Page 10 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

Are you okay?

Her breath hitches in her chest as she looks up from under lush eyelashes to meet my gaze. She gives a tiny nod. “Would you like an autograph?”

It is a professional question. An appropriate question. Still, I am disappointed. I want to know what happened to her, who those men were. I have so many questions at the tip of my tongue that I almost cannot control myself. I realize she would be embarrassed. This is not the time to make a scene.

“Sure,” I say, handing over my program.

She uses a Sharpie to sign her name while I take one more moment to look at her. When she hands me the program, I am reminded that there are more people behind me who wish to speak with her.

“Thank you. Congratulations again.”

I walk away, desperately searching my mind for a way to hang back, to get her attention again. I am not a bold man, though, and my shyness gets the best of me. I walk out into the night, down the street to my car. I drive home to my apartment.

It is not until I look back through the program that I realize she has written her phone number below her signature.

Heart beating wildly, I text the number.

Then I delete it.

It takes me an hour to get the courage to press send.

Vasily:Hello. I am Vasily.

It doesn’t take long for three dots to appear. And then a response.

Gigi:Hello audience member

Vasily:Late night runner.

Gigi:Mmm interesting

Vasily:Are you also a late night runner?

Gigi: On occasion

Vasily:Was it you last week?

Gigi:Yes

Vasily:I saw you. You were being abducted. What happened?

Gigi:A misunderstanding

Vasily:It didn’t seem like a misunderstanding.

Gigi:Trust me you don’t want to get involved and I am fine

Vasily:But

Gigi:What is your favorite color

Vasily:Blue. You?

Gigi:Green are you old

Vasily: LOL

Gigi: So yes