it. But that’s not to say there is anything wrong with your delicate alabaster skin. You just need to keep out of the sun more than me.’ As he held her hand in the back of the cab, his thumb caressed her palm and she could feel his warmth as tingles raced up her arm. ‘My nan is Aboriginal, and just in case you hadn’t worked it out, that’s where I get my exceptional sense of tribal rhythm.’
She couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Well, of course! I’d like to see some of that rhythm one day.’
She had never been so comfortable talking to a member of the opposite sex. He was so easygoing that she felt completely relaxed, laughing and chatting to him without any self-consciousness or pretence.
‘I’m hoping you’ll get that chance tonight when we hit the dance floor – unless you’re referring to my tennis?’
‘So cheeky! I’d love to see both.’
They looked at each other and smiled, both sensing their relationship was set to move way beyond their last fleeting yet fortuitous meeting.
The driver turned off Kensington High Street onto Derry Street and pulled over. Noah promptly paid and jumped out to open Eloise’s door, and they made their way up in the lift to The Roof Gardens, Virgin’s rooftop club.
She had heard about the club from some of the other dancers, but had never been there before. It was weird having lived in London for so long yet realising there was still so much to discover and experience.
‘Normally it wouldn’t be open tonight. One of the perks of being sponsored by Virgin, I guess,’ he said with a cheeky wink.
‘Ah, I see!’ She smiled back.
‘Come on.’ He grabbed hold of her hand and excitedly headed towards the bar. ‘Tommy makes awesome cocktails. I’ll introduce you.’
Eloise couldn’t believe the size and lushness of the rooftop garden. The flora looked almost technicoloured against the somewhat monochromatic landscape of London.
They found a table for two within the garden, and just as they had settled in, two French pear martinis arrived along with some canapés, compliments of the chef. Just as Noah had promised, they would be drinking something stronger than a pint. Eloise was not used to spirits, but the fresh-tasting vodka and champagne concoction slid down her throat all too easily, while their discussion flowed effortlessly amidst interruptions of congratulations from the staff, who obviously knew Noah well.
The grey clouds in the sky turned a vivid orange as the sun finally began to set on the mild evening. Eloise couldn’t remember a night out when she had felt so at ease; this was one of the rare occasions when she was able to have a few drinks without having to worry about a performance the next day. It was on this basis that she happily reached for her second martini when another round of drinks arrived at their table as if by magic.
‘So, what’s next for you in the tennis schedule?’
‘I’m hanging around London for a week to catch up with some friends, before heading to Hamburg for the German Championships. Then it’s off to America to prepare for the US Open.’
‘You don’t get too much downtime after something as major as Wimbledon.’
‘I suppose not, though it would be much the same for you, wouldn’t it? With your performances and travel.’
Eloise shifted slightly in her seat. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about having left the Royal Ballet and wasn’t sure exactly what to say.
‘I’m sorry, have I said something wrong? It’s just that when we met you mentioned dance, travel …’ His voice trailed off. ‘Are you no longer performing?’
‘Well, I’m no longer with the Royal Ballet, so I’m not performing quite like I used to …’
‘And are you going to elaborate on that, or will I have to ply you with straight martinis to get to the truth?’ he asked jokingly, just as she noticed the delicious impact of vodka filtering through her body.
She deliberately placed her glass back on the table and picked up a coconut crumbed prawn to dip into the tangy sauce alongside it. ‘You know how I mentioned a decision the afternoon we met?’
‘Sure, and talked about taking risks.’
‘Well, I ended up accepting the risks and everything else that came with them. And here I am, now indirectly part of the tennis world.’
‘Whoa, wait up! Really? You weren’t just there for the final like thousands of other fans?’
‘Not exactly …’ She wasn’t sure how much she should mention with her mind already feeling a little blurred. She had signed a confidentiality agreement as part of Caesar’s requirements and didn’t want to jeopardise anything by having loose lips.
‘At the moment, I only perform for Ivan,’ she said rather sheepishly as she glanced towards Noah, who had raised his eyebrows at this admission. ‘He loves ballet,’ she added, as if that disclosure should explain everything.
‘Wow. I’ve never heard of anything like that.’
‘Yeah, it was weird for me at first, but now I really enjoy it. Each time I’ve danced for him, he’s won. That is, up until today.’ She absently wondered how he was taking the loss.
‘So, if I become Number One in the world, will you dance for me too?’
So thrown was Eloise by the accuracy of his mischievous offhand query that she quickly reached for her martini and drank the remainder down in one gulp.
Noah could sense her unease. ‘Hey, it’s OK. As long as you’re happy, it’s none of my business. Honestly.’ He squeezed her hand as she tried to compose herself.
‘Nothing makes me happier than when I’m dancing. But tonight, I’m very happy that I’m out with you,’ she added sincerely.
Noah sensed she wanted to drop the subject, so he dabbed his mouth with a serviette and readily accepted her compliment. ‘Well, if dancing makes you happy and I do too, let’s go get some groove on to the music.’
If anyone else had said the words, she would have thought they were nerdy, but coming from Noah they felt exactly right. There was no denying he was gorgeous and lovable, and he made her feel as light and carefree as a feather. She knew she could never deny anything that kept him smiling. She accepted his hand graciously, and the next few hours slipped into a fun-loving blur.
* * *
The next morning she awoke in her suite at the Dorchester to find two envelopes under the door. She opened the top one first, recognising Ivan’s crisp white stationery. Fleetingly she wondered whether she might be in some trouble, then immediately pushed the thought from her mind.
I have returned to St Petersburg and will not be requiring any performances from you for the next ten days.
The impersonal nature of the note felt like a punch in the gut, though she shouldn’t have been surprised; he was never one for small talk, or much talk at all, for that matter.
