The Lost Alpha Princess by Riley Above Story

Chapter 24 

I had a good night’s sleep and was feeling better this morning, but I was horrified about the prospect of getting up and attempting to dance in front of three hundred guests. 

I found Alex in his private workspace in the morning. 

“I…I can’t dance,” I told him. “You d …don’t want anyone to see me d…dance.” 

Couldn’t he tell I’m an awkward, uncoordinated mess who should never attempt to sully a dance floor? 

“I’ve s…seen ballroom dan…dancing on television,” I said, recalling the elegant, graceful couples and how they moved in unison across a dance floor. “But I …I can’t do it.” 

“Nonsense,” Alex replied. “I’ll hire a dance instructor. You’ll learn how to dance. Your mother and I loved to dance together. It’s fun. You’ll see. Just try it, sweetheart.” 

I sighed. I couldn’t say no to Alex. I could tell he wanted the best for me. 

Maybe it would turn out better than the pool party. But even before Bella pushed me. into the pool, the party had been a disaster for me. 

That was my fault. I am an introverted, unlucky klutz with.no social skills. 

Whenever I grew nervous, I knew I would stutter, so it was easier to keep to myself and only socialize with Amy. And dancing was never something I considered doing. 

Yet, my new ballroom dancing instructor appeared after lunch that day. Alex must have paid him a lot to get him to show up this fast and on a Sunday. 

When Alex called me to his study that afternoon, he introduced me to Ambrose Sargent, my dance instructor. 

Ambrose was a well–groomed male in his early thirties with a lean, athletic b*dy, a glowing complexion, and a hairstyle that didn’t move at all. I wanted to touch it to see what kept it perfectly in place. 

His expression showed me that I wasn’t what he was expecting either. Yet, he shook my hand and said it was a delight to meet me. 

It wouldn’t take long for him to regret taking the job as my instructor. 

“Benson has the music room set up for your lessons,” Alex said. “Please begin at once. We only have a few weeks to prepare you for the ball.” 

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Chapter 24 

My shoulders sagged as I led Ambrose to the music room. It felt like I was heading for my execution rather than an afternoon of dance lessons. I knew I would be a total disaster on the dance floor. 

But Ambrose was encouraging and kind as he put classical music on the sound system and took my hand. 

“We will begin with something easy,” he declared. “It’s called a Waltz. A Waltz is the easiest dance to learn because it is a slow, smooth dance with only four steps.” 

As the familiar music played, “da da da da da, dum dum, dum dum, dum dum. Ambrose tried to lead me around the dance floor. But on the second turn. I stepped on his foot so hard he yelped in pain. 

“You…you don’t nah…need to do this,” I said. “I …I can’t dance.” 

“Anyone can learn to dance,” Ambrose insisted. He walked off his injury and restarted the music. 

This time I tripped over my own feet and staggered into a wall. On the third attempt, I stomped on Ambrose’s foot even harder. 

“Miss Wilson, you need to loosen up a bit,” Ambrose advised. “Your b*dy is very rigid. That makes it difficult for you to move gracefully. Please, try to relax, and you’ll do much better.” 

I had to give Ambrose credit. He was patient…and brave. 

He started the music again, and we made one inclegant turn around the room. Then I tripped over nothing and caused us to crash into the grand piano in one corner of the 

room. 

“Are you 

you…you okay?” I asked Ambrose as he leaned against the piano rubbing his hip.“We..we can g…give up now.” 

“It’s just a little bruise.” Ambrose grimaced. “Give me a moment, and we will begin again.” I admired his determination but feared for his toes. 

Ambrose began the music again, and I tried to relax and let him lead me through the simple steps. I understood the mechanics of the dance, but my b*dy seemed too awkward to maintain the flowing moves. 

On my next turn around the floor, I kicked Ambrose in the ankle hard enough to make him groan. On the second try, I brought us both crashing to the floor. 

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Ambrose’s head had bounced off the wood flooring when we landed, and he laid still for a long moment. I was relieved when he finally spoke. 

“Perhaps we should try the Foxtrot instead,” he suggested. 

“Per…perhaps we should g…give up,” I said. “You’re going going to get h…hurt.” 

“Nonsense,” Ambrose insisted. After he got to his feet, he changed the music and explained the dance we were going to try next. 

The guy was a trooper. How much was Alex paying him? 

“The Foxtrot has four steps,” Ambrose explained. “It combines two long, slow steps and then two short, quick steps. The first and third steps are accented. Watch me do it alone first.” 

The Foxtrot didn’t look hard when Ambrose demonstrated it by himself. “Slow, slow; quick, quick,” he said as he moved. 

He made it look simple. Maybe I could do this one. I smiled as he restarted the music, and then I stepped into his arms. 

Ambrose moved slowly at first, allowing me time to get used to the steps. I was beaming with pride when he said I was ready to try it at normal speed. 

But halfway through the second pattern, I lost my balance and took us to the floor again. 

I heard something snap, and Ambrose screamed in pain. 

“I’m so sorry,” I said and sat up. “Let me …me help you…you up.” 

But he shook his head and stayed on the floor, cradling his right arm against his b*dy. Between his wrist and his elbow, his arm didn’t look normal, and he was panting. 

“Why is your arm crooked?” I asked. 

“It’s broken, Miss Wilson,” he replied stiffly. The poor man was in pain, and it was my fault. 

“I’ll get help.” I said and hurried from the room. “I’m really sorry,” I called over my shoulder. 

I warned him I wouldn’t be able to learn how to dance. I felt terrible that Ambrose got hurt, but he and my father wouldn’t listen to me. 

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I found Benson and alerted him that Ambrose needed an ambulance. He promised to take care of it, and I began to run to my room in the other wing of the mansion. 

I was hopeless. Precisely like the pool party, my dance lessons were a complete disaster. I should stay in my room for the rest of my life. 

Tears ran down my face, blinding me, as I ran toward the foyer. I needed to be alone. before I started sobbing. I’d had more than enough humiliation for a while. 

Blinded by my tears, I was running through the foyer and ran into something hard that moved. 

“Hey! Slow down, or look where you’re going.” A man’s voice said. It was Victor. 

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I need to g…get to my room.” 

“Nothing is chasing you,” Victor teased. “What’s your hurry? And why are you crying?” 

“I…I broke Am …Ambrose’s arm,” I sobbed. 

“The dance instructor?” Victor asked. 

I nodded. “I can’t do anything right. I can’t swim, talk, or dance.” 

“You talk to me pretty well,” Victor said. “I’m sure you could do anything if you had enough practice and the right teacher.” 

“My dance instructor is lying on the floor with a broken arm and maybe a concussion,” I said around more sobs. “Alex will have to cancel the ball.” 

“No, this ball means a great deal to your father,” Victor said. “It’s his way of making up for missing seventeen years of your life.” 

“But I can’t dance!” I cried. 

“Anyone can learn to dance, and you must, for your father’s sake,” Victor insisted. 

“I’ll teach you myself.” 

“Wh…hat?” I looked up at him. 

Victor extended his right hand to me and smiled, just like how princes in those TV dramas invited the princess to dance. 

I slowly placed my hand in his.