It started with a bra.

Just one bra. Not even a super expensive one, because even after the boob job, Natasha was still only a C-cup.

“You should buy it,” Lori said, peeking past the curtain into Natasha’s dressing room. “It’s pretty.”

Natasha turned in the mirror, checking herself out from multiple angles. The lacy black demi-cup was pretty, and her cleavage looked phenomenal. Just wearing it made her feel better about life.

And, okay, she wondered what Dimitri would think of it, too. Her plan to avoid him was a success, and she hadn’t seen him in three days. What she hadn’t counted on was her own desire for him. She missed his dark scowl and flashing grin, the woodsy, citrusy scent of his cologne, even his corny jokes. But especially his touch. Damn him.

She’d almost given in. But he’d reminded her why she needed to keep her distance, and it wasn’t just because her job was now at stake.

Although that was a big fucking reason to keep her panties on, and her ass in her own bed.

Not her own bed. It wasn’t hers. Nik’s bed. Shit, that sounded worse. The guest bed. She was a guest. Sort of.

Not quite guest. Not quite roommate. Definitely not girlfriend.

“I would buy it, if I had boobs,” Lori added. She glanced down at her chest. “It’s okay, though. It’s easier to breakdance without them. And besides, our costume designers are experts at padding.”

“That’s why I got small implants.” Natasha adjusted the straps on the black bra, looking for a reason to leave it behind. Nope, the damn thing fit perfectly.

Lori snickered. “For breakdancing?”

“No, that’s all you, girl.” Natasha pulled on the tank top provided by the store to see how the bra looked under fabric. Still looked fantastic. “I got them for me, because I wanted them, and because I’m never going back to ballet.”

“Why not?”

Natasha shrugged and took the shirt off. “I’m twenty-seven already. That’s like sixty-seven in ballerina years, and anyway, I prefer ballroom dancing as a career. And if I got implants any bigger than these—” she poked her chest, “—they wouldn’t look right on my body.”

“Makes sense.” Lori ducked out while Natasha changed back into the bra and shirt she’d worn into the store. “Are you going to buy it?”

Natasha stepped out of the fitting room, holding the bra in her hand. It really was pretty . . . “I’m thinking about it.”

“It looked really good on you.” Lori waved the neon green bralette she held. “You can think about it while I wait to pay.”

Shopping with Lori was a dangerous pastime. Lori was an instigator, and Natasha didn’t need much encouragement when it came to spending money. And since she’d lost so much in the great apartment disaster, and one of her direct deposit checks had come in, it only made sense to pick up an item or two . . .

She bought the bra.

By the time they left The Grove, Natasha was weighed down with shopping bags from five different stores, and her checking account was right back where it had started. But seeing the bags filling the trunk of her car gave her a thrill. The royal blue romper looked amazing on her, and the low-heeled ankle booties fit like a dream on her poor, battered dancer’s feet.

She said goodbye to Lori in the parking lot and drove the short distance to The Dance Off’s offices. The whole way, she ran through the reasons why her purchases had been a good idea.

She’d been working hard. She deserved nice things.

She was a television celebrity in Los Angeles. She got recognized, and had an image to uphold.

After losing so many items in the ceiling leak, she needed to replenish her wardrobe.

They were the reasons she always gave herself when she splurged. She deserved, she needed, she wanted. All to shut up the voice that whispered, No necesitas eso. Vas a botar tú dinero. People like you don’t get to have things like that. You don’t have the money.

That stupid voice followed her everywhere and sounded just like her mother.

Then Kevin called. Kevin always texted, so she picked up, worried that something bad had happened. “Kev? Is everything okay?”

“Hey, Natasha,” Kevin said. “I’m cool, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Donna’s been asking around about you and Dimitri. Are you still seeing that guy?”

Crap. “I filmed some promo with him, and you know how it goes. Harmless flirting. Donna’s just digging for dirt.”

“That’s what I figured, but I still wanted to let you know.”

“I appreciate it, Kev. Talk to you later.”

“Oh, are we still on for dinner with Lori tonight?”

Damn it. Why did she keep making plans to spend money? “Sorry, I have to back out. A work gig came up.”

“Aww, we’ll miss you. Next time?”

“Sure.” They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Natasha headed straight back into The Grove and returned everything that wasn’t final sale.

She kept the bra.

She had to stop digging herself deeper into the hole. It was time to make smart financial choices. The sooner she had the money, the sooner she could get the hell out of Dimitri’s house.

No one could know she was living there. That meant saving her coins, and making dinner at home. She prayed Dimitri would be caught up at the restaurant.