Victoria hadn't expected to run into anyone she knew—let alone someone connected to McNeil.
The surprise distracted her, and as she stepped down, her foot twisted beneath her. A sharp crack echoed up her leg. She stifled a groan as pain shot through her, collapsing to the floor.
"Vicky!"
Sophia gasped. Before she could react, Marcus had already crossed the room in a few long strides and swept Victoria up into his arms.
"Are you alright?"
He couldn't tell if his sudden arrival had startled her into this, but he had a sinking feeling it had.
"I twisted my ankle," Victoria replied, grimacing as the pain surged.
Every move she made on the dance floor was demanding—sometimes even pushing the boundaries of what was possible for a female dancer. But years of grueling physical training, thanks to her background as a racecar driver, had prepared her body for almost anything. Almost.
It was Marcus's unexpected appearance that had shaken her, making her lose her footing and ultimately injuring herself.
"Check if you've broken anything—oh my God—" Sophia could barely get the words out, her voice trembling with fear. Max hovered nearby, his worry etched plainly across his face.
"We need to get you to a hospital," he said quietly. He wasn't a doctor, but anyone could see that Victoria's right foot was immobile, and that this was more than a simple sprain.
Victoria was still in her dance leotard, its close fit accentuating her figure as Marcus held her. For the first time, Marcus felt his pulse quicken over a woman—just one glance, and he was uncharacteristically unsettled.
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