AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Someone needed to put her manners back in for her.”
He opens the car door for me. “I have a feeling someone has needed to do that her whole life, but why did it have to be you?”
I give him a wicked grin. “Because she found the wrong button and kept pushing it.”
Massimo is strangely quiet during the drive back to his apartment. Gone are the relaxed shoulders and the easygoing nature of a man who likes to tease me.
No, in his place is a man with something on his mind.
Something big enough to affect his mood completely.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’ve gone quiet. You seem tense.” Then it hits me. “Oh, is it the shoes. Were they too much? I didn’t even think about asking you if the price was too much, because I was blinded by all the bling. That happens, you know. Getting visually drunk on all the shiny things. I think it’s a real affliction. If they cost too much, we can always take them back—"
“The shoes are perfect.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You are going to look beautiful on Friday night.”
He gives me another smile that doesn’t hit.
Something isn’t adding up. But I decide to let it go. He’s a busy man. He’s probably put off doing some important stuff, and now he’s refocusing on what he has to do for the rest of the day.
When he lets us into his apartment, I turn around and come face to face with his chest. He’s close enough for me to feel the heat of his body swim around me. And his scent, God, his scent, it’s like a hit of smack sending a wakeup call to every pleasure neuron in my brain.
“Thank you for this morning,” I say, trying not to outwardly show how being this close to him affects me. “I don’t know what to say.”
He looks down at me, his face unreadable, but I can feel something, something dark and warm emanating from him. He’s in two minds about something. I’d even go as far as to say the decision is torturing him.
“I have to go,” he says.
I hate that he’s leaving, and I can’t keep the surprise out of my tone. “Are you coming back?”
He pauses at the door. “Not tonight.”
My stomach drops. But I don’t show it. I plaster on a smile.
“Thanks for today.”
He smiles but it’s sad and those rigid shoulders are back. “I’ll see you soon.”
I nod, trying not to feel the disappointment coiling in my chest.
“Massimo,” I call out to him, and he stops and turns around, and I see it on his face. Something is hurting him. “Are you sure this is what you want? Me being your date on Friday night?
This time his smile does reach his eyes.
“Nothing will bring me more pleasure than having you on my arm, little monster.”
And without another word he turns, and leaves.
29
BIANCA
That night I meet Eve at Lair.
We’re in her office, and I’m dressed and ready for my first dance for the mysterious client who Eve has confirmed has booked me twice a week for the next few months.
“So who is he?” I ask her.
She gives me a pointed look. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because some of our clients like to remain anonymous and he is one of them.”
“But you know who he is, right?”
“Of course.”
“He’s not some creep, is he?”
Her eyes go round. “No! He’s a good guy.”
I eye her suspiciously. For her to react so vehemently to the question, she must know him better than she’s letting on.
“You know, it might help me to know a little bit about him so I can ensure he enjoys the performance,” I suggest.
“Nice try, but I’m not telling you anything other than he’s not a creep and he’s only interested in seeing you dance.”
For a split second, I wonder if its Massimo, and a shiver of excitement travels up my spine.
But then my good sense steps in. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this.
Or does he?
“Massimo still doesn’t know about me dancing in the peep show, right?”
“Where did that question come from?” She looks surprised. Then she frowns. “Oh, you think your mysterious client is Massimo?” She laughs as if it’s a ridiculous idea.
“Okay, okay, it was a reach,” I say. “But it’s got me intrigued why this client wants to remain anonymous.”
“Don’t overthink it.”
“I can’t help it. That’s my default factory setting.”
“I know it is.” She leaves her desk to stand in front of me and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Go in there and dance your little black heart out, okay Twinkle Toes.”
“I’m nervous.”
“You’ve got this.” She smiles and its comforting. “Don’t dance for whoever is on the other side of the glass. Dance for yourself.”
I’m nervous as I step into the peep room. But the moment George Michael’s “Freeek!” starts to play, my nerves fall away, and I get lost in the moment. It’s like I’m being taken over by the music and my body begins to move with its own natural rhythm.
