“Yeah,Rob.”
Natasha’s pulse picked up at the sound of Dimitri’s deep, commanding voice. He was there, one of his big hands clamping onto the back of Rob’s neck. Rob flinched, and once he’d released Natasha, Dimitri tossed him back into the empty seat. Then Dimitri sat across from him and leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. His hands hung between his knees, not clenched into fists—no, Dimitri wouldn’t need to be that stereotypically threatening—but terrifying even in rest. He was a dancer, yes, but powerfully built, and intimidating even on the best of days. Rob was practically trembling.
Natasha bit her lip. The show hadn’t even started and this night was already a disaster. They should have stayed the fuck home.
A wicked scowl darkened Dimitri’s face. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “You want to tell me why you had your hands on my woman?”
Rob’s pale eyes darted between the two of them, and he wet his lips. “I . . . I hadn’t seen Maya in a long time, so I . . .”
“So, you thought you had the right to touch her?”
Natasha kept her attention on Dimitri. His voice was deceptively calm. She held her breath, but her skin still crawled from the feel of Rob’s touch. As much as she didn’t want to cause a scene—god, what if someone decided to film this and it got to the tabloids?—Dimitri’s presence calmed her.
“We’re not allowed to touch the girls.” Rob gestured at the stage. “But Maya said she doesn’t work here anymore, so I thought—”
“Again, you thought you had the right to touch her.”
Rob seemed to find a semblance of backbone. He sat up a little straighter. “Maya and I have something.”
When Dimitri’s gaze cut over to her, Natasha shook her head. Dimitri tilted his head toward Rob.
Natasha’s heart raced. He was giving her the floor, letting her take the lead in this altercation, if she wanted it. She didn’t doubt he’d haul Rob out of here if she said that was what she wanted, but he was giving her the choice.
She scooted closer to the edge of her seat and looked Rob square in the face. Dimitri’s hand dropped possessively onto her knee, giving her strength. He’d let her fight her own battles, but he was there to protect her and back her up if she needed.
Rob only had eyes for her. “Right, Maya? We have an understanding.” A note of pleading infused his voice. He wanted her to reinforce his fantasy. It was time to pop the bubble.
“No, Rob. We don’t.”
His brow creased. “You used to dance for me.”
“I used todance.There’s a difference.”
“Forme.”
She shook her head. “I danced five nights a week for whoever was here. It was a job. And then I quit.”
He blinked, and his mouth twisted into a confused frown. “I haven’t been able to forget you. I thought there was something in the way you looked atme.In the way you danced forme.You’re saying it was the same for everyone.”
She nodded. “It was a job,” she repeated.
“I wasn’t special.”
“No.”
When he sighed, all the life went out of him. His shoulders slumped, and he looked half his size. “You’re just a stripper.”
He didn’t say it accusingly. More like he was coming to terms with it.
“I was,” she said. Maybe she had to come to terms with it, too. It was just a job, not a secret shame to carry forever. “Not anymore.”
He wiped both hands over his face. “Sorry I bothered you,” he mumbled. Then he got to his feet and ambled away.
As soon as he was gone, Dimitri leaned back into his chair and covered his face with both hands.
“It took everything I had not to rip his head off,” he said, voice muffled.
“I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t have the money to bail you out of jail.”
