“Not me,” I say, snapping my fingers to get another Old Fashioned on the table stat. I had no idea she could do Ring Girl dances. Hell, I had no idea she could dance like this at all.
My drink arrives and I practically gulp the entire thing like a shot all in one go. I watch her on the stage, all hips and smiles and perfect sync; I can’t decide what I’m feeling. Surprise. Shock. Turned on. Angry. It’s a cocktail of unexpected emotions. But as the song comes to an end, the room erupts in cheers and catcalls. Money rains over Mila, and two of those feelings are for certain–
Arousal. And anger.
Chapter 20
Mila
The drive homefrom the Cockpit is quiet, but I can’t stop smiling. I don’t know what possessed me to jump up there and take Brynn’s place. She basically owns that dance, but I danced like it was all mine, and I don’t regret it.
Dominic, on the other hand, hasn’t said two words about it. That could be a good thing or a bad thing. Considering he hasn’t said two words about anything; I’m thinking it might be the latter.
So, I attempt to lighten the mood a little.
“You fought well tonight,” I say, trying to cut through the tension.
“I fought Fletcher. He’s new and naïve. It was hardly a fight at all,” he spits out.
Alrighty then.
“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good fight,” I say.
Nothing.
“I had fun tonight. Bianca isn’t as bad as I thought she’d be,” I say.
“She’s his flavor of the week. Don’t get attached,” he says.
“Well, I’m not exactly permanent either,” I joke, but Dom isn’t laughing. He’s not even smiling. In fact, the way his mouth looks right now makes it seem like he’s never smiled in his life.
“The mocktails are good,” I add. “I’ve never had one before.”
“Why didn’t you order the real thing?” he asks.
“Because I had a headache,” I tell the same lie I told earlier.
“Right,” he says, his tone obvious that he doesn’t believe it. After that, I decide not to talk anymore. I happen to be in a very good mood, alcohol or not. I also think I did a great job playing the arm candy role. I think the entire evening was a win, even if he doesn’t agree.
After we get to the house, I head to my room, and he heads to his office. Either he’s going to work, or he needs a drink. I don’t really care one way or another. I turn on the lamp by the bed and slip out of my dress, letting it fall to the floor. I grab my satin pajamas and lay them on the bed, then turn to the full-length mirror and take off my jewelry.
My mind is still on that dance, my brain buzzing with the adrenaline of it all. The lights, the cheering, the music, the energy. I haven’t felt like that in years. While the dancing I used to do is nothing like that, it’s still the same feeling. It’s still moving my body in expression and getting lost in it all.
As I relive it all in my head, playing the memory on a loop, I find my hips swaying again, my feet moving in a shorter version of the dance. I look at my body in the mirror as I move, wearingnothing but a strapless black bra and matching black lacy panties. I run my fingertips up over my sides and then through my hair, closing my eyes as I turn around, hips shimmying.
When I open my eyes again, I nearly scream. Dominic is standing right in front of me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.
“I could ask you the same thing!” he growls, his eyes wild with something lethal.
“Why are you in my room?” I snap.
“What possessed you to get on that stage tonight?” he asks.
“Brynn was hurt. I knew the dance and–”
“How did you know the dance?” he cuts in.
