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“Not professionally.”
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a business card. A wave of excitement shoots through my body.
“Give me a call tomorrow. I have a project in mind for you.”
I glance down at the card, still in disbelief, and then my eyes meet Dominic’s deep brown irises.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I’m never this lucky. Did Sloan or Dylan put him up to this?
“Thank you,” I choke out after a long pause. “I will.”
He tips his head, a crooked grin in place, and then he slips through the crowd. I tuck Dominic’s business card into my corset top and follow the girls behind the curtain.
“Who was that?” Willow is at my side, tugging at the strings of her corset.
“Dominic Deville.”
Willow’s eyebrows rise. “You’re kidding me?”
I shake my head and hand her his card.
Savanna leans over Willow’s arm to read the card. “What did he say?”
“He wants me to call him tomorrow about a project.”
“If I was a legit agent,” Willow says, “I would rep you, girl. But I have to be patient until Boss Man gives me the green light to work with clients.”
“What about Vinnie?” Savanna turns, her back to me, and I help her unlace the strings of her corset. “Would he rep you?”
I laugh at her question. “I doubt it. Vinnie only reps the hottest actors in Hollywood.”
“Girl, you got a personal invite from Dominic Deville,” Willow says. “You bet your ass Vinnie would work with you.”
She’s probably right. Vinnie has a long-standing relationship with Dominic and his production company.
“I guess I could ask him.”
“No,” Savanna says. “You don’t guess. You do.” She turns to face me, stripping off the corset, her hand extended as she says, “Can you hand me my dress?”
I turn to grab it from the hanger on the rack behind me, and she continues, “March into his office tomorrow morning. Tell Vinnie what happened with Dominic. He’ll probably call Dominic for you.”
“I don’t want him involved.”
“Don’t chicken out,” Willow teases as she fixes her skirt back into place. “You’ve been handed the opportunity of a lifetime. Dominic Deville could make your career.”
“Fine,” I mutter as I strip out of my outfit.
The corset was way too tight, sucking the air from my chest. The woman who helped me lace up the strings must have thought she was putting me into a straitjacket. My triple D’s don’t exactly fit into tight clothing.
Willow leans against the wall, clicking keys on her cellphone. “Where are we going next? Your brother said something about another club.”
“He did? That’s news to me.”
“That’s for the boys,” Savanna says. “Max likes to finalize all of his deals at Vixen’s.”
Willow lifts her head from the screen to look up at Savanna. “A strip club?”
“Dylan is my ride home,” I point out.
Savanna waves her hand. “I got you covered, babe.”
Five hours later, my brother and Dylan stumble into the house, arguing with each other. Being a nosy bitch, I get out of bed and press my ear against the door.
“I told you I didn’t want to go,” Dylan says. “Nothing that asshole says or does will change my mind.”
Sloan’s voice is muffled.
“I don’t care,” Dylan snaps. “You need my signature to move forward.”
Sloan’s shoes pound the stairs as he heads up to his bedroom. Then, his door slams so loud it shakes the house. As Dylan makes his way down the hall, I open my door. He gasps when he sees me step a foot out of my room.
“Ash,” he whispers. “You scared me. Why aren’t you sleeping?” He glances at his Apple Watch. “It’s after three o’clock. You have to get up in a few hours.”
“So do you, Dylan.” I move toward him, and he smells of perfume and alcohol. “Why are you fighting with my brother?”
“Because…” He groans. “We’re not on the same page with the future of our company.”
“You two will figure it out,” I say, confident.
Dylan and my brother have been friends for most of their lives. They always fight, get it out of their systems, and then go back to being BFFs.
“I thought we worked everything out,” he admits. “But you know Sloan when he gets drunk. Max had his ear all night at the club. He convinced Sloan that I’m killing the deal on purpose.”
“Are you?”
Without hesitation, he nods. “It’s not a good fit for us.”
I move in front of him, gripping his shirt between my fingers.
“I need a shower,” he says, pushing my hands away. “I smell like strippers. You should go back to bed. We leave for work in a few hours.”
“You need me,” I say in a hushed tone.
“Ash,” he says, looking down at the floor. “I have enough problems with Sloan.”
“You need me, Dylan.”
I’m not backing down on this one. Dylan needs someone to lean on right now.
Lips parted, his pale blue eyes meet mine. “Get in the shower with me.”
