I’ve already decided to beef up security here. The Bratva has a history of hitting our legitimate businesses, and the staff’s going to notice the changes.
“There’s going to be increased security for a while,” I tell them. “More bouncers on every shift, overtime pay doubled. I’ll have extra men around too, but they won’t bother you.”
“Why?” Katrina asks. I can see the worry on everyone’s faces.
“Just a precaution.”
“But why?” one of the other strippers presses. She’s standing next to Nina, who I’m very deliberately not looking at.
“There’s been some crime in the area. I want to make sure you’re all safe.”
I’m not sure they buy it, but when I dismiss them, everyone scatters to get ready. Everyone except Nina.
She steps into my path as I head for the office, biting her bottom lip in a way that sends an unwelcome surge of heat through me. This is the worst possible time to be thinking about how that mouth would feel.
“Alessio, what’s really going on? What’s the threat?”
“I told everyone already. It’s just a precaution.”
“Really? You seem worried.”
I scoff, the sound harsh. “You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart. And you don’t need to. Go get ready, the club opens soon. We don’t have anything to talk about.”
She looks like I slapped her. Guilt twists through me as she disappears into the dressing room, but it’s better this way. Better she hates me than tempts me into wanting more.
Wanting her is weakness. And weakness has no place in my world.
So why the hell can’t I stop?
11
NINA
How canthat asshole be my sweet son’s father?
I’m pissed as I slip into my outfit for the stage. Red lace hugs my curves, paired with black heels that pinch my toes but make my legs look killer. In the mirror, I look like sex on stilts. I need that confidence right now after dealing with Alessio’s attitude.
He’s been nothing but rude to me since I started working here. I can’t figure out what I’ve done to make him dislike me so much. Is it because I mentioned we slept together? But that doesn’t make sense if he doesn’t even remember it.
I go heavy with the makeup tonight. Yesterday I played it too safe, too reserved compared to the other girls. If I want maximum tips, I need to look the part.
I’m the second act, and when I step onto the stage, I plant a flirtatious smile on my face. This time, I make eye contact with the men closest to the stage instead of staring at the ceiling like some amateur. Connection equals cash.
I’m strutting toward the pole when my gaze lifts and lands on Alessio at the bar. Again. His eyes are locked on me, and my stomach does an annoying little flip.
Look away, Nina. Focus on the customers who’ll actually tip you.
But as I spin around the pole, my traitorous eyes keep drifting back to him. He’s watching me with an intensity that makes my skin burn, none of his usual cold indifference anywhere to be found.
His jaw is tight, his knuckles white where he grips his drink.
For a second I almost believe he remembers. The heat in his stare makes my body respond in ways I don’t want it to, and it pisses me off.
Everything fades except the pole in my hands, the music pounding through the speakers, and Alessio’s heated stare.
The dance turns electric, sensual in a way that has nothing to do with the routine I practiced and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me. My body betrays me, responding to his attention like I’m still that desperate woman from seven years ago. I should be furious, but instead I’m wet and aching and completely pissed off about it.
By the time the song ends, I’m topless and rattled. I scoop up my tips and bolt for the dressing room.
