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Ronan’s eyes dip briefly to my tits, and he licks his lips. The action has heat pooling between my legs, but I have to focus on channeling my anger and glaring at him.
“I need more than one set tonight.”
The bastard is shaking his head before I even finish speaking.
“That’s not going to happen,leannán,” he sighs, turning his attention to the spreadsheet on his iPad. Um, excuse me? I’m looking fly as hell here!
“I’m not your sweetheart,” I spit out angrily. “I haven’t danced in five days. Ineedmore than one set tonight.”
I speak slowly and carefully, enunciating every word. The infuriating asshole smirks up at me, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers, tapping them against his mouth as he studies me.
“That might be so, lass,” Ronan speaks as slowly and carefully as I did. “But ye still only have the one set tonight. Take it or leave it.”
“Of course, I’m taking it! But if I only get the one, I’m going topless.”
There is a dangerous flash in his eye. Shit. I swallow as I remember his anger the last time I did that. And what followed.
“I believe I have yer promise that won’t happen again,leannán.” Ronan’s voice is silky smooth, low, and dangerous. I fight the urge to shiver, pressing my legs together as my vagina pulses.
“Lap dances then,” I coax, cutting off as the look that crosses his face isn’t just angry or dangerous. It’s downright lethal.
He stands, placing his hands near mine and leaning across the table until his face is inches away.
“I wouldn’t want to be ye if ye try it, lass.”
This time I do shudder at the danger in his tone.
“Yer set starts in ten minutes. Since it’s yer only one, ye wouldn’t want to miss it,” he continues quietly.
Snapping my teeth together, I turn on my heel and march out of the room, not even sparing him a backward glance. I have had it up toherewith Ronan fucking Murphy. Something’s got to give, and I have a feeling it will be my temper.
RONAN
Liam is toying with his phone as Fiona struts off the stage, swinging her hips. My eyes follow as she does the rounds of the tables, collecting her tips.
I sit with my arms folded over my chest and glare at every man she smiles at. They all get the message, throwing down their cash and quickly averting their eyes. That’s right. Eyes off my lass.
When she gets to the table beside ours, the Italian there smolders at her, flirting and ignoring my glares. Ever since the too-do over Paddy’s little lass, the Italians have been pushing their fucking luck with us. I know Niall fucked one up that got a little too flirty with his wife when she worked as a bartender.
Fiona smiles, flipping her hair over her shoulder and reaching for the cash he holds out. He moves it out of her reach, smirking.
“Do you do lap dances?”
Fiona’s eyes flicker over me for the briefest moment as my eyes narrow on her. No, she fucking doesn’t.
“How much are you offering?”
What. The. Fuck? I see red. Surging out of my seat, I close the space between us in two strides, my fingers closing around her upper arm.
“No, she doesn’t do fecking lap dances,” I spit at the Italian while Fiona scowls up at me. I pull her away from his table as she tries to tug her arm out of my grasp. That’s not happening. I’m not letting her go until she’s back in the dressing room with a robe around her.
“I can do lap dances if I want to! What was even the point of me learning all that shit if Ineverget to use it?”
I turn my furious gaze on her, but she doesn’t falter, tipping her chin up at me defiantly.
“And you know what? If you don’t let me do them here, maybe I’ll go elsewhere, where they’ll actually let me do my fucking job!”
She’s crossed the line. Fucking run all over it. My fraying temper snaps. Snatching her tips out of her hand, I slap them against Liam’s chest as he drops his phone, his hands coming up to grab the money, his eyes wide.
