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You want to play this game? Fine. I’m going to win. I’m going to take you for everything you fucking have.
I swing around the pole again, coming down in a split, swinging my leg forward to crawl on my hands and knees towards him, my back arched. I slide forward, ass high in the air, and something sparks to life in his eyes that I don’t entirely understand, as if he’s remembering something.
It’s almost as if he’s remembering someoneelse, someone he went to bed with, maybe, imagining the arch of my back and the sway of my ass belonging to some woman he fucked.
White-hot jealousy that has no business existing flares to life in my veins, and I meet his gaze with my own, letting that heat seep into it. I think I see his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but his arms stay crossed over his chest as he watches me.
Just like the first night, he doesn’t tip. He doesn’t fling money onto the stage or try to stuff it anywhere in my lingerie. He does nothing but watch, his eyes burning into me no matter where Iturn or look, and I know in the back of my mind that this isn’t good.
Right now, he isn’t a paying customer. And I’m ignoring the ones that are.
I regain a little of my senses, turning towards the left of the stage, but it’s all but too late. The last beats of my song are playing, and I have a sick feeling in my stomach even before I turn towards the steps that will take me off the stage that Igor is watching.
Once he found out I was dancing tonight, he’d want to see if I was ‘recovered.’ My performance just now might have sealed my fate.
Fuck you, you fucking–
I hiss through my teeth, wanting to push my way through the crowd and find Mikhail. I want to get my hands around his throat, scream at him, but in the end, it’s only my fault. He might have taken the bait I hadn’t meant to put out, but I allowed myself to be distracted.
Igor points at me from where he’s standing at the bar, crooking his finger the same way he had before, and I let out a sigh.
I’m fucked.
I start mentally going down the list of other clubs as I walk toward him, trying to think of which one might not be the worst.Maybe Ruby can give me some insight as to where I’m the least likely to end up as a human trafficking victim.
“I thought I told you to take a few days off, recover from whatever–” he waves a meaty hand in my general direction. “Whatever is bothering you.”
“I’m fine,” I say as convincingly as I can, which isn’t as much as I’d like. I’m decidedlynotfine, but it has nothing to do with being sick and everything to do with the infuriating man who has decided, out of the blue, to fixate on me.
He’s hardly the first. He’s just the first one you’re actually attracted to. This is as much on you as it is him.
“You’re not.” Igor’s normally heavy Russian accent thickens even more, a clear sign that he’s pissed. “Two nights in a row, you don’t play the crowd. You are in another world as you dance. That might work on another kind of stage,devochka, but not here. Here you must make them want you. You must pay attention to the ones who do. You are here to make money, yes? For yourself–and for me.”
“Of course.” My mouth feels dry. I can tell he’s angrier than before, and I can see a red flush creeping up his neck. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better–the crowd was so large tonight, it was overwhelming–”
“These are excuses.” His lips thin, his eyes narrowing at me. “I think perhaps this is not the right place for you,devochka. I need girls who listen. Who perform.”
My heart skips a beat, stuttering in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, my eyes widening. I’ve never begged a man for anything in my life, but I can feel myself on the verge of breaking that now. “Truly, I am. I’ll be better. I’ll ask Ruby for advice; the other girls–”
“Now, you wish to distract my other dancers?” Igor shakes his head. “I think you should go–”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
I go very still at the sound of Mikhail’s voice just beside me. I don’t dare look at him, but I can feel his heat, the smooth fabric of his shirt almost brushing my arm as he stands next to me.
Igor’s brows draw together in irritation, but his attention turns fully towards Mikhail. If there’s one thing Igor excels at, it’s recognizing an opportunity. “Yes,syn?”
“I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation with the lovely Athena, or to eavesdrop, but I think I might be at fault here.”
“How so?” Igor grunts, looking between the two of us. “Athena, you know him?”
“He’s been here once before,” I say quickly. “He bought time in the champagne room.”
“And I’d like to do so again,” Mikhail interjects smoothly. “At double the normal price, to make up for distracting your dancer during her set. Of course, I’d hope that would be enough to put to rest any ideas of letting her go.”
Igor’s eyebrows rise at that. “Of course. Double, you say? For the hour?”
“Double for the hour,” Mikhail confirms. “No interruptions.”
