There was every possibility this would backfire, but after days of working nonstop to make this meeting happen, there was no more room for doubt.

Dimitri sat at the desk, keeping his hands flat on the surface so as not to chew on his nails. In truth, he didn’t have energy for doubt. He was wiped the fuck out.

Whatever was going to happen, would happen. He was putting all his cards on the table, and if he lost . . .

Well, then, damn it, he would try again. He wasn’t giving up.

The worst-case scenarios had already happened. His first show had been a flop. His second attempt had been turned down over something as stupid as his level of fame.

And the woman he loved hadn’t believed in his love. Again.

He’d survived all of it, and he’d survive whatever came next.

“Breathe.”

To Dimitri’s right, Alex was the very picture of calm. He was there to lend legitimacy to this meeting, so Natasha would know it was a serious offer and not some misguided ploy to get her back. The last thing Dimitri wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.

“I am breathing,” he grumbled.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Easy for you to say. You put a ring on it within two months of meeting Marina.”

Alex’s lips quirked. “I always was smarter than you.”

Dimitri couldn’t argue. Then the doorknob turned, and he tried not to throw up on the desk. When Natasha stepped into the room, his heart leaped into his throat, and for a long moment, they just stared at each other.

God damn, she was gorgeous. She looked like her old self, but there was something different about her. A confident tilt to her chin, a challenge in her eyes.

But also, confusion. Brows drawn, she glanced at Alex, then looked over her shoulder, into the hallway. Dimitri found his voice and got up from behind the desk.

“This is the right room,” he said, and she turned back to face him. “Please, come in. Have a seat.”

“Macho, what is this?” She sounded confused, but she sat in the chair he offered, and she called him Macho. That was a good sign. “I thought I was here for a meeting about a . . .” Understanding dawned on her face, in those expressive eyes, and her mouth twisted in a frown. “Did you set this up to get me to come talk to you?”

“No.” He went back to his chair, but couldn’t bring himself to sit. Too much nervous energy. Instead, he perched on the edge of the desk and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I mean, yes, I wanted to talk to you, but I swear, it’s about choreography. Also about choreography.”

Damn, he was screwing this up. She looked puzzled and slightly disappointed.

Alex saved him by jumping straight into the pitch. “Hello, Ms. Díaz. My apologies for surprising you this way. We were able to secure funding for Dom Navsegda, and we were hoping you’d be interested in accepting the role of choreographer.”

Natasha listened, then stared at Dimitri with a poker face that could rival Alex’s. “Why?”

Dimitri answered quickly, speaking from the heart, before Alex could give a smooth reply. “Because you’re the best choreographer I know.” He shrugged. “You’re better than I am, and I don’t say that lightly. And you’re better than Kevin, even though people seem to think the sun shines out of that guy’s ass.”

Alex sighed, but Natasha’s lips quirked. “That’s true, people do think that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the best, and I want the best, and I also want to give you the chance to show the world what you can do with real dancers.”

“How do you know what I can do?”

“We watched your YouTube videos,” Alex said. “They served as an effective example of your skills, and we think you’ll be a good fit for this project. Besides,” he jerked a thumb in Dimitri’s direction, “you already know how to put up with this guy.”

With a glance at Dimitri, Alex got to his feet. “I’m starting to feel like a third wheel, but I want you to know we’re very serious about this offer. I think you’re the best person for the job. Please consider the offer.” He shook Natasha’s hand, shot Dimitri a warning glance, and exited the room. The door shut with a click.

Natasha crossed her arms. “Okay, Dimitri. Real talk. What is all this about?”

He shook his head, spread his hands, and struggled to find the words. “You’re amazing, Tasha. I don’t know how else to say it. And you understand this show, this story, in a way I don’t trust other people to get it.”

“It’s a good story,” she murmured.

“Think about it,” he said. “You don’t have to decide now. I’ll have Alex send all the other details to your agent. But please think about it. And I hope you take it. You don’t have to take me, but please take the job. You’re perfect for it, and I think it’s perfect for you.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh shit. I meant to lead with this part. I quit The Dance Off.”

She stared at him for so long, he surreptitiously wiped a hand over his face to make sure there wasn’t something stuck to his beard.

“You quit?” she finally said.

“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “I thought I needed to be there, to take advantage of the fame so my own show would be successful. But if that’s what I’m relying on, I either don’t have much faith in my show, or it’s not as good as I think it is.”

When she didn’t say anything, he scratched the back of his neck. “Look, I’m too tired to play this cool. I want you. In my home, in my bed, in my life. It took me way too long to say that. I get it. I should have told you the day we met. But I was an idiot. So, I’m saying it now. I love you, Tasha. I told you, I’m not walking away from you again. I want us to be together. You and me. Building something real and solid together. As dancers, if you want. As a couple, if you want that, too.” He threw up his hands. “Damn it. I’m making a mess of this. I’m sorry I’m such an awkward asshole.”

Her steady gaze unnerved him. “Tell me exactly what you mean to say.”

He fidgeted, then got up to pace. “You.” He gestured at her with both hands. “Me.” He pressed his palms to his chest. “As, like, a couple.”

She stood and approached him, running her hands up his stomach and up over his shoulders to lace together behind his neck. In those shoes, they were the same height. “Macho, are you saying you want commitment?”

He grabbed her hips. “Yes, damn it, that’s what I want. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I’m sorry I let you think otherwise because I was too scared to own up to it.” He pressed his forehead to hers, looked her in the eye. “Love is a risk. So is creativity. Both are worth it. I want you with me every step of the way, for both. I believe in you, Tasha, and I know you can take care of yourself, but I can’t help wanting to take care of you. I love you, and that’s what I do for people I love.”

“You have to let me take care of you, too,” she whispered, a small smile playing on her soft lips.

“Of course, Kroshka. That’s all I want. For us to take care of each other.”

Her smile widened, letting him know it was okay, so he kissed her.

Falling into her mouth, surrounded by the sweetness of figs and ginger, was like coming home. She was soft, and hot, and her tongue went after his in a way that made him groan. He slid his hands down to cup her ass, pulling her flush against him and rocking his hips side to side to press his hardening cock against her.

She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around him and sliding one leg up, like she’d climb him if she could.

Tempting as it was to take her here on the rented desk, it probably wasn’t the most professional move.

“Come home with me,” he whispered against her neck.

“You missed me?”

“Hell yes.” He kissed her again, sinking into the lush heat of her mouth, filling his hands with her strong, lean curves. Then he pulled back. “So, wait, you’re accepting me, but what about the job?”

She laughed and leaned into him. “Yes, Dimitri. I want the job. It sounds fantastic.”

“Okay, I just want to make sure you don’t think I’m just giving it to you because I want you to come home—my home, I mean. As my girlfriend. Fuck, I hate that word. My woman.”

“That’s not much better, but I like it.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to think you’re not successful. I know that’s important to you.”

She touched her lips to his in a long, slow kiss before she spoke again. “I’m quitting The Dance Off, too. Success is however you define it. Can’t live your life trying to please others.”

He nodded. “Good. I agree.” He slipped a hand between her legs and rubbed gently. “But I can spend it trying to please you.”

She moaned and clutched his shirt. “Don’t start shit you can’t finish.”

Dimitri glanced at the desk again. Fuck it.

“Get on the desk,” he said.

Her eyes lit up, and she obeyed, perching her ass on the edge.

He left her side only long enough to lock the door.