Chapter 15 - The Summoning
The subject line of the email read: *Official Reinstatement and Exceptional Invitation: Claire Bennett.*
My hands trembled so violently that Ethan had to take the phone from my grasp to read it aloud.
"'Dear Ms. Bennett,'" Ethan read, his voice steadying the wild thrumming in my chest. "'In light of the criminal indictments handed down tonight against former Chairman Julian Vance by federal authorities, the World Dance Council has officially expunged the 2012 Grand Prix results from the record books. The Board has voted unanimously to restore your active professional master-tier license effective immediately.'"
Ethan paused, his eyes widening slightly as he skimmed down the text.
"What does it say?" I urged, stepping closer, my heart beating in my throat.
"'Furthermore,'" Ethan continued, looking directly at me, "'The Council extends an emergency wildcard entry to the World Champions Cup at Madison Square Garden in three weeks. Given your extraordinary demonstration tonight, you are invited to compete in the Open Exhibition Division. Partner registration is left to your discretion.'"
The apartment seemed to spin. Madison Square Garden. The biggest, most fiercely competitive ballroom stage on the planet. Twelve years ago, that had been my dream before the truck slammed into my driver's side door on Highway 41.
"Three weeks," I breathed, my hand involuntarily touching my right knee through the silk fabric of the emerald dress. "Ethan, that's impossible. I haven't trained competitively in over a decade. My stamina... the choreography... the physical therapy alone would take months. And I don't have a partner. A master division routine requires a world-class professional."
"You had a partner tonight," Ethan countered softly.
I looked at him in shock. "You? Ethan, you danced brilliantly tonight, but that was adrenaline! Madison Square Garden isn't an amateur exhibition at an Ashford gala. It is an arena of sharks. Elite athletes who train ten hours a day. If we step onto that floor unprepared, they will tear us apart."
"Then we train twelve hours a day," Ethan said without blinking. He set the phone down and stepped into my space, his eyes blazing with an intensity that took my breath away. "Claire, my father spent my entire life telling me that I was soft. He told me that without his name, I was an empty suit. Tonight, when I took your hand on that hardwood floor, I felt alive for the first time in thirty-two years. Don't let Julian Vance steal another second of your life. We do this. Together."
A knock on the door broke the trance.
Ethan moved immediately, placing himself between me and the hallway. He cautiously unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open a crack.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway was Daniel Vance.
He was completely drenched from the rain, his expensive tuxedo ruined, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. He looked like a man who had lost his soul.
"Daniel?" I stepped out from behind Ethan.
The former champion fell to his knees on the worn linoleum of the hallway, right outside my threshold. He didn't care about dignity. He didn't care about pride.
May you like
"Claire," Daniel choked out, tears mixing with the rainwater running down his hollow cheeks. "I didn't know. I swear to God on my mother's grave, I didn't know what he did to you."
***
