I had no power to resist here. I walked over. Legs like lead, knees shaking, but I made it to him.
Enzo didn't speak. His gaze started at my face, slid down. Past the cheap sequin necklace, over the club-issued tube dress hugging my chest, waist, hips, down to my heels. Then back up. It felt like being stripped bare.
Though he had stripped me before.
That crappy memory left me with no confidence. I didn't know what to say—anything would amp the awkward. We weren't close, just boss and employee who'd barely met, parted ugly, reunited worse.
Enzo broke the silence first.
"So." His voice drawled lazy. "The designer who left me hooker cash and ran is now dancing in my club."
My face burned. Bastard, bringing that up in front of everyone to humiliate me.
"I didn't..." I tried explaining it wasn't willing, but he cut me off.
"Since you're the new stripper." Enzo sipped whiskey from the table, eyes never leaving me. "Show me what you got."
His tone dripped with hot implication.
I knew he didn't mean dancing.
"Now? Here?" My voice came out dry.
"Now. Here." Enzo echoed, tone flat. "You're the stripper, I'm your client and boss. Service me till I come. Call it interest on that full conversation you owe me."
I froze solid, couldn't move.
Sleeping with Enzo Falcone wasn't a bad memory—hell, if it was just us two left in the world, I'd probably go again.
But we weren't alone.
Everyone watched. Goons blank-faced, club girls heads down but peeking. Even Silvio lurked half-in the door.
Spotlights on me. I didn't want to be their sex show monkey.
I knew what Enzo was doing—payback for that note, my jab at his ego. Now he struck back.
"Can they leave? Boss." I begged, hoping he had some shame.
"You think you can bargain with me?"
Enzo patted his thigh. Twice, not hard, meaning clear.
His face stayed calm, but I sensed a wicked smirk.
I closed my eyes, sucked in a breath, and stiffly sat on his lap.
His thighs were rock-hard—that hit first. Muscle firm even through pants. Heat seeped up, his breath close. I tensed, hands clueless. Finally, right on his chest, left on the sofa back.
Eyes wandered. His face too close, lashes sharp. Elsewhere too obvious. Ended up on his eyes.
Big mistake.
Our stare locked, heart leaped to my throat.
Enzo quirked a brow. "Show me."
"Yes, boss."
