

Dancing With Danger
Amelie Bergen · Ongoing · 94.3k Words
Introduction
Jack brushed his lips over the soft skin of my neck. “Me too. You have no idea.”
I let myself go in that moment, needing to just feel as Jack and I moved against one another as one. My heart was slamming against my ribcage as I felt him press against me, his knee gently parting my thighs.
Ballet dancer Mia rushes home to tell her roommate and best friend, Abbie, only to find the girl facedown in a pool of blood.
Mia is thrust into a world of mystery and organized crime as she seeks justice for her late best friend. Things become even more complicated when she develops intense feelings for Jack Drake, the insanely hot detective assigned to the murder case.
As the two work together to solve this mystery, they must work even harder to quell the undeniable desire between them.
Neither is successful.
Dancing with Danger is created by Amelie Bergen, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.
Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Facedown
Mia POV
Heart still slamming repeatedly into my ribcage, I blew out a breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I leaned against the cream-colored wall of the dance studio hallway, trying to appear casual, but really needing the support as my head spun.
That had to be the best audition I had ever had, and it was for the lead role in Swan Lake of all the possible shows! It was hard to beat down the smugness that was threatening to erupt from within me as I replayed the last few hours in my mind.
I had known to expect a rigorous last day of auditions but I didn’t expect to nail it like I had. The roles would likely be announced within a day or two. The thought made my heart start to do double time once again.
This was the first time I felt overwhelmingly confident after an audition. I had little doubt that I would secure my dream role, the coveted leading part of Odette.
The competition was fierce, but I was prepared to be even more fierce as I strode into the studio earlier that morning with my head held high. I breezed through the warm-up routine, feeling as if I were floating with the familiar and grounding sensation of polished wood beneath my slippers.
It wasn’t until the audition reached its climax with the iconic “White Swan” solo that I began to feel the other eyes watching me in the vast, mirrored room. I felt the eyes of my fellow dancers, reflected in the shining wall opposite us, but I also felt the intense gaze of the panel of ballet masters, carefully judging each move we made.
As the gentle music washed over me, It was easy to forget the fact that they were heavily scrutinizing every graceful leap and step, watching for the tiniest misstep or lack of technique that might take place.
As my fellow dancers and I were thanked and dismissed, I couldn’t help the tiny smile that toyed at the corner of my lips. I had no doubt that I had performed the routine perfectly.
I waited for a couple of girls to disappear around the corner of the hallway before I let the smile spread out across my face. I made my way to the dressing room to gather my things, relieved to find the large room empty.
Everyone else must have already been there and left while I was trying to compose myself in the hallway. As I approached the line of white lockers to grab my stuff, the initial high from the near-flawless audition waned, making way for something else entirely.
My best friend hadn’t made it there.
It wasn’t unheard of for Abigail to oversleep, or to be late. When we were at Julliard together, I had to literally pull her out of bed at times to make sure she made it to classes and other events on time.
She took auditions seriously though. She was always on time for them, although admittedly, she cut it way too close a number of times. I grinned slightly as I pictured the way she would burst through the dressing room doors, just minutes before we were scheduled to meet with the judges, out of breath with wavy hair flying in every direction.
But this was the first time she hadn’t made it at all.
Concern twisted my stomach. I roughly pulled the pins from the bun on top of my head, letting my flaming red hair tumble down my back.
I threw the metal white door of my locker open, fishing around for my phone. I frowned at the screen when I saw that I had no missed calls or texts. This wasn’t like Abbie at all.
I pressed the phone to my ear, biting my lower lip nervously as it continued to ring before going to voicemail.
“Abbie,” I said into the phone. I chuckled lightly. “You better have a damn good excuse this time. I’m on my way home, and you’re going to make this up to me when I get there!”
“I doubt your little friend has a good excuse.”
I nearly dropped my phone as I whirled around to face the nasty voice. I narrowed my eyes at Natalia.
“Fellow dancer” would be too kind a term to describe that witch. She decided on day one that she hated Abbie and me, throwing us dirty looks and trying to make us look bad in front of our dance instructors.
She learned quickly that Abbie and I were too skilled to fall for her little tricks as she tried to trip us during practices.
I openly glared at her, frustrated that I had to tilt my head up to do so as she sneered down at me. She might be a witch, but she was a beautiful one.
I hated to admit it, but her tall, lean figure and smooth auburn-colored hair spoke for themselves. She was one of those girls that never had a hair out of place and made sure to act like it.
My hands twitched, the sudden urge to slap her across her pretty face overwhelming, but I forced a passive expression. “Abbie wouldn’t have missed today if she didn’t have a good reason.”
Natalia just rolled her eyes, one hand resting on her hip, her black leotard accentuating her limber body. “I’d hardly call nursing a hangover a good reason.”
I gritted my teeth, taking a deep breath to calm myself. Natalia had run into us on an unfortunate night months before. Abbie had just been through a nasty breakup and drank herself silly at a nearby dive bar in Manhattan. She had been a mess, make-up running down her face, and barely able to walk.
I’d never forget the shock followed by the pure delight when Natalia caught us leaving the bar, with Abbie leaning heavily against me. Since then, she’d been spreading rumors that Abbie was an alcoholic, despite the fact that my friend hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since that night.
It took every ounce of self-control I could muster to swallow my pride and smile pleasantly at Natalia.
“Look, I really don’t have time for this. Great job out there. May the best dancer win, and all that jazz.” I quickly grabbed my baby pink duffle bag and attempted to slip past her.
Unfortunately, I noticed her calculating look a second too late before she seemed to trip over nothing and stomped on my foot. Hard. I yelped and dropped all my things, but managed to stay upright.
Several obscenities flew through my mind at that moment, but I just glared silently at her, picked up my bag, and fled from the room. I didn’t have time to deal with her.
I couldn’t help but slam the dressing room door behind me. I winced and wiggled the toes of the foot she had stepped on and was relieved that nothing was broken.
Anger welled up inside me as I hurried out the doors of the studio and immediately hailed a taxi to take me home. It was no secret that it would have been devastating to have a foot injury as a ballet dancer. Natalia was taking this rivalry between us too far.
As I buckled myself into the backseat of the smelly cab, I replayed the audition in my head once again, lingering on the moments when I felt the most confident and graceful. It had gone so well, and I wasn’t going to let Natalia ruin it for me.
I called Abbie again, planning to complain to her about the bitch, but this time, her phone went straight to voicemail. Unease filled me as I stuffed my phone in my bag. I reasoned that she must have misplaced her phone, which was more common than I thought was humanly possible for a girl in her mid-twenties.
I tried to calm the mother hen that was rising in me. Abbie and I had been roommates for just over three years now, and it was more than enough time for me to learn how clumsy and accident-prone the girl was.
She was the type of girl that would walk into poles and trip over ladybugs. Miraculously, when she danced, she was as graceful and sure-footed as a dancer with triple her experience.
I practically flew out of the cab once it stopped in front of our shabby apartment complex. I hurried through the doors leading into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time until I felt my phone vibrate.
Finally! I frowned when it wasn’t Abbie’s name that appeared on my screen, but my heart started to beat wildly when my brain registered who it was.
“Hello, this is Mia.” My voice squeaked and I swallowed thickly.
I could feel the world around me disappearing as I struggled to make sense of the magic words that the producer of our dance company was saying. My shocked brain barely processed the most important ones: Congratulations … impressed with your performance … lead role … Odette … excited to work with you.
My lips were barely moving as I struggled to respond. “I really got the part?”
“Yes! Congratulations again, my dear. We’ll be in touch soon with the next steps.”
I finally snapped out of my shock long enough to be able to thank the producer profusely before ending the call. I stood there dumbly for several moments, just staring down at my phone.
My breaths were coming out as pants as what had just happened sunk in. I let out an excited shriek that echoed through the dank stairwell before I resumed my thunderous ascent up to the fifteenth floor of the building.
I was completely out of breath when I finally made it to our floor. With shaking hands, I fumbled to grab my keys to our apartment, excited to tell Abbie that I got the part. If it had been anyone else in her position, I’d be nervous to tell her, worried she’d be jealous, but Abbie had a heart of gold and I knew she’d be nothing but happy for me.
I froze in confusion as I approached our door. It was ajar. Frowning, I nudged it open with my foot. I squinted into the pitch darkness of our living room, my confusion multiplying.
“Abbie!” I called out, feeling the wall behind me so I could flip the lights on. “Why the hell is it so dark in here–”
I somehow swallowed the scream in my throat.
Blood. Everywhere. On our plush blue sofa, the coffee table we had picked out together, and the framed pictures of us on the opposite wall. Most of it was on our polished wood floor, a huge pool of it.
And my best friend, Abigail, was facedown in the middle of it.
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