My stomach tightened.
Then I did something I tried to never do.
I sang to just him.
The world narrowed to just the two of us for three minutes, save for the quick second he called on the game he was playing. But even then, he kept his gaze on me, just flicking coins into the pot without looking.
When the final note ended, our gazes finally broke.
I lost his focus.
But the impact of it lingered, leaving me fluttering and pulsing as I finished my set.
I could hear Archie losing control of his fingers by the last song and was glad it was almost over so he could get a break.
“Monroe, don’t rush off,” Frank said, even as Archie did just that, giving me an apologetic wince.
But it wasn’t like he could defend me anyway if something did happen.
“Come here and say hello,” Frank demanded.
I exhaled hard through my nose and made my way to the table, choosing to stand near Milo, which unfortunately put me right next to Frank as well. But at least I was away from his one ass-grabby friend.
“Monroe, can I get you a drink?” the ass-grabber asked.
“Our Monroe here doesn’t drink.”
That wasn’t true. But I let Frank believe it because I never wanted to consume anything that would let my guard down around him.
“That’s one hell of a voice you have,” one of Frank’s new friends said.
My gut said he wasn’t one of the bad ones. He wasn’t raking his gaze over me. He genuinely seemed a fan of my performance, not my looks.
“Hell of a body too,” one of the others piped in.
If I wasn’t looking, I might have missed the way Milo’s fingers tightened on his glass. It was such a small movement. It might not even have had anything to do with the comment. Or me. But, God, it was hot if it did.
“We’re lucky I persuaded her to perform for us tonight,” Frank said, puffing up as he reached to snake an arm around my hips, grazing my ass in the process.
I forced myself not to stiffen.
I plastered on a smile that ached.
But the new guy, the one who liked my voice, his eyes narrowed.
“Speaking of. Didn’t you do several sets earlier?”
“I did.”
“Shouldn’t you be off resting your voice now?”
It was a question, but it was clearly also an offer of an exit for me. Without my being rude.
“You’re right,” I agreed, pulling away from Frank. “I don’t want my next guests to be disappointed if I’m all raspy. It was a pleasure singing for you all tonight,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest.
“A pleasure,” Mr. Mustache said, holding out a hand.
I had to take it.
