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“You don’t belong here.”

And tonight, I decided that I’m going to show him that he can’t just control where I work and what I do. He doesn’t get a say over my life. I’ve had enough of people controlling me, and I’m not about to let some asshole with a power complex do it again.

Though, I know he’s right. It does send a thrill through me that he wants to keep me away from prying eyes, but it doesn’t change the fact that he said it, and it made me bring my guard up about it.

I’m just going to toy with him tonight.

If he wants me, it’s going to be on my terms. Not his.

“Vix, you’re on in 60 seconds,” the tech calls from his stool. I shoot him a quick thumbs up and peel off my silk robe, revealing my outfit.

I walk up the wooden steps and stand behind the screen, ready to dance again.

All The Time by Jeremiah streams through the speakers, and the crowd grows silent. The curtain opens, revealing Xander. Our eyes lock, and shivers run up my arm, my lips curling into a smirk. A buzz of anticipation runs through me.

For the first time, I’m not losing myself to the sound of the crowd and the music, settling into the role of Vixen. This time, it’s me and Xander, and the music guides my body. He’s cast in shadows, but somehow those bright blue eyes are visible through it. And they’re burning right into me, as if he can brand himself onto me, claim me.

He leans back in his chair and discards his empty whisky glass to the side table as I start to make my walk up to the pole.

Slowly.

Every step I make is deliberate.

This is going to be as painful for him as it was for me hearing him attempt to control my life.

He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt tonight, which is unusual for him. It hugs him perfectly; every single bump of his abdominal muscles peaks through. Tattoos swirl all down his arms, hands, and neck.

My eyes trail down to his jeans, where the outline of a gun pokes through. My breath catches for a moment. He truly looks formidable.

His hand comes to rest on the gun inside his pocket, and I know what that means. It’s a warning, but not to me. It’s a warning for every pair of eyes on me here tonight.

But his threats aren’t going to stop me from what I’m about to do.

These next four minutes are going to be hell for him.

He and I both know he isn’t going to open fire inside his own premises.

I reach the pole, eyes still on Xander. He assesses me, trailing his eyes everywhere at once.

His long fingers tap on the gun.

Once. Twice.

I smile at him, grabbing the pole with both hands, and slide down into a horizontal split, bringing my barely concealed centre to his eyes. It’s a tiny thong, which only he can see. Everyone else in the room sits farther back, not daring to sit anywhere in his vicinity.

Heat rushes straight to my core as he sits up, presses his elbows to his knees, and brings himself closer to me. Those glacier eyes trace a path to my centre, and his tongue comes out, wetting his lips. His entire body is tense, that t-shirt almost ripping at the seams.

He knows what this is.

I whip my head around, my hair brushing against my back as I slowly circle it back towards him. I lean forward, bringing my torso to the floor, closing my legs together, and rolling onto my back. I drag myself back up into a sitting position and spin so I’m on all fours. Swiftly snaking my chest to the floor, I use all the strength in my arms to hold myself up as my legs swing up into a handstand. I arch backwards and clench my legs around the pole, coming up into a fireman spin.

My eyes lock onto his once more as I stand. I trace my hands from my breasts down to my core at the same time as lowering myself into a wide squat. Xander’s eyes darken.

I have a feeling my little show might not last much longer if I keep this up.

But I’m not here to bend to anyone’s wishes or follow anyone's rules.

The tattooed hands on his knees flex, gripping his legs, the skin on his knuckles turning white.