Still, I found the club anyway and eyed the door from the opposite side of the street. Fitting for Hell’s Kitchen, the owners had dubbed itInfernal. The sign was dark, but it looked as though the words glowed with flames when the place was open. Set inside an old, industrial warehouse, it took up half the block. That same strange symbol had been painted onto the single door out front.
Other than that, it was impossible to tell anything about the place. I shifted on my feet and bit my lip. This was probably a terrible idea.
I glanced down the quiet street. Hell’s Kitchen had once been a grungy, crime-infested corner of the city, but the past few decades had transformed it into a bustling, lively, trendy place with popular bars and nightclubs. But this street was as dark and as silent as a tomb, and I swore I felt a pair of eyes on the back of my head. Fear skittered down my spine.
I rolled my eyes at myself. This was ridiculous. All I had to do was walk through that door, put on a good audition, and go back to Brooklyn. By that point, Noah and Serena would have spent several hours alone, and I could crawl onto the couch, cozy into a blanket, and watch Netflix until my eyelids fell shut. Maybe have another few mugs of that shitty wine. Just like I did every night.
Ugh. What a life.
Squaring my shoulders, I strode across the street. My boots clicked on the pavement, the only sound in the strange silence. When I reached the club’s entrance, I tried the handle. Locked. I took a deep breath and pushed the buzzer.
A moment later, the door swung open. A blast of heat slammed me square in the chest as a tall, dark-haired man gave me a single glance. Time seemed to slow. My heart flickered beneath my ribs. This guy washot. Broad chest, chiseled cheekbones, and—he slammed the door in my face too fast for me to see anything else.
I scoffed, my mouth dropping open.
Howrude.
Narrowing my eyes, I knocked again. Immediately, he opened the door, as if he’d known I wouldn’t go away that easily. It was all I could do not to stare at the guy. His sweeping cheekbones cut like glass, and his piercing blue eyes were flecks of ice. A fitted black tee draped across his well-muscled chest, and his snug jeans hung low around his hips, showing off just a hint of his washboard abs.
My heart pounded as I glared up at him. Nice to look at, but stillrude.
“I’m here about the job.” I held up the flyer, grateful that my hand didn’t shake. “It says auditions are tonight.”
He eyed me, a strange expression rippling across his face. “The job is only open to a specific type of dancer. As far as I can tell, that isn’t you.”
His voice was deeper and smoother than I expected, like a big mouthful of melted dark chocolate.
I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of dancer?”
“One you aren’t.” He moved to shut the door again, but I stuck out my boot to stop him.
“How can you tell what kind of dancer I am if you don’t let me audition?” Honestly, I didn’t know why I was fighting so hard for a chance at this job. It wasn’t like I really wanted it. Something about this place didn’t sit right in my gut, and I had no idea what went on behind these closed doors. So, I should take his hesitance—andtotal assholery—as a sign and go home.
The only problem was, I didn’t have a home. Not a real one, at least.
He folded his arms and smiled. “Trust me. I can tell just by looking at you.”
“And I can tell you’re a dick just by looking at you.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Whoops. Probably not thebestway to impress a potential employer. I ground my teeth together as I watched another job lead fall through. At least it meant I wouldn’t have to look into this asshole’s perfectly-sculpted face every day.
His brows winged upward. “I own this place. I can be as much of a dick as I like.”
Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. Of course he owned the place. With a deep breath, I bit back my agitation and swallowed a little pride.
“Look, I’m new to the city, it’s been a rough few months, and I just really wanted the chance at this job. I have over ten years of dance experience. Unless the gig involves parading around topless, I know I would be good at this. Nothing against it, of course, but it’s not for me. The topless thing, I mean. Dancingisfor me. Clothed dancing. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to show my boobs.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I cut myself off before I rambled on about my boobs for another five minutes. Hopefully this guy didn’t think I was trying to flirt. He might look good, but I’d rather sleep on Serena’s couch for the rest of my life than even think about touching him with a ten-foot pole.
“Over ten years?” He regarded me again, and a strange sizzling heat trailed down my spine. I swallowed hard beneath his gaze, my heartbeat flickering like butterfly wings. It almost felt as though he was peeling back the layers of my skin and staring into my soul.
But that was ridiculous.
“I got serious about dance when I was twelve. I’m twenty-three now…although, I haven’t done much dancing recently.”
“College?”
I nodded. “I graduated two years ago.”
“What have you been doing since then?”
