destined to stop most red-blooded males in their tracks.
Xandro froze in place, his breath trapped in his lungs as he got a first real-life view of Sage Woods.
Her long, elegant neck tapered to shoulders that were slim but perfectly sculpted. Sleek, well-toned arms swung gracefully as she walked with light, measured steps.
Her posture was exquisite, her spine straight as she moved to the centre of the stage. The moment she turned to fully face the empty seats, Xandro felt a powerful, primitive tug to his groin. He was too busy taking in her remaining features to shove the unwanted sensation aside. His phone forgotten, he continued to stare at the statuesque beauty, absently wondering when he’d last stopped long enough to appreciate such an exquisite creature.
The world he lived in provided him with an endless array of both natural and artificial beauty. But most of it came primped, polished and packaged for maximum attention-seeking effect. The woman standing before him, believing herself to be alone, wore not a single scrap of make-up, jewellery or even shoes. And yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He let his gaze drop to her trim waist, the feline, feminine flare of her hips, the strong, toned thighs and the long, shapely legs and delicate ankles.
As he watched, she pulled a tiny MP4 player out of her waistband. Head lowered, her forehead was caught in a tiny frown as she unwound the string of the earbuds and placed one in each ear.
Xandro slowly folded his arms as she secured the gadget to her arm. He frowned with displeasure and wondered whether it was because her means of supplying the music was impractical or because he felt robbed of the ability to hear it.
Neither was enough to distract him from observing her though. Witnessing the moment she went from completely still to an explosion of movement so captivating, his arms dropped and his breath stalled in his lungs.
Xandro stood, entranced by the power and control of her motions that could only be achieved by years of dedicated training.
He wasn’t aware of how much time passed as he watched her, wasn’t aware of the sensation flooding his mouth until he was forced to swallow before doing something unseemly, like drool.
When his lungs screamed with the need for oxygen he finally took a heavy breath. Shook his head to clear the haze threatening to take it over.
He hadn’t reached the level of astronomic success he’d never even dared to dream of without paying attention to the minutiae. With his focus on finding her and extracting the whereabouts of her brother, he’d only cursorily paid attention to the form of dance Benjamin Woods’s sister specialised in. Now it came to him in a flash. She was a contemporary dancer with a ballet background.
Some of her movements reminded him of his mother’s dancing. The rare times Xandro had managed to convince her to give in to the music she loved, she’d exhibited a talent that had taken his breath away.
Of course, those moments had been very few and far between, the reality of their harsh existence a dark, oppressive presence. It was why he’d treasured those moments.
The unique combination of both forms of art manifested in incredible movement as Sage danced to the music only she could hear. Music he himself yearned to hear. If only to judge for himself that it matched her rhythm.
Nothing else.
Because he couldn’t possibly wonder what sort of music was making her move so beautifully, so sensuously. Whether his mother would’ve liked it—
‘Excuse me? Can I help you?’
He stiffened, more than a little irritated that he’d been so absorbed in his thoughts that he’d hadn’t realised she’d stopped. That he had moved from the shadows of the doorway to the dimly lit front row and even now stood staring up at her.
Irritation grew to annoyance. He was here for one reason only, and it wasn’t to be spellbound by a stranger’s performance.
‘Are you Sage Woods?’ He heard the snap in his voice and felt zero remorse for it.
He was close enough to see her tense, to catch her eyes flick over him as she pulled the earbuds from her ears, draping them around her neck as she made up her mind whether he was friend or foe.
‘That depends,’ she answered eventually in a firm, husky voice.
‘On what?’
‘On who’s asking. And on you telling me what you’re doing here,’ she replied.
He pushed away the stirring effect of her voice on his irritated senses. ‘This is a dance company, not a secret government facility. I don’t require special permission to be here.’
Full lips pursed. ‘This is a private session, booked and paid for by me. There’s a sign above the door that says “No audience allowed”.’
He shrugged. ‘Your security must be lax then, since here I am.’
Her tension mounted. Her gaze moved from him to the door and back again. ‘You’re wearing a three-piece suit and a frown that says someone’s kicked mud onto your favourite shoes. So unless you’re here to audition for grumpy CEO in a Broadway show, you’re in the wrong place. And before you get any ideas about making something up, trust me, I know all the auditions taking place in the school for the next three months. You don’t belong here. Leave before I call Security.’
In another circumstances he would’ve admired her spunk. ‘Are you always this suspicious of strangers?’
‘Yes.’
‘And why is that, Miss Woods?’
Eyes he wasn’t sure were green or grey flicked over him once again before she raised her chin. ‘Aren’t you being a little presumptuous? I haven’t said I am who you think I am.’
‘Deny that you are and I’ll leave,’ Xandro challenged.
‘We both know that’s not true.’
‘Do we?’
Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘You don’t seem to be the kind of person to take no for an answer since you’re still here, eating into my training time.’
‘How very...astute of you. Are we ready to stop playing games now?’
‘I wasn’t playing,’ she replied stiffly.
He strolled to the edge of where the auditorium floor met the elevated stage, and felt almost gratified when she took a wary step back. ‘Good. Neither was I. My name is Xandro Christofides. Give me the answers I need and I’ll let you carry on with your training.’
‘Let me?’
‘Yes, I’ll let you.’ Perhaps it was being caught off guard that hardened his tone even further. Or the unsettling knowledge that Sage Woods would have something in common with his mother mixed in with the absurd ache inside him that, forty-eight hours after the theft, seemed to show no signs of abating.
Either way, he intended to conclude this matter swiftly and return the events of the past where they belonged, locked in an emotionless safe, where his possession should’ve been. ‘Or we can go for the less satisfactory option of you
