The Dance We Remember (Love and Other Dreams #4)

Chapter 10

Maxime

We did it. Moments ago, the couple with number ninety-two left the ballroom. As in the past few days, the hours flew by relentlessly. Behind the double glass windows of the old academy building, daylight won't linger for much longer.

Cyrille Perret claps his hands. "The final meeting will take place in the Kong room." He stands, buttoning his jacket. Then he addresses Madame Durand. "Don't worry; we'll have privacy. I've made sure of that."

The academy headmistress is not the only one raising her eyebrows at his words. I wonder how much it cost to rent the entire venue on Rue du Pont Neuf for one evening. One must have money...

"An excellent choice. Very tasteful," Madame Durand responds with a nod of approval. It's no secret why she fawns over him. Without his money, she'd be jobless, and the academy would be just an insignificant school for competitive and show dancers. Keeping Cyrille in good spirits is her main occupation, and I don't envy her for it.

Silently, I take the folder with the evaluation forms and leave my seat. We walk the three blocks through the 1st Arrondissement to the Japanese fusion restaurant on the top floor of a traditional townhouse. The evening air is still too warm to refresh me, yet I appreciate the short walk and let my gaze wander over the decorations on the facades of the buildings.

Juli catches up to me. The clacking of her high heels is unmistakable, even amid the city's noise. "That was quite a performance you gave on the dance floor," she says with a giggle.

Oh no, not her too.

I avoid looking at her. The mere mention of the dance makes that tingling sensation resurface within me. "You didn't believe me, so I had to show you," I reply, trying to sound cool. It's amazing how confident I seem.

"And how you showed us..." She shoots me a mischievous sideways glance while walking. "It was quite... um... hot. At one point, I thought you two were about to set the ballroom on fire."

Instead of responding, I laugh amusedly as if she made a really good joke. I even pretend I can't stop while I'm desperately searching for a suitable reaction.

"I'm just a pro," I finally say even though I hate sounding so conceited. But it's the best explanation for what Juli, and probably the others, witnessed today.

We reach the restaurant building, step inside, and head for the elevator.

While we wait, Juli leans in toward me. "You've convinced me, though. I will vote in favor of this Aurora," she whispers.

My heart skips a beat. That was precisely my goal, but now I'm not sure I really want that.

Should Aurora be accepted? Is it a good idea for her to join my dance classes? To conceal the emotional turmoil inside me from Juli, I nod gratefully in response.

During the ride up, nobody says a word. I use the time to focus.

As we enter the restaurant with a vast glass dome as its only roof, I gasp for breath. I've never been here before, only heard about the fantastic view. But what I see now is even better than I imagined.

The panoramic view over the rooftops of Paris, the Pont Neuf, and the Seine impresses with its urban beauty. The sky is dotted with cotton candy pink clouds, with delicate shades of orange shining through their undersides.

Cyrille gestures with a grand sweep of his hand for us to take our seats at the table in the center of the dome. The silverware gleams just like the glasses. At the head of the table stands a giant champagne cooler with five bottles, each adorned with golden stoppers protruding from the ice bath.

"Welcome to the final meeting," says our benefactor, then summons the server boastfully.

He explains the ten-course menu that awaits us today and recommends suitable wines. I have no idea what he's talking about, so I do the same as the others.

Chin slightly lifted. Nodding with approval. Using words like excellent and spectacular .

As we are alone again, Madame Durand looks around with a significant look. "We have a lot to do, so I suggest we start right away."

Thanks to the three rounds of evaluation for the slow waltz, quickstep, and rumba in the past days, we are well-practiced and progress quickly. Fortunately, Cyrille refrains from expressing his opinion. Even though he has seen all the couples dance today, he cannot provide a professional evaluation. Despite his usual arrogance, he seems to understand that he shouldn't interfere.

With each additional couple we assess, my nerves intensify. Soon, the topic of discussion will be Aurora. Will I receive a reprimand for dancing with her?

As David gives his scores for couple number twenty-two, the wine is served. By the time we reach couple number thirty, I'm already pouring myself a second glass.

What if Aurora doesn't make it?

And what if she does?

I no longer know what I would prefer. No matter how I twist and turn it, this can only end well one way. By pretending I have no feelings for this woman. I would have to ignore every heartbeat and every glance. As long as she is merely a student like any other. But while dancing, we would touch each other. Be close to one another.

I don't know what would happen if it were only half as intense as today. However, I know one thing: nothing must happen.

"Forty-three." Madame Durand's voice interrupts my daydreams. "You may start, David."

David takes out his pen and flips a page in his notes. "Ah," he says as if suddenly realizing who couple number forty-three is. His gaze flickers to me. "Neither of them convinced me."

Juli wrinkles her nose but remains silent.

Madame Durand pouts her lower lip forward. She must have expected a different evaluation. "Reasoning?" she inquires.

"The little dance performance with Maxime was good, but it shouldn't be part of the evaluation. If we disregard that, there's no reason to accept them," David responds. He keeps looking at me intently. Is he trying to signal that he's doing me a favor here? Or is he gazing at me so insistently to draw conclusions from my reaction?

But he won't get any reaction because there's nothing to react to.

I don't care about Aurora , I pray to myself.

"Yes, Maxime, what is your opinion on this matter?" the boss wants to know next. "After all, you were... closer... so to speak," she inquires.

From her tone, I can tell that she disapproves of my behavior. Although she refrains from expressing it openly in this gathering, I sense that she might call me for a one-on-one conversation in her office tomorrow.

"Today, if I may, Monsieur Rousseau," she reprimands me.

I have no idea what to say. But one thing is clear to me: I cannot back down from my stance now. I have advocated for Aurora for days.

I have praised her talent on multiple occasions. If I were to vote against her now, I would not only be a jerk who destroys her career for my self-preservation but my colleagues would also wonder why I would do that.

I adjust the cutlery in front of me. "I am still convinced of Aurora Olivetta's dance abilities," I state.

David inhales sharply. "Today's mambo only proved that you are a good dancer. Even a beginner would look good next to you," he retorts.

His eyes narrow, and I realize how serious he is. Whether he wants to protect me or has other reasons, he won't allow Aurora to attend the academy.

"Come on! A dance couple is only as good as its weakest member. Everyone knows that," Juli interjects indignantly. "Just because the man is in charge of leading does not mean the woman doesn't contribute."

Madame Durand raises her hands in a calming gesture. "Please, let's stay objective."

Juli presses her lips together, David clenches his fists relentlessly, and I don't know where to look. Awkwardly, I reach for my wineglass and down it in one go, earning another stern look from the boss.

Afterward, she clears her throat. "So Juli and Maxime are in favor of admission. David is against it."

I can't help but hold my breath and discreetly slide my hands under the table, trying to hide how little control I have over my fingers.

"My vote is also against the couple," she says in a sharp tone, marking crosses next to their names on her list.

That settles it. In case of a tie, the academy management makes the final decision. And that's what she just did.

I try to breathe. It's better this way. If Aurora started here, she would distract me too much.

At best.

At worst, our attraction would have driven me insane. I should be glad. The danger is averted.

"Very well," David comments with delight. "Now, let's move on to couple number forty-four."

Juli immediately focuses her attention on Madame Durand, who smiles contentedly.

Out of nowhere, Cyrille's flat hand slams vigorously on the table. The dishes clatter loudly, and the knives tinkle brightly. "Not so fast, ladies and gentlemen."

As if preparing for a speech, he stands up from his chair and rolls his shoulders back. The server, approaching our table with the pie, immediately changes course and retreats to the kitchen.

Cyrille looks around accusingly. "It seems I must remind you what this is all about." He slips a finger under his tie knot to loosen it. "Nothing less than the reputation of the Académie de Nouvelle Danse Paris."

Madame Durand straightens up. "Of course..."

"Every year, I invest a small fortune in this academy. In return, I expect fresh talents who will conquer the stages of the world," he continues without letting the boss finish her sentence.

I nod. His goals are well-known to all of us. He doesn't care about the dancers themselves; he only cares about his academy being recognized as the source of the greatest stars for competitions, shows, and television.

He wants to build a legacy here.

"Now, today, we have discovered such a talent. Even I, as a layman, recognized that the young girl is a rough diamond," he says, his cheeks turning a heated red. Then he turns to me. "I don't care at all why you stormed the dance floor today, Monsieur Rousseau. I couldn't care less about your jealous colleagues—and they are obviously jealous." With his index finger, he points first at David, then at Madame Durand, who hurriedly smoothes the tablecloth.

I can tell she wants to defend herself, but she doesn't. Normally, she alone decides the course of action with an assertiveness that brooks no opposition. Now, she seems like a schoolgirl who has done something wrong and fears punishment.

Her behavior further fuels Cyrille's intensity. "The girl will be accepted."

Oh. My. God.

David gasps for breath. Juli enthusiastically nods to our sponsor. Madame Durand's mouth corners twitch uncontrollably.

And me?

I feel like I'm sitting in a scene where I don't belong. As if I were an extra who sees what's happening but isn't part of it myself.

Seconds pass, and no one says anything. Only when Cyrille sits down again does the tension subside.

"What are you waiting for?" he snaps at the boss. "Carry on."

She hastily lowers her gaze to her folder. "Um..." Her pen hovers over the documents. "Couple number forty-four." She straightens up and raises her chin boldly. "Juli, you begin."