his mind and pulled his bar stool closer to Saffron’s, thinking that she was the most intriguing, beautiful woman he’d met in a long time. He didn’t want to be married to anyone, but the truth was, he needed to be. That text just before was a slap-in-the-face kind of reminder. He was at the helm of a family business that was worth tens of millions of dollars, and he needed to maintain the right image. They were negotiating for a huge contract, one worth millions over the next two years alone, not to mention the investors he was trying to bring on board to grow the business. But his biggest potential investor had made it beyond clear that he was worried about Blake’s playboy status, didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t settled
