One Last Dance by Angela Stephens

please?”
    “No,” Darren snapped. “You’re
lucky you’re talking to her at all.”
    “Sophie,” Henry pleaded. But she
shook her head. Be alone with him? No way. She seethed at the thought.
    “You can say whatever you need to
say in front of Darren.”
    “That money was just for the
dance. I swear. Nothing else.”
    She bristled. “Just the dance?
There was five thousand in that envelope, at least. What am I supposed
to think?”
    “That I’m incredibly grateful you
agreed to dance with me? That I enjoyed that short dance more than I’ve enjoyed
anything in a long time? I don’t know. Anything but that I was trying to
pay you for what happened after.”
    She didn’t believe him. Not
entirely. She’d seen the distant look in his eyes as he’d practically shoved
her out of the elevator and stuffed that envelope into her hand. He’d wanted
her to go away as quickly as possible. He might not have meant to insult her,
but he meant to brush her off.
    Henry opened his mouth to speak
again, but she raised her hand, palm out, to keep him from going on. “Fine,
let’s just say that I believe you.” She waved an agitated hand toward the front
of the building.
    “I’m dying to hear this,”
Darren interjected, voice cutting. He hadn’t removed his arm from around
Sophie’s shoulder, and he was staring at Henry like he thought he could burn
holes through him.
    Tugging a chair closer, Henry sat
heavily and rubbed a hand against his face. “When you’re young and rich the
tabloids have an interest. Sometimes they hang around and catch something
juicy. You just got caught in the middle of that. I’m so sorry Sophie.”
    “So that’s it? I’m just
collateral damage? My business can’t come back from this.”
    Henry leaned forward, elbows on
his knees. “Your business isn’t ruined—”
    “Do you think parents are going
to want a whore teaching their children? And what about my professional
students? Think they’ll stick around and put ‘trained by a famous prostitute’
on their CVs? I’m done, Henry. This,” she stabbed a finger toward the front of
the studio, “ ends me.”
    He winced as if she’d struck him
again. “It doesn’t have to. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
    Sophie jerked out of Darren’s
grip and flung her hands in the air. “How does all of New York believing I’m an
escort not ruin my business, Henry? I’m all ears.”
    She saw Henry’s shoulders tighten
defensively at her words, but to his credit he didn’t try and placate her. He
gave her a minute to breathe before he replied. “You show them you’re not.”
    Darren crossed his arms, cocking
his head. Clearly, Henry had piqued his interest, but Sophie wasn’t biting.
“It’s too late for that, the story is out. No matter what I do or say they’ll
just think I’m lying to cover up my sordid activities.”
    “The story is that I’m paying to
have sex with you. It’ll sell papers, and the people who want to make it a
problem for me will make sure the story sticks. But you’re right, if we try and
protest they’ll just think we’re trying to cover it up.”
    Sophie tapped her foot
impatiently. “So what’re you suggesting?”
    “We admit it.”
    Her jaw fell open. “How does that
help me at all?”
    He held up his hands defensively.
“Hold on, let me finish.” Sophie jerked a short nod. “We admit part of
it. Pretend we’re a couple. Be seen in public together. It takes the starch out
of the story. A couple having a spat is no news at all.”
    “No.” She didn’t even have to
think about it. It was ludicrous, she never wanted to see Henry again let alone
play house with him. She would have to get herself out of this mess on her own,
he was only going to make things worse. “No,” she said again.
    “Sophie, this will save your
business. We have to diffuse this situation. You need—”
    The cauldron of anger in her
belly had been bubbling ever since he’d arrived, but the sheer arrogance