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I keep my eyes on the stage, waiting for Ash to emerge with the girls. They have to learn the routine first, so I suppose they will be backstage for a while.
Sloan taps me on the arm. I ignore him until he hits me harder the second time. I turn my head, giving him my ear, but don’t look at him.
“We need to make this work,” he says. “Stop acting like a dick.”
Max is staring at us. With Ash about to shake her ass on stage and Max pushing me for an answer, anger seethes through me, causing my hands to shake. I bite back what I want to say to Max and his dipshit brothers. They are nothing more than rich assholes who buy companies. I already gave up enough equity in my company to get it off the ground. I’m not about to give these assholes another piece of the pie along with my code.
“Walk with me,” I say to Sloan and then slide off the chair.
Sloan chases after me, at my side before I reach the bar in the back of the room.
“What’s the problem, D?”
“You don’t get it,” I snap.
Sloan flags down the bartender and orders two beers. “Talk to me. Why don’t you want this deal to happen?”
“I’ve already told you. You don’t get it.”
Sloan takes the beers from the bartender, passes one to me, and we clink our bottles together.
“It’s just an algorithm,” he says between sips of his beer.
“No, it’s not,” I shout without meaning to be so loud. Taking a deep breath, I regain my focus and lower my voice. “The algorithm is our company. If we sell it, we’re handing over the one thing they need to build other apps.”
He sets his bottle on the bar, his eyes holding mine. “I don’t get it.”
“The algorithm does more than match Ditchers with Crashers. It can predict the likelihood of two people’s compatibility, but it’s much more complicated than that.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I did. You weren’t listening to me.”
“What do we do?”
I roll my shoulders. “Walk away from the deal.”
The house lights dim again, and this time, a different jazz tune fills the air. My attention falls to the stage, where Ash, Willow, and Savanna are standing with a few women in flapper costumes. I stare at Ash’s curves in the tight black corset, high-waisted panties, and fishnet stockings.
She’s popping out of her clothes, gaining the notice of other men in the club. Seeing her in this outfit that leaves little to the imagination, I want nothing more than to rid her of those clothes. I would give anything to watch her slowly strip away each layer.
This isn’t my first time at Bella’s Cabaret. We have come here in the past for business meetings. But I never paid much attention to the cabaret shows taking place around us. At least not until tonight.
Ash moves to the tempo, flinging her hands out at her sides, rocking her hips as if she performs this routine every night. She loves being on the stage, commanding our attention.
My cock jerks with each seductive stare and the gentle sway of Ash’s hips. Images of last night fill my mind, even when I try to push them away. I get lost in the dance and the music, ignoring the fact Sloan is standing next to me.
After the short routine ends, the house lights go back to a soft glow that illuminates the crowd. The girls enamor everyone in the place, their hands raised to clap. Some of the men whistle.
A dark-haired man approaches the stage in front of Ash. He’s probably in his late fifties and dressed in a sharp black suit. Ash bends down to speak to him, showing off a nice bit of cleavage.
I nudge Sloan in the side with my elbow. “Do you know that guy talking to Ash?”
He squints, straining to get a better look. “Dominic Deville.”
“The movie producer?”
He pounds the rest of his beer and nods. “Let’s go see what he wants from my sister.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ash
I stare at the audience as the house lights rise to a yellow glow, illuminating the men's faces in the first few rows. They are clapping, cheering, and even whistling for us. I take a bow along with the rest of the girls, and then a dark-haired man approaches the stage. He stops in front of me and beckons me with his index finger.
Why does he look so familiar?
I bend down to meet his gaze, forcing a smile.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Ash.”
He extends his hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Ash. I’m Dominic Deville.”
My mouth hangs open in shock. Dominic Deville is one of the hottest indie film producers. He gave Nico Chase his big break almost a decade ago.
What does he want from me?
“You were good,” Dominic says in a deep voice that sounds like a growl. “Have you acted before?”
