Chapter Four
“I need to check in with Susan and get the staff meeting underway.” Julia strode away from Maggie.
Have you no shame, woman? Stop looking at his arse.
The vibes from her skeleton staff weren’t encouraging, but she pinned on a friendly smile. “Thank you for coming,” she said, studying the faces of the women clustered around the bar. “I’ve gone over the books and this is what I propose. We’ll close for two weeks while we do a facelift on the place.” She ran through the rest of her plans for the club. “While the club is shut, I’ll need help with painting and some of the other stuff. I’ll also do rehearsals for stripping and burlesque. Before you go tonight, let me know if you want to keep working here or if you intend to hand in your notice. Questions?”
“What about pay?” one woman asked.
“Those who come in to help and turn up for rehearsals will receive their regular pay.”
“I can’t survive without my tips,” the woman said.
“From what I saw last night, tips are few and far between,” Julia said briskly. “I’ll pay your base wage. Once we open again I hope we’ll bring in more punters, and everyone will receive tips.”
“A facelift is all very well.” The woman’s weary features held challenge. The heavy lines fanning from the corner of her eyes and mouth hinted at a hard life. Her voice rasped with the undertones of a heavy smoker. “But why the hell should we trust you? You’re young. A secretary, I hear. What the hell do you know about running a strip club?”
Julia met the woman’s gaze and understood she’d need to prove herself, to respond to the opposition. Wheeling about, she caught Ryan staring. A ripple of awareness shot the length of her body, irritating the hell out of her. She felt nothing for the rat.She. Did. Not.
She stalked over to him. “Cue some music for me, please. Can you manage that?” Her voice was icy and held distinct challenge. She held back a tiny snort of amusement at her behavior.Bitch, anyone?
“Anything in particular?” Ryan asked without missing a beat.
“Something up tempo.” Julia made her way onto the stage, aware everyone was watching her. The women on the staff nudged each other, most still wearing their belligerent expressions. To them she was theinterloper, the daughter who’d decided she could fix everything—the educated ‘ideas’ person who excelled at theory but had no field experience.
The first strains of a rock ballad flooded the club, one ofFrench Letters’top ten hits.How apt.Julia didn’t give into the temptation to glance in Ryan’s direction. The wretched man knew this was her favorite song. He’d sung it to her one night after they’d made love, their sweaty limbs still tangled together. The song—it held memories.
Julia closed her eyes to absorb the beat of the music, then opened them again as experience came to the fore, placing her firmly in the stripper mindset. She grinned, arching her back and gripping the pole in front of her for balance. Gazes fastened on her swaying body and followed the subtle twists of her shoulders, her hips, shooting prickling awareness through her. Ryan was watching her. She faltered for an instant.
Concentrate, stupid. This is about proving your point.
The length of her leg slid along the pole as she gripped it and tipped upside down. Confidence flooded her again, and she moved fluidly, as if she’d been dancing all along. Gliding sinuously to theFrench Letters’tune, she righted herself and winked at the gawking group, changing the mood of the dance into fun and flirty.
She strutted away from the gleaming pole, her fingers trailing up and down the placket of her blouse. One by one, she released her buttons, slowly revealing her curves, working it. A shoulder shrug here. A hip roll there. A few minutes later, her expensive blouse hit the floor.
A sharp whistle cut the air. Connor smirked at her while Maggie rose on tiptoe to clap her hands over his eyes.
Julia continued, determined to prove to her employees she understood what she was doing. Each move was sensuous, calculated and designed to inflame those watching the act—both male and female. The removal of her trousers wasn’t elegant, but she did her best, fluttering her eyelashes and pursing her lips at her audience. The fabric slipped down her legs, and she stepped free. Thank goodness for the wide-legged style.
Unhindered by clothing, she sashayed back to the pole, her breasts heaving with exertion. She ran through another sequence of gyrations, twisting and turning, dipping and arching her body into positions designed to entice. Entertain.
As the music passed the climax and slammed to an end, she upped her pace, spinning and hugging the pole, flowing into some of her showier tricks. Julia used the music and when it crashed into the finale, she held her final pose, chest rising and falling rapidly, blood rushing through her veins.
Silence fell.
Julia slid from the pole, scooped up her shirt and trousers and sauntered back to face her employees in just her matching lacey underwear. She was aware of the pleasure flooding her body, the buzz of exhilaration. Although she’d walked away from the occupation, it was obvious—to her at least—that showmanship ran through her blood. Her father’s family had told the truth. She was as common as her mother.
A round of applause broke out, her friends leading the charge.
“Any questions?” she asked crisply, purposely refraining from checking Ryan’s reaction.
“I’m in,” Maggie shouted from the left. “Lessons and everything.”
Julia scanned the faces, homing in on the woman who’d challenged her. “Do you have any other concerns?”
The woman shook her head, poker face in place. “You’ve surprised me, and that doesn’t happen often, but I’ve got kids to feed. I can’t wait around until you get the club running again.”
“Fair enough.” Julia wasn’t about to argue. She needed a team who stood behind her in everything. Men and women open to change and innovative ideas, because that’s what it’d take to get this club back to the stage where the punters queued, willing to wait to gain admittance.
