They couldn't wait for her to slink back to wherever she came from—those old guys probably had bets on how she'd make a fool of herself!
As Regina neared Dahlia's dressing room, she caught the lilt of voices inside.
Dahlia's voice was sugary sweet, a stark contrast to the crisp and precise dance moves she was known for on stage.
But, playing the coquette in front of her boyfriend was understandable, Regina supposed.
"Ms. Tanner, could you hang tight here for a sec? I'll let Dahlia know you're here."
Regina nodded, arms folded across her chest, a look of unfazed confidence playing on her face that piqued Sienna's interest.
Dahlia was known to be a tough cookie, one that even she, Dahlia's agent, couldn't sway—what chance did young Regina stand?
But since Regina only asked for a minute of Dahlia's time, Sienna figured she could play matchmaker. It'd also shut up those blabbermouths at New Blossom Press.
"Dahlia, there's a reporter from New Blossom Press wanting a quick word, just a minute of your time."
Dahlia furrowed her brow, her expression souring. "Didn't I tell you? I'm not available for interviews, no exceptions. Do I need to spell it out?"
Nolan looked toward the door. "Do you always get hounded like this when you're back in town?"
A tired smile crossed Dahlia's face. "You know I'm not one for the social scene. Outside the spotlight, where I dance for my audience, I just want solitude.
The curse of a dancer, eh? We can't escape the limelight. It's this sliver of fame that bugs me.
What's there for them to probe into? They don't get dance. What could I possibly have to say to them?
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