I don’t decideto go to Velvet—my heart decides for me. That’s the only explanation.
After I’ve made sure Dad is settled with his favourite Mexican food and the TV remote, I change into a fitted dress and spend longer than usual in front of the mirror applying my make-up and curling my hair. Then I glance once more at Vivienne’s reply to my text message.
For once, it’s friendly, but I don’t spend too long questioning it because I have other things on my mind.
It’s happening. I’m going to see Fiero.
Another week has passed since Remo paid me a visit, and every day since he walked through the door, I’ve battled the urge to run back to Velvet, and back into Fiero’s arms.
I have to be sure I’m doing the right thing.
My heart is in disrepair and it’shammering.
Nerves climb up my stomach and cling to my throat the closer I get to the club. I park my car in the usual spot and walk across the lot.
When I see Dante at the door, a panicked thought occurs to me. What if Fiero has moved on? The generous deeds have slowed down—no one new has been around since Remo showed. What if I’ve missed my chance?
Dante watches me approach with narrowed eyes, thenbeamswhen he recognizes me. The relief is so immense I could drop to my knees.
“Miss McAllister,” he says, his shoulders twitching. “It’s good to see you.Sogood in fact, I could hug you…” His smile falls. “But I’d probably get shot.”
“Hey Dante.” I smile even though my lower legs are trembling. “It’s good to see you too. Can I go in? Vivienne’s expecting me.”
“Yes she is.” He winks knowingly and steps to one side.
A sense of warm familiarity joins me as I descend the steps to the club. I pause at the bottom and breathe. Here, on the precipice, I can still hope I haven’t left it too late. Once I step through that curtain, there’s no turning back.
I take a deep breath, push back my shoulders and walk through the heavy velvet.
Vivienne is waiting at the podium, just like she said she would. A smile flickers across her face and she beckons me with a blood red fingernail.
I follow her across the lounge, through the doors to the staff area and into the changing room. As soon as the door closes, she releases the longest sigh I’ve ever heard.
“Thank God you’re back.”
I’m taken aback by the relief on her face, but I don’t want to give her false hope. “I’m not ‘back’ Vivienne. I’m just visiting.”
“Whatever.” She waves a hand about. “He’s fucking miserable. And everyone’s paying the price.”
I gasp. I’ve never heard Vivienne swear before. But, despite myself, warmth flickers in my chest.
“Do you still have my old uniform?” I ask her.
“I do…” She hesitates. “But Il Diavolo bought something for you before you left. He had it specially designed. I think, perhaps… if nothing else comes of this evening, at least he’ll get to see you wearing it.”
She lifts a garment bag from one of the lockers and hooks it over a door, then slowly lowers the zip.
My breath catches.
The dress is nothing like the uniforms we wear on the floor.
It's red. The deep, decadent red of expensive wine. The colour of temptation. The colour ofsin.
Black lace curves across the bodice in delicate patterns, cutting away at the waist to reveal bare skin, then disappearing into fitted satin that falls to mid-thigh, while the back…
The back is completely open.
Heat floods my face and I forget I’m standing with someone who’s made no secret of the fact she never wanted me here. “Vivienne…”
