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“Sure thing, boss,” he says. “You got this place running like a well-oiled machine. Delivery is here now, so I’ll make sure everything’s squared.”
“Thanks.”
And I step out and go through to the side of the lot where my car is and get in.
Finally, I can breathe, away from men and drugs and Ellie. And I enjoy being on the open road heading toward Dallas.
It’s not until I finish my therapist session and am on the way to a club that I notice the car.
My heart starts to beat rapidly, and my fingers bite the wheel.
Someone is following me.
The car isn’t flash, just nondescript, tinted windows and . . . every turn I make it takes. It’s like fingers sliding deep into places they shouldn’t go. It’s like everything bad is happening all over again.
I turn left. Then right. So does the car. Finally, heart in my mouth, I pull up in the lot of the club.
The car keeps going.
I start to tremble, and it turns into shaking as hot tears press against my eyes and burn in my throat. Closing my eyes, I drop my head to my leather-covered wheel. I’m hot and cold, and I need a few minutes.
I thought I was getting better. But now I’m imagining being followed?
No, the car had followed me. Perhaps it had been heading in the same direction, and maybe it’s because I’ve been asking questions at work. Or maybe, just maybe, therapy is bringing all kinds of shit I don’t need to the surface.
With a deep breath, I open the door and cross the sunny lot to the door of the club. A distraction is what I need, and I take it gladly with both hands as I step inside.
* * *
I feel better and freer as I head back to work after a few more stops.
My plans are bigger than what I’m telling Angel and Reaper. I’m telling them nothing at all, not until I can solidify it.
Burlesque, something sexy and sensual and with a little something for everyone, that’s what I want for Hellfire Dancers. I want it classy. But that’s something to just work at, to focus on for the future. I know burlesque isn’t what my therapist means by having a goal to work toward, but I also don’t want to run a restaurant or anything like that. Even a normal bar isn’t my goal. Maybe I couldn’t protect myself, but the girls?
I can do that.
And eventually, I can give them—at least offer—a different slice of the world they’re in. They do it for the hours and the money and because that’s all there is for them. Some are going through school. Some are like Ellie, single young moms. Some are even married. Some like it. Everyone is different.
But to offer them a place where they can class it up is appealing. And I can grow that. I know I can.
There’s something in the air as I step into the darkness of the club. Even with the lights up, it’s dark. People are busy, but there’s a shift. It’s electric, and it makes my skin tingle.
I still haven’t looked at my phone, and I suppose I should. I pull it free as I open my office door.
I’m not alone. That electricity is like a livewire in the space of my office. And before I can turn, strong hands grab me and push me against the wall.
“Hey, Mia,” Christian says. “Since you weren’t answering your phone, I figured I’d come see you in person.”
This man with the killer dark amber eyes, and the hard mouth that has a sensual edge looks at me like I’m his next meal. Then he slides a leg between my thighs and presses his large, strong body against mine.
Christian Bandoni does the unforgivable.
He kisses me.
ChapterTwo
CHRISTIAN
