She’d left everything on that makeshift stage in a rehabbed factory. Nothing held back.The rest of the company had performed as if their lives depended on every precise step and every ounce of emotion mined from the deepest wells of hope, ambition and shared enthusiasm.When it came to dance, Transit was a success. They couldn’t have pushed harder. They couldn’t have been more amazing. Everything had gone according to plan, with more passion than Naya could’ve imagined.After less than an hour to clean up, which explained her wet hair, Naya and Daniel entered a sleek, intimate bar three doors down from the converted packing plant. No matter what happened, she would always think fondly of that big old building. It was like Remy’s crappy studio apartment and Declan’s office and the decadent bedroom she shared with Daniel—not the spaces themselves, but the memories they held.Daniel was immaculately dressed in a tailored business suit of dark navy wool. He was powerful, his features striking and commanding.
