The comment makes me laugh, and I shove at his arm playfully. “Why Latin? People say it’s a dead language.”
“Because I think it’s beautiful. It’s the root of so many others. Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian.”
“Pretty impressive that you taught yourself a language.”
The compliment makes me flush with unexpected pleasure. “My English teacher said it was a sign of my stubbornness. But I think she was impressed too.”
Alessio tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, then kisses me softly. It feels different this time. Like a goodbye.
I’m right, because he gets out of bed and starts pulling his clothes back on.
“Don’t worry about the debt,” he says as he buttons his shirt. “No one will come for you again.”
The promise should make me purely relieved, but there’s something else threading through my chest. Gratitude, yes, but also a strange sense of loss I don’t want to examine too closely.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling the bedspread over my naked body.
He flashes that dimpled grin, and I imagine women probably fall all over themselves for this man. “I need to get back to work, but you can stay as long as you’d like. Sleep here if you want.”
After he leaves, I consider staying. This place is more luxurious than anywhere I’ve been in my life.
But I need to get back to reality.
As I get dressed, I run through the practical aftermath. I probably don’t have a job anymore after abandoning my shift, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Plenty of restaurants need servers, and now I won’t have to hand over every paycheck to Eric’s creditors.
The strangest part is how I feel right now. Taken care of. It’s not a feeling I’m used to. Growing up in foster care teaches you early that you’re on your own. But tonight, someone stepped in. Someone made my problems disappear.
And the sex... Jesus. I didn’t know my body could do those things, feel those things.
And maybe that’s what scares me most.
The elevator ride down feels like returning from another planet. The casino lights are too bright, the sounds too loud after the quiet luxury of the penthouse. I’ll probably never see Alessio again; we both know this was a one-time deal.
But I’ll be thinking about tonight for a long time.
4
ALESSIO
Seven YearsLater
The bass line thrums through my chest like a second heartbeat.
I’ve been managing this strip club for seven years, and the sound still gets to me. Not in a sentimental way, but in the way that tells me business is good. Tonight’s theme is Leather and Lace, which sounds cheesy as hell but draws crowds like honey draws flies.
This is Vegas. Tacky sells.
On stage, two of my top earners work their magic. The brunette’s wrapped in black leather that makes her look like every man’s fantasy of danger, while the blonde glides around her pole in white lace that screams innocence.
Dark and light. Sin and innocence. It’s Vegas theater at its finest—and complete bullshit, of course.
They’re both trouble, which is exactly the point.
I lean back in my corner booth, nursing an expensive scotch while I survey the club. It’s the same top-shelf stuff I drank when I ran the casino. The first thing I did when I took over this place was upgrade the liquor selection, even though I’m probably the only one here with taste expensive enough to appreciate it.
From here, I can see everything, including the bar where my bartenders are slinging overpriced drinks, the private rooms where the real money gets made, and every jackass who thinks he can cause problems in my club.
Most people assume I run this place because I’m some kind of perverted bastard who gets off on watching half-naked women dance. They’re not entirely wrong. I appreciate the view when the mood strikes, but I don’t sleep with any of my employees. That’s just bad business.
