Chapter 3 3

Amelia's Perspective

I fixed the fresh, lovely flowers at the reception, covering it for a little bit while Leila is making herself tea.

"Good afternoon."- spoke deep, fruity, smokey, coarse, velvety and titillating voice, catching my full attention.

I smiled at the man and little girl by his side, feeling my heart flutter at how sweetly the girl smiled at the sight of my attitude.

The man is devilishly handsome. Too handsome to be true.

Soft, clear, smooth, dewy skin looks sublime. Chocolate brown, velvety, voluminous hair is longer in the middle as it is a tiny bit shorter at the sides. Rich brown stands are slightly curly; the style that suits him immensely.

Perfectly sculpted face with sharp jawline and cheekbones; beautiful nose; brown brows are ideally shaped; long, thick, dark lashes; plump, full lips with defined cupid-bow.

His eyes are like pools of honey. The colour is enchanting, leaves you speechless and disoriented. His gaze is mysterious, yet friendly; cold, yet more alluring than anything could ever be.

He is exceedingly tall and very vigorous. Broad, manly shoulders with strapping back; muscular, neatly inked arms with veins popping; vast, finely honed chest; lean waist; attractive hips; long, toned legs. White shirt has top buttons undone, offering glimpse of his chest, and the sleeves are rolled up, showing off his rugged arms. Black trousers with suitable belt and shoes. Hand watch shines lavishly.

"Good afternoon, Sir

"Good afternoon, Sir. Can I help you?"- I spoke softly with a smile, meeting his intense gaze.

"Yes. I would like to sign up my daughter to the classes."- said collectedly the man as I glanced at the girl, who is beaming with excitement.

I personally formed all groups yesterday, so technically I have no more spots left. Moreover, it is not just come and join thing. It is selection by athletic level, age and capabilities, which a child can demonstrate on the first trial class.

But I have no heart to say no to this little angel; she looks so sweet and delighted. I never do such things since I want everyone to be equal, but she has my heart in ways I have never felt before.

"What's your name, honey?"- I asked her, crouching down to her level.

"Zara Dixon, Ma'am."- spoke politely girl with a radiant smile, holding a white unicorn in her hand as the other is locked with her dad's large, veiny, inked one.

I wrote down her name in the form before meeting her curious gaze.

"It is very nice to meet you, Zara. I am Amelia James."- I spoke softly with a smile, feeling like I won the lottery when she smiled brighter.

"How old are you?"- I asked her to know in which group I better take her to.

"I am 3 years old."- answered Zara happily and I marked them according space on the form, making her part of group from 3 to 5 years old.

I rose on my feet and put the form on the surface to write better. I wrote down details regarding her group, as well as the list of what she will need: ballet slippers, leotard, tights, skirt, and bobby bins to secure her bun.

"Would Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 10:00 o'clock work for you?"- I asked warmly, looking him in the eyes.

"Yes."- replied calmly the man and I ticked according to the days and hours on the form.

Once I filled out the form, adding contact information and tuition fee, I got to health condition details. It is very important to me to look after my student's well-being.

"Does she have any health issues?"- I asked softly with a smile.

"No, she is perfectly healthy."- replied Mr Dixon and I wrote down the condition.

I handed him the form and smiled at how quickly the little girl's excitement leaped.

"I look forward to seeing you, Zara."- I said warmly, crouching down to her level.

"Thank you, Miss James."- she chirped sweetly, smiling preciously.

"I expect to see you with a neat, sleek bun tomorrow, alright?"- I asked softly and she nodded eagerly.

We exchanged see you soons and they left. The moment the door closed, Leila wowed louder than necessary, making me gasp out of scare.

"He is hot as fuck."- she whispered to me, keeping her colourful language down as kids are here.

"Quit it. He is probably in a relationship."- I told her and she smirked smugly.

"He has no ring and checked you out."- she added surely, but I brushed it off.

I am nothing to be interested in. I am always viewed as a typical blonde: stupid, cannot drive, gold digger, plastic and gets what she wants because of someone's input. I haven't met at least 1 person, who hasn't judged me faster than I could introduce myself. There is nothing that can surprise me any longer and I am used to being misunderstood, taken too lightly, being judged and underestimated.

I went on with my day, teaching the classes per usual, having my own policy.

I became professional ballerina by being insulted and hit with a wooden stick by very strict, unfair French lady. That is something I do not want my students to endure. I teach with respect, patience, support and kindness. If I have to explain or repeat something again, I will and it won't be a big deal.

At 7PM the classes finished and the cleaning staff tidied up as I checked all preparation for the newly joined groups. There are 10 new groups, but I am not the only teacher, so it all works smoothly and nicely. Also, this time there are more boys, so that's exciting as it allows to introduce more lifts and twirls, as well as creates better communication skills.

Past 9PM I finished, so I changed and took my Dior bag, grabbing car keys on my way out. I locked up and went to my car - white Porsche. I buckled up and drove to my penthouse, not looking forward to an empty space.

Who would? There is no point in having so much if you have no-one to share it with. I want someone to wait for me at home, to spend time with me, to love, to kiss, to support, to hug, to find comfort in and to have a family with.

But it seems like my dream man is nowhere to be found. All I want is somebody, who is erudite, caring, affectionate, strong-willed, reliable, funny, diligent, knows what he wants, kind, attentive and thoughtful. I don't care about financial situation, looks, race, religion - all of it doesn't matter. If someones loves me for me, I will give him everything I am and own.

I brushed off the bitter thoughts and parked in the private parking lot. Once I took my bag and locked the car, I headed to my penthouse, which is on the 15th floor.

I locked the door and sighed, putting the Dior bag on the small table in the entry way, stepping out of my white heels. I went to the kitchen and made myself peppermint tea.

I sat down on the balcony, wrapping myself in the blanket, and looked at the nighttime London: people laughing and walking, cars driving by, lights of the stores and houses. I smiled as I spotted a family: a mother, father, and a little boy. They are laughing and strolling along the street, taking pictures of themselves.

I wonder how parents' care feels, how it feels to have someone to call your family. It must feel very nice: support, care, warmth, comfort, the feeling of being accepted and loved. I didn't get a chance to feel it as I was heartlessly disowned at the chance given.

Time ticked by and I went inside, heading to the bathroom. I took off my clothes and untied my bun, letting my hair down. I took a long, hot shower, washing my body and hair. Then I tied a big towel around my body and stepped out of the spacious, glass shower.

I brushed my teeth and did my skincare before taking care of my hair. Then I lightly blow-dried it. I went to my closet and wore lacy undergarments and a white, silk nightgown that reached my mid-thighs. After that I applied lip oil and hand cream before getting in bed.

I reached for the book on my nightstand and opened it where I left off, continuing reading the novel for a long while until tiredness took over me.