Daddy’s Forbidden Fantasy (An Erotic Romance Series)

Chapter 5

Sasha

Oh sh*t, this was Mr. Hamburg? The Fred Hamburg? Every ballet troupe is artistic, sure, but at the same time, it’s a corporation just like any other. There are bills to pay, with employees, human resources, accounting, and publicity, the wheels have to turn for the business to run. And Mr. Hamburg is in charge of it all.

But he’s right for the job. Because once upon a time, Fred Hamburg was a dancer himself. But he got injured and quit ballet, turning to Wall Street instead. And that savvy mind and sharp instincts made a fortune in finance within a couple of years, the man was rolling in it. But the alpha’s first love was always ballet, and eventually he came back to dance, assuming the helm of NYC Academy as CEO.

So yeah, he was technically our boss. Or more accurately, our boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, a guy so high up in the sky that we couldn’t even see him.

But Viola was having none of that. She skipped over and shot the billionaire a flirtatious smile.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Mr. Hamburg, it’s such a pleasure to have you here this morning. Are you going to observe our practice?”

The big man took in that lithe, svelte form with neutral blue eyes.

“Sure am,” he rumbled, voice low and sexy.

“I always check out the new dancers, I’m here to see the girls who just joined.”

Viola giggled, a little crazy-sounding if you asked me.

“Oh that’s me!” she simpered, raising one hand.

“I’m part of the new class! We started about three months ago.”

The dark man nodded, face still impassive.

“We had a couple of girls join,” he rumbled, surveying the studio.

“And I’m here to see the new talent perform.”

My heart began pumping. Oh my god, he was here to watch us especially? Me, Viola, Tracey, and Carrie? Oh my god, oh my god, I had to do well. I absolutely had to make a good impression in front of the boss.

And at that very moment, Miss Lane clapped her hands.

“Girls, girls! Since Mr. Hamburg is here to observe, let’s not keep him waiting alright? Let’s bring our newest dancers out to perform, come on ladies!”

Heart pumping furiously, I stepped towards the center of the studio along with Viola and the others. Oh god, we were going to be dancing in front of everyone, prima ballerinas, senior staff, and most of all, him. This dark man had me so pumped, excited, and trembling inside that I could barely focus. I took my place next to the others, the four girls in a line but my heart beat crazily, almost bursting from my chest.

And then the music began to play. Like all dancers, I can feel sounds in my bones, the music does something to me that’s hard to describe. It lifts me, it soothes me, it brings me to life in a way that’s electric and yet gentle at once. And as the strains of the piano began, I let it take me away.

My knees bent in a soft plié, arms raised over my head in a graceful arch. The girls next to me were doing the same steps, but they melted into a haze as I threw myself into the routine. Slowly, my arms came down and then I burst into a series of pirouettes, each one faster than the last, head whipping around once, twice, then three times, always fixed on the same point across the room.

And as my feet stepped and scissored, a certain person added even more vibrancy to my dance. It was Fred Hamburg. Those penetrating blue eyes traveled over every inch of my body, from my curved toes to the tips of my fingers. They scalded my soul, missing nothing, and made me reach for the heavens, then past the heavens and onto the stars themselves.

Because the alpha’s a true master. Fred knows dance better than most dancers, the billionaire’s never left the art behind even though he wears a suit most days now. His gaze ravished me, urging me higher and higher, our souls touching as I danced, prancing and pirouetting, each gesture, each move meant just for him. It was like there were only two of us in the studio, all else melting into a haze of nothingness, a blur of colors.

And suddenly, it was over. The music stopped with one last chord, and we four girls stood once more in a line, our feet poised in first position, breasts heaving with exertion. Applause burst out.

“Bravo! Bravo!” came the cheer of the crowd.

“Well done!”

I blushed prettily, bowing my head. Oh god, had that really just happened? Had I completely lost my mind, dancing for the eyes of Fred Hamburg? Had I thrown myself into the music, imbuing each movement with my heart and soul, wearing my emotions on my sleeve? Oh god, I'd probably humiliate myself in some unknown way.

Because after the applause died, I snapped out of my dream state, and the world was oddly normal. People stood in small groups chatting and laughing, a couple of dancers warming up at the barre. And as for Mr. Hamburg, it was like he didn’t even know me. When I raised my head to steal a glance, he turned in profile, chatting with one of the prima ballerinas, smiling at something she said. Had it been my imagination? Had the electric shocks running between us been pure illusion, nothing but a teen girl’s dreams?

Unfortunately, probably so because Fred didn’t bother to come over and talk. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge any of the junior troupe who’d just put on a show. He merely chatted with the senior dancers, touching base with Miss Lane before moving to the door, that big body massive and imposing, darkly handsome in a black suit. Oh god, my heart dropped to the floor. I really was a nobody. I thought there was a connection, I thought we’d felt something together, but clearly that was nonsense.

Why would there be something? The voice in my head scolded. You’re an eighteen-year-old newbie. You think he’s never seen one of you before?

Get real. Girls come to NYC every year with hopes of making it big, you’re nothing special, Sasha.

I swallowed heavily, hanging my head. s**t, that was true, it wasn’t like I was a superstar or anything. I just happened to be the star of the day.

Forget that, I was one of the stars of the day, there were four of us dancing in sync, and I’d been part of the group. So yeah, it had all been my imagination.

Swallowing heavily, slowly I changed my shoes, putting on a different pair of slippers as Miss Lane called us to order once more.

“One, two, three, one, two, three,” she chanted, leading the dancers through warm-ups as the piano plunked away. My muscles did all the motions, blood circulating normally, but my head was in the clouds. Because despite my best efforts, I couldn’t focus. Fred Hamburg’s face kept reappearing in front of my eyes, distracting me from what I loved most in the world.

Sasha, came the voice in my head. You gotta stop this. You can’t let a man hold you back from your dreams. You gotta focus, focus, focus, you havea scholarship and it’s not forever.

Right. So I pushed the distractions out of the way and danced, putting my all into the practice session.

But when the break came, I was never so grateful. Retreating into a corner,

I grabbed my water bottle, taking a sip as Miss Lane walked over. Oh god, what was she going to say? That I’d acted really weird during this morning’s performance? That my warm-up moves were off, my body disconnected from my head? Ballet teachers don’t hesitate to chew you out, even if it’s in front of the crowd. Cowering inside, I waited for the hail of words to descend.

But instead, Miss Lane’s expression was curiously neutral, her voice detached.

“Sasha,” she murmured.

“Mr. Hamburg has asked to see you in his office this afternoon.”

I stared at her blankly.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Mr. Hamburg has specifically requested a meeting with you. Three p.m.,” she said blandly.

“I trust you know where his office is? Don’t be late.”

And with that, the woman glided away, leaving me dumbfounded. Why would the billionaire want to see me? Why would he want to talk with a girl who’d just joined his troupe not three months ago? I was nothing, less than a dust mite, just a shadow in the wings.

But then again, maybe he had felt it. Maybe it hadn’t been my imagination, those blue eyes searing my body, touching everywhere, caressing my belly, my n*****s, and that sweet space between my thighs.

Maybe, just maybe, Mr. Hamburg had felt the magic … and suddenly, I couldn’t wait to find out.