Mr. Hanz was a legend in the world of formal dance, a name whispered among the elite when it came to choreography.
The rich and powerful sought him out, offering exorbitant sums just to have him choreograph their performances. His studio was nestled in the heart of New York, a sleek, modern facility that stood as a testament to his success.
When we arrived, the lobby was empty, its polished surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of elegant lights. It wasn't surprising — the place was exclusive. You didn't just walk into Mr. Hanz's studio; every visit required an appointment, scheduled down to the minute.
"I'm sorry for the last-minute notice, Candy," Lina said to the receptionist with her usual grace.
Candy, a woman whose poise matched the elegance of the studio, flashed a professional smile. "For you, Miss Lina, Mr. Hanz cut his trip short. He flew back from a fashion show in Paris as soon as he heard you'd be arriving."
Lina chuckled softly, shaking her head. "He really shouldn't have gone through all that trouble. We would've been fine practicing with his assistants."
Candy's smile never wavered. "Not for you, Miss Lina. Only Mr. Hanz will oversee your sessions."
"Thank you," Lina said, her voice kind but firm. "We're in a bit of a rush, so if you don't mind, we'll head straight in."
"Of course. Right this way."
As they exchanged pleasantries, I was lost in thought, remembering the last time I was here. Back then, Mr. Hanz hadn't even bothered to show up. Not once. I had practiced my heart out, desperate to impress, but to him, I was just another face in the crowd.
It didn't matter now, though. I wasn't invested in this world anymore. All I wanted was to get through these next few months and disappear — vanish into a simple life far from the suffocating family drama in here.
Hanz's wide eyes grew even wider in exaggerated disbelief. "Nonsense! For your dance? I wouldn't miss it for the world."
But Lina's smile wavered as she took a small step back, gesturing toward me. "Actually, it's not for me. It's for Eve's eighteenth birthday. You know she and my brother are supposed to share the last dance at the party, right?"
Hanz's forced smile barely reached his eyes as he spared me a quick glance, his attention swiftly returning to Lina. "Ah, of course. But where is young Master Cole?"
"He couldn't make it," Lina said, glancing away. "I was hoping, if it's alright with you, that maybe I could take his place for now?"
Hanz's lips pursed as he tapped his chin, pondering. "Hmm, a man's build and dance style is quite different, my dear . . ." His eyes suddenly lit up as they landed on Dylan, standing stoically nearby. "Ah, I have it! Why not have him practice with you instead?"
Lina's face flushed a delicate shade of pink. "M-me?"
It was painfully obvious now — Lina liked Dylan. Her stolen glances, the softening of her smile, and the barely-there blush whenever their eyes met — it all gave her away. As flawless as Lina was, even she couldn't hide her feelings.
But Dylan? He seemed as indifferent as ever, his expression unreadable as he stood there, unmoved by her charm.
I couldn't help but wonder if he felt anything for her at all. How could he not? Lina was the entire package — beauty, grace, intelligence power.
Yet the idea of a mere bodyguard falling for the daughter of a family like the Fays wouldn't sit well with anyone. Maybe it was the reason why he was holding back?
Or must be he wasn't really into her, after all.