She nods and smiles knowingly. "No time off when you’re a lawyer. Well, I'd love to hear about your new place in Brookhaven when you get a chance. I've heard that town is adorable."
"Come visit anytime. I have a lake house right on the water. It's like my own private escape away from the city noise."
"I'll take you up on that, Rosie." She hugs me again and then turns toward the main floor of the club, leaving me alone once again.
I take a deep breath in, pressing a flat palm to my chest to still my racing heartbeat as I hear the next song begin and the new dancers join the stage for their performance.
That was...a rush.
For the first time, I’ve done something completely out of character that’s solely for me. My cheeks ache from smiling, and my dark blonde waves are a tousled mess. But somehow, I feel beautiful.
I smooth my hair down with shaky hands, adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. Then grabbing my bag, I head toward the dressing room, ready to call it a night on this whole wild experience.
But before I can, a tall, broad man in a security shirt with the club logo on his chest steps in front of me, blocking the path.
“You Rose?” He asks. His voice is low and gravelly. All business.
“Um... yeah?”
He nods, his face unreadable. “Guy paid for a private dance with you.”
My stomach drops. “Oh… um, I don’t think—”
He cuts me off with a raised hand, his expression making it clear this isn’t a negotiation. You dance once and apparently you become a part of their staff.
“He already paid. We don’t do refunds. Go. Now. Table 19.”
I glance around for Amelia, for anyone who can save me from this situation, but she’s nowhere in sight and I’m alone. I’m on my own staring at a bodyguard so big he could easily throw me over his shoulder and force me to give this dance if I try to refuse.
The rational, lawyer side of me knows I could argue my way out of this if I really wanted to. But here I am, standing in sheer fabric that barely covers anything, with a full face of makeup I'd never wear, and for some reason, my lawyer mode is nowhere to be found.
Instead,Rose,the woman who wants a few more wild minutes acting out of character decides to saylet’s do it!
“Okay, sure,” I say, more to myself than him.
I can do this. I’m a strong, capable woman. A little lap dance won’t kill me. If anything, it might be fun.
I follow him out onto the club floor, rolling my shoulders up and back, forcing myself to exude confidence I absolutely don’t feel.
The difference between being on stage and being out here is staggering. On stage, the lights blind you, the distance shields you, and the audience is just a faceless blur. But here, among the scattered tables and chairs, with patrons sitting close enough to touch and drinks flowing freely, there’s nowhere to hide. Fear has nowhere to go but out into the open.
At least it's dark out here.
As I approach Table 19, my pulse quickens, each beat hammering harder in my chest as I lay eyes on who purchased the dance.
No.
It’s a group of men, all around my age. Likely late twenties, maybe early thirties, with a few older stragglers in their forties. And they all look like athletes.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and ridiculously good-looking.
My brain spirals as I try to guess what sport they might play, but before I can land on an answer, I’m already standing next to their table next to the security guard. Every eye is on me, and I feel the heat of their collective gaze like a spotlight.
Thankfully, I'm wearing some heavy makeup that I'd never wear in my normal life and the lighting out here is so dim that in theimpossible chance they'd run into me outside of the club, they should never recognize me.
The security guard looks at me and grunts then turns to leave once he’s certain I won’t run away.
A tall man with shaggy blonde hair and a grin too wide to be anything but trouble stands up, extending a hand. “Penn,” he says, his voice smooth and friendly.
