Things never seemed to go as planned.

Victor stood on the polished dance floor with his eyes closed. He threw back his head and counted to ten before scowling down at his partner.

The pink-haired girl standing across from him exemplified loveliness. Dark leggings and a figure-hugging cutoff displayed the best of her athletic figure. Her dainty feet were clad in three-inch camel-colored heels, accentuating her shapely legs. The only problem—

She scowled back at him.

He gazed around the nearly empty ballroom as a diversion. The newest instructor, Aoife O'Sullivan, practiced alone in front of one of the mirrors, side-eying their practice. Victor's offer to help the dark-haired girl had been met with a hostile 'no.' The new receptionist, Ally Heis, sat at the front desk typing on the computer, her poppy red lips pressed together as she checked her work. The studio manager had hired the young woman as a replacement for the former receptionist who'd suddenly quit. Unlike Aoife, Ally had been a hit with the staff.

For Victor, walking into the studio was like wandering into a world centered around the spellbinding beauty of dance. He loved the pristine reception area, complete with logo and trophies, many of them his own. The spacious prep area, cozy sofas, tables, and chairs, surrounded the polished wooden floor. The back wall, covered with frameless, full-length mirrors, made the space appear more prominent. Large Palladian windows enhanced the room's grandeur by delivering an abundance of natural light.

He sighed, letting the irritation drain from his face— back to work. "Kristy, I dare say you understand the premise of a trust fall is trusting I'll catch you?"

"And do you understand with me wearing these stilts of death—" She gestured at her shoes. "I'll fall if you aren't there?" Kristy grumbled under her breath. "You won't let me use any magic."

"What will people say if you fall back and float two feet off the ground unaided, I'd like to know?"

The genie folded her toned arms and cocked a hip outward as she glared at him. "They'd say I'm talented. Abs of steel."

Victor snickered and moved closer, cupping the delicate face in his hands. He gazed into her sapphire eyes and whispered, "You know I'll always be there, love, to catch you if you fall."

Kristy studied him for a moment before her hands moved to rub his upper arms. "I don't deserve you."

Victor understood what deterred the genie—guilt from her part in Arabella's plan to capture and use him for breeding magi. It hindered her performance, causing her to hold back. At the time, the witch had owned Kristy's Focus, the source of her power, and was, by genie law, her master. Jason had broken the old Focus, and Victor had luckily secured Kristy a new one.

It still pained him when he thought of the agonizing minutes she'd been enthralled by him, calling him 'master.' Giving Kristy possession of the new power source had been a relief.

But he hadn't freed her from the guilt.

"Y'all just gonna stand there gazing into each other's eyes?"

They turned to stare at the short-haired female lounging on the nearest sofa. Tammy Roberts, the self-proclaimed queen of fashion, sported a burgundy 'Once You Go Black You Never Go Back' t-shirt that blended in with the sofa coverings. The girl crossed her legs, her raised foot jiggling in its expensive combat boot. "If you're done, Kris and I are going to that new rib place on Main Street. I got my mouth all set for some rib tips."

Kristy's eyes lit up with greed. "Ribs?"

"Ribs?" Victor frowned at Tammy. "A rare steak with roasted potatoes sounds better."

"Rare?" Tammy scoffed. "I ain't eating nothing running red like it's on its period." 

The little genie tinkled with laughter while Victor gagged. "Gross! Just give us a bit to work out a problem. Besides, you said you wanted to watch."

"Bruh, I'll happily watch dancing or smut." Tammy wiggled her eyebrows as she fluffed her natural curls. "Both make me hungry."

Rolling his eyes, Victor turned back to the problem with Kristy. He'd been amazed at her talent from the time they'd first danced together. She had flown through the newcomer and bronze status in weeks without magic. Whatever form of dance they taught in the genie realm must have similar techniques.

He trained her pro bono, praying the owner, Marta, would notice how well they vibed together even though Kristy had not reached his gold ranking. Victor had high hopes Marta would consider making her his permanent partner. For years he'd wanted a partnership, but Marta had refused all askers, claiming they would know when the right one came along. He never protested, but now he considered himself the Romeo who had finally found his Juliet.

An idea came to mind as he gazed at the stewing girl. She'd said genies were passionate about music. If he set the stage perfectly, the right music might push her past her cautious nature.

Victor raised a finger. "Just popping out to grab something, love."

The teen dashed to the staff room, leaving a confused Kristy on the floor. He opened the community clothing closet and stripped off his shirt, tossing it next to his pullover on the bench. He selected a black and gold bolero jacket, his favorite of the lot. Although not a custom fit and inexpensive compared to others, he loved the fine detailing and gold threading. Victor slipped off his practice shoes and padded to his staff locker, pulling out a pair of Cuban dance shoes with a higher heel. Last, he picked out a long, wide red skirt that resembled a cape and draped it over his arm.

He stopped to stare at himself in the cloudy mirror behind the door. The jacket opened to show a good deal of defined pecs and tight and toned abdominal muscles that came with exercise, diet, and discipline. The look was sensual without the shirt he usually wore under the bolero. A bashful lad, Victor wore tank tops on the beach.

He strolled toward the genie with the skirt in hand, ignoring Tammy's wolf whistles as the scarlet blush rushed up his cheeks. Kristy raised an eyebrow at his change of attire.

"We're going to dance the Paso routine all out, no holding back. Come to me, love."

She stepped forward. He wrapped the flaring skirt around her small waist, securing it with the Velcro fastener. Kristy moved back and turned, the skirt billowing around her. Grasping the edges, she waved it from left and right. "I love how it flares!" She spun again.

"It's red as it represents the matador's cape." He skipped back to the sound system, setting the music on a thirty-second delay. "We'll dance to España Cañí, which means 'Gypsy Spain' in Spanish. It's a famous instrumental Spanish piece of Paso Doble music." He moved back to the girl. "Use the skirt like in the video we watched. And remember your forward steps, or walks, should be strong and proud when dancing the Paso."

"Vic, if I walk any stronger or prouder, I'll look like I'm about to beat somebody up."

"Good."

During the opening strains of the music, Victor mentally pushed himself into the role of the bullfighter, alone in the sandy arena with only his skill and cape for protection. His expression became serious as his arms rose gracefully above his head. He stamped his foot as if striking the ground to capture the bull's attention. Kristy—playing the part of the cape— snapped the folds of her skirt and held the ends up as if spreading her wings.

And they were off.

Dramatic dancing was his forte. Victor stepped forward with his heel, firm and proud, his arms and hands moving in artistic patterns. The dancers' movements were sharp and quick, with heads and chests held high to show the arrogance and dignity of the bullfight. Both spiraled, once, twice, three times before their hands met, and the storytelling began.

Immersing himself in the role of the matador, Victor kept a hold on the girl, his feet marching while shaping the genie from left to right. Kristy played her part well, moving in one direction until he shifted her to another. The interchanges became more intense as they flew across the floor, displaying fierce flamenco-style footwork. Victor posed with theatrical gestures as Kristy pranced around him, always close as they remained rigid and connected. 

Snapping her skirt, Kristy launched her attack as she assumed the role of the bull. Her hand splayed across his bare chest as she danced him backward, his left hip moving away from the imaginary bull's horn. Their eyes glared at one another, the looks penetrating and profound.

He whipped Kristy around in a way that mimicked the matador's cape before separating to stand side by side and perform a series of flamenco taps. Pleased to see the girl consumed by the gypsy influences of the music, bold in its marching rhythm, he upped the stakes, throwing in more flair and punch to his moves, daring her to join him. To his delight, the enraptured Kristy responded.

The end came, and Kristy spun away. She crossed her delicate ankles, then fell backward—

—and was caught by a pair of strong arms.

"Congrats, you're a ledge," whispered Victor, his face inches from hers. She threw gleeful arms around his neck as he pulled her upright.

Her dazzling eyes shone with pleasure. "I did it!"

"Okay y'all, that was dope!" Both looked over to see a thrilled Tammy standing on the edge of the floor, eyes wide with admiration. "You had me waving hands like a church lady in the choir!" Tammy began fanning herself. "Whew! That was like watching an intense drama."

The receptionist had left her post to watch the exhibition. "I totally agree." Ally flicked her curtain of honey-brown hair back from her pretty face. "Almost started biting my nails."

Aoife stood on the sidelines, watching but said nothing. She turned back to the mirror, continuing her practice.

"That means we did it right." Victor turned to Kristy with a lopsided grin. "Success! Come with me to the staff room. We can talk about what's next."

With fingers linked, Victor led her to the small room, prattling on about her performance, not noticing how quiet she'd become. Kristy leaned back against the wall after entering, while Victor kicked off the shoes and wiggled his toes on the low carpeting. "I wish I'd asked Ally to record us." He placed the shoes in his locker before sliding out of the jacket. "I'd like Marta to see what you've accomplished. She's quite impressed with you already."

Kristy said nothing.

Victor hung the jacket up, then glanced at the bench where he'd left his shirt. It wasn't there. Confused, he gazed around the area before shrugging. "Toss the skirt here, love. I'll hang it up."

"Come get it."

Surprised at her tone, he looked at the girl who lounged against the wall, eyeing him boldly. Kristy held his missing shirt in her hand. Victor crossed to her—his steps measured until the tips of his toes nearly brushed hers. He noted she hadn't removed the skirt. "So, can I have it?"

Kristy wrapped the shirt around both hands and then looped it around his neck. "Certainly."

Then pulled his mouth down to hers.

After a brief pause, his lips came alive. Victor reveled in the moment, amazed at how she overtook him with a single kiss. The smell of vanilla invaded his nostrils as his body tingled. His arms circled her and gathered Kristy closer. His lips claimed hers, again and again, hungry and insatiable.

Victor found the taste of her exquisite.

Greedy hands traveled up the smoothness of his back and down his chest, crossing pecs and delts, causing him to tingle with desire. Victor never imagined anything this intimate happening between them. He'd dreamed of it, but the reality surpassed anything he'd envisioned. His mouth left hers to trail across the petal softness of her cheek, planting kisses on the nerve that ran behind her ear and down the slender column of her neck. The girl shivered as he reclaimed the sweetness of her lips as his reward.

Kristy gave a throaty laugh as his hands slipped under her shirt, wandering up the soft skin of her torso, his fingers itching to touch the delights that awaited him at the end of the journey. Radiating heat, Victor realized he'd never felt this alive! His body reacted to the softness pressed against him and his... his...

Victor froze.

He pushed himself away from her, staring at the genie's lips, swollen from his kisses, her eyes half-closed with desire.

"Vic?" Kristy's voice, low and sultry, teased him. She held out her hands, inviting him to continue.

But Victor shook his head. "I... I need to go. I...I forgot to feed... my fish."

Kristy stared at him, confused. "Huh? What fish?"

Victor swooped down to pick up his shirt before backing away. "So sorry, love, but, uh... they're hungry." He shoved the garment over his head and grabbed his keys and wallet before running out the door, leaving Kristy alone in the little room.

In his haste to leave, he'd left behind his shoes and pullover.

Kristy removed the red skirt, found the hanger, and hung the borrowed article in the closet. Her breath came in short bursts as she held back tears. The genie had never offered herself to anyone, preferring freedom to remaining in the genie realm under her father's authoritarian rule.

She'd never wanted anyone—until he came along. But Kristy understood Victor's reaction loud and clear.

Rejection.

"W-w-why would the great One Magi waste time with a h-h-half breed?" Kristy plopped down on the bench, cursing her fae side. The tears escaped despite her best efforts. "H-h-he could have anyone... like a girl who hadn't betrayed him."

Kristy picked up his shoes and pullover. He'd need them for school tomorrow. She'd return them and be sure to keep their relationship on a professional level in the future. Victor Grant would never snub her again. Wiping away the last of the tears, Kristy threw back her shoulders and held her head high. Time to find Tammy and leave the hopeless dream in the past where it belonged.

Kristy marched to the door, pausing as she gazed back at the bolero jacket he'd worn.

She shut off the lights and closed the door. "Damn it, Victor. Why'd you have to be so perfect?"

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