Page 66 of Lovely Venom

“True.” She checks the time with a groan. “I have to go back on in fifteen. You need any help with hair or makeup?”

“I think I’ve got it, but thanks. I’m just going to do a quick touch-up.”

“Easy peasy champagne tease-y.”

“You are such a nerd.” I laugh at her.

“I know.” She does a little kick as she tosses her hair back. “But you love me.”

“Have fun out there,” I tell her. “I’ll see you after?”

“Definitely.” She smiles. “Enjoy your bath.”

14

CHANTEL

The final act of the night is a solo to “Champagne Champagne” by Mandy Lauderdale. This one is all performance and no singing, which is a relief, because I can coast by on autopilot.

I step out onto the stage in a champagne-tinted robe as the music opens, absently pulling the sash loose. The material glides over my shoulders as I walk, slowly slipping from my body to reveal the gold chainmail dress beneath.

Strolling to the bar cart in my strappy heels, I let my fingers dance over the bottles of champagne before I choose one. After I pop the cork, I pour a glass and press a lipstick print against the flute as I make my way downstage.

This song is a sultry little jazz number, and it’s all about measured steps, the buildup of anticipation, and lingering eye contact. But as I walk down the stairs into the audience, every man I glance at averts his gaze—except for one.

I find myself moving toward him, as if he’s reeling me in like a magnet. He’s cold and composed, but fire flickers in the depths of his eyes when they slide over me.

As he sits there, reclined against the booth like he owns it, an inexplicable sense of déjà vu pulses between us. I can’t make sense of it, but there’s something else I can’t forget.

Tiffany’s declaration backstage echoes through my mind, snapping me out of my haze. At the last minute, I pivot on my heel and redirect myself.

I’m taking my life into my own hands when I head for the VIP table where Ares and his men are seated.

Ares never comes here, so there must be a reason for his presence, and I need to seize the opportunity while I have it. It’s part of the show to interact with the audience during this song, and tonight I happen to have a convenient target.

Stepping between him and one of his guards, I lean in without breaking character and whisper in his ear.

“Have there been any arrivals I should know about?”

His gaze shifts to Cristian, and a smile tugs at his lips before he fixes his attention on me.

“Nothing on my watch.”

I nod, and so it doesn’t look like I’m singling him out, I turn to face his guard Elias. Passing him the champagne flute in my hand, I blow him a kiss and drift back into the crowd.

Ares’ assurance makes me feel slightly better about the stalker situation, because there’s nothing that goes on in this city that man isn’t aware of. If my past had come calling, he would know.

In keeping with the performance, I stop by a few more groups, dragging my fingers over the tablecloths, tapping to the beat of the music, and even lighting one man’s cigar.

When I return to the stage, I take a slow, deliberate walk to the elevated champagne glass, stopping at the bottom of the platform.

With a glance over my shoulder, I reach up and tug the strings around my neck. The gold dress cascades over my body and pools around my heels.

As I begin my ascent up the stairs to the platform, I pause for dramatic effect to strip off my corset, followed by the opera gloves. When I’m finished, all that’s left is my chain bra and a pair of very cheeky champagne shorts.

My back is bared to the audience save for one tiny metal chain, and I’m not sure if it’s the chill in the air or a certain gaze that makes me shiver.

When I reach the top of the platform, four ladies in waiting dance to a slow rhythm, champagne bottles at the ready. I step into the bath that’s already half full of bubbles, and ease my way into the oversized champagne glass.