Chapter 2
Kinsley
The night started out like any other, the fact that it was New Year's barely registering as I slipped into the standard Micere attire. When I’d first started dancing, the tight corset and sleek stockings had been an adjustment, to say the least. The first night in heels had left my ankles aching and my feet raw. These days, I was a little more comfortable in my uniform and wore the body glitter like a second skin.
I stepped out on stage that night, squinting in the flashing lights like so many nights before. The rhythm was slow, the beat steady and pulsing, and the movements came easily. It was a well-practiced routine, a carefully choreographed series of steps that commanded attention.
I scanned the crowd out of habit, eyes gliding over the usual mix of patrons – the drunk and wealthy, the standard clubbers, and the occasional sharply dressed elite sprinkled in for good measure. Their gazes were predictable, hungry and glazed over, raking over every arch as I bent my body for their entertainment. It was part of the job. You had to demand that attention, hold it, and then release it when the time was right. And I was very good at my job.
But that night, there was one set of eyes that stood out from the rest.
I saw her near the sofas first, felt her eyes on me, but I didn’t let on that I’d noticed. I simply moved, body flowing in time with the music, eyes half-lidded as I relayed the usual seductive dance. But as the night wore on, she proved impossible to ignore.
The woman was striking, beautiful. Dark hair framed her face, darker eyes sharp and watchful beneath an air of calm detachment. But it was the way she looked at me that set her apart. Where most people watched with barely concealed lust or with the overzealous assurance that only alcohol can grant, this woman’s gaze was different. Her eyes traveled over my swaying body with interest, sure, but there was something more, something that made the attention feel less like a predatory stare and more like appreciation.
When I caught her watching from the bar, I allowed myself a little extra flair. If this woman wanted to watch, then I would give her something worth looking at. I was no stranger to drawing attention, but there was a thrill in knowing I had this stranger entirely focused on me, that my movements alone were magnetizing. It was rare to find someone whose eyes saw more than the surface-level appeal, but this woman seemed to understand the art of it, the intention behind every move.
By the time my set was over, the woman had backed away with a parting toast to our little game of seduction. She slipped from my mind as quickly as my mood plummeted when I felt a hand snake around my waist. One of the usuals, a guy with a few too many drinks in him.
“Hey, sweetheart. How about a little more of that in private?”
I hated that part of the job. The way some spectators felt entitled to touch me, as if the performance on stage was an invitation. I was deliberating jamming my heel on his foot when she showed up again.
“I’m here for the private session I booked.” A coy smile and a stack of cash in my hand. “I believe we’re late.”
The woman cut in with the calm confidence of someone who knew they had the upper hand. I expected some fight from the guy, inebriated as he was, but he only mumbled something incoherent before stumbling away into the crowd. I couldn’t help but be impressed.
She wanted a private session, and considering the act of heroism, I was inclined to oblige.
The private rooms were a quieter space, tucked away from the main floor of the club, the soft thrum of music muted but still present. It was intimate, with plush seats and low lighting that cast everything in a warm, golden glow. I beckoned the woman in and closed the door behind us, and despite the countless hours I’d spent dancing for private clients in there, my heart was in my throat.
“So,” I fought to keep my voice low and sultry, giddy despite myself, “did you decide on a private dance before or after you saw me getting manhandled?”
The woman leaned back against the door, arms crossed. “It seemed like the quickest way to get you out of an uncomfortable situation.”
“Very chivalrous of you.” I gestured at the curved sofa and the woman tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she moved to sit down.
The intensity of her gaze hadn’t diminished, and I could feel it prickling on my neck as I turned my back to her.
“Hunter, by the way,” the woman said as I turned up the music. “That’s my name.”
It fit her well – sharp lethality, controlled restraint.
“Kinsley,” I replied, starting up a slow, fluid movement as I glimpsed her over my shoulder. “Nice to meet you.”
Her eyes darkened as my body aligned with the beat, swaying in time to the soft music. It was different from dancing on stage. In the private rooms there were no spotlights, no barriers separating the dancer from her audience.
My mind was churning, despite the sensual energy in the small space. Every movement was designed to elicit a reaction, to push just enough without tipping over into something ‘unprofessional’. The goal was to control the tension and keep it balanced on a knife’s edge, all the while keeping my composure intact.
And I wasn’t the only one walking the tightrope. I could see it in the way her breath hitched ever so slightly, the way her eyes lingered on every curve. But to her credit, my mysterious new client kept her cool, respectfully composed and in control. It was a rare thing for someone to hold onto their control in a room like that.
I admired it. But then again, I also enjoyed watching her restraint slipping, little by little, with each sensual act.
She leaned back on the sofa, propping her elbows up on the backrest, and I took in her attire. She wasn’t dressed for a night on the town – suit pants and crisp button-up, pointed heels unscuffed and glossy. A businesswoman, maybe? Shady or otherwise.
“So, what brings you to Micere on a night like this?” I asked, voice soft as I turned slowly, letting my body unfold before her. The question was casual, but my mind was always working, always piecing things together. I liked to understand my clients. Especially the interesting ones.
“Business,” Hunter replied, tone steady. But her eyes were anything but casual as they followed the curve of my spine. “But I got… distracted.”
I smiled at that, letting the words hang in the air as my hands traveled down my body.
When the tension surrounding her ramped up to fiery degrees I moved closer, stalking slow, sensual steps before sliding to my knees, splaying stockinged thighs out before her. I heard her slow intake of breath, and imagined the groan that could follow if I offered more.
When her eyes met mine again I smiled, sidling a hand down my stomach. “I hope it was a worthwhile distraction.”
“You could say that,” she replied, her voice low, her lips curling into a seductive smile of her own as she tilted her head to the side. “You’re rather hard to resist.”
I let out a soft laugh as my fingers grazed the floor, tracing invisible lines of tension that seemed to pull her in closer as she sat up straighter in her seat. “So it would seem.”
I tilted my body forward, stalking on hands and knees towards her. “I must admit, it’s not often that I’ve performed for someone like you.”
Those sharp eyes narrowed slightly, but her flirtatious smirk stayed in place. “Someone like me?”
I edged closer and climbed the sofa, carefully avoiding contact as I hovered over her. We were eye-to-eye, close enough to share the same breath. “Yeah. The cool, mysterious type. Always watching from the shadows, like you’re deciding whether to get involved or not.”
She raised an eyebrow, then closed her eyes as loose strands of my hair brushed her cheek. I watched her inhale softly, lips parted in near-euphoric bliss. “Sounds like you’ve got me all figured out.”
“It’s my job to understand my clients.”
“And what about you?” Her voice dropped to a near whisper as I arched over her, her lips hovering just below my ear. “What exactly is a woman like you doing in a place like this?”
I felt the heat between us skyrocket, the challenge in her words stoking something in me that was best kept buried. My breath hitched for just a second, but I refused to falter. I held her gaze for a moment before pulling back, turning again to resume my dance.
“Business,” I replied smoothly, mirroring her earlier answer as I bent away from her again. “You don’t work your way up to Micere for the quick cash alone. I’m here to make connections.”
That earned me another raised brow and a curious quirk of her lips. “Oh? What kind of connections?”
The kind that gives me the answers I’m looking for.
But, of course, I couldn’t tell her that. Instead, I shrugged, working it into the routine, and folded into a backbend that served as a satisfying distraction. When my feet traveled over my body and touched the floor again I came up to see her eyeing me with renewed enthusiasm.
“How long have you been dancing?”
I straightened up and moved around her, fingers trailing lightly along the back of the sofa as I circled her. “Not long.”
“That’s hard to believe.” Her eyes followed my every step, head tilted slightly to track my movements.
“It’s the truth.”
She seemed satisfied with my answer, laughing to herself as she leaned back in her seat.
We were orbiting each other, prying at the layers beneath the surface, but content to leave some things unsaid.
When the dance drew to a close, I felt the energy in the room shift. I had pushed as far as I could without stepping over the line, and the look in Hunter’s eyes told me that the tension had done its job. When she got to her feet her posture was relaxed, but she drew in her bottom lip as her eyes moved over me one last time, studying me from head to toe.
“When are you dancing next?” Her voice was rough, low and exhilarating, and I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks. That was a rarity in this line of work, but she had made me feel seen, not just watched.
“Monday night.” I gave her a smile, twirling with exaggerated flair as I moved to open the door. “But I’d be happy to dance for you again whenever you want.”
Above us, the thumping music gave way to a cacophony of voices, counting down to the dawn of the new year.
The corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk and she joined me in the doorway, a hair’s breadth of distance between us. I had always considered myself fairly tall, but I still had to tilt my chin up to meet her eyes. She didn’t so much as touch me, but she didn’t have to. That smoldering stare was enough.
“I look forward to it.”
And just like that she was slipping past me, disappearing up the stairway and taking the last of my breath with her. As the booming music began anew, all I could do was stare after her, heart beating a little faster than before.
I had danced for hundreds of people, entertained countless faces, but something about that woman lingered in my thoughts long after she was gone.
The trip back to my apartment was quiet, the sounds of the city muffled by the rumble of the cab and the garbled static of the radio. My home was nothing fancy, but it was mine. The place was a refuge from the new life I led on the outside.
I dropped my bag on the couch and headed straight for the bathroom, peeling off skimpy layers as I went. A bubble bath, one of my few indulgences, was certainly in order, especially after that particular shift. The silky water lifted the glitter from my skin and made the bubbles sparkle, and I sank down into the tub with a long exhale.
My muscles slowly remembered relaxation, but my mind was drifting back to the club. Back to her.
Hunter.
There was something about that woman. It was like she’d burrowed her way under my skin and refused to leave, despite never having touched me. I replayed the dance in my head, how those dark, intense eyes had tracked my every movement, never breaking that cool demeanor even as the tension thickened like smoke.
I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut, and goaded myself for being such a touch-starved dolt. She was just another spectator, even if she had been more respectful than most. There was no need to get worked up over nothing more than a well-paying client with a pretty face. And God, she was pretty.
Even so, my hand drifted to my stomach, trailing absently downwards before I caught myself. My body was practically screaming for it, but there was too much on my mind. Too much that mattered more.
As if on cue, my phone rang and my guilty conscience reared its head.
My eyes snapped open, heart clenching and bubbles sloshing as I scrambled to grab the phone from the floor. I lifted it with soapy fingers, gripping the edge of the tub like a vice.
“Ethan?!” It came out more desperate than I intended. “Do you have news? Anything?”
There was a prolonged pause on the other end, and my heart sank before he even said a word. Eventually, Ethan’s sigh came through the line, heavy and apologetic.
“I’m sorry, K,” he said, his voice achingly gentle. “Nothing yet. I’ve asked around, called in every favor I could, but no one’s seen her.”
I sank further into the water, body going limp as his words settled over me. No news. No sign of Penelope.
My voice barely rose above a whisper. “It’s all right. Thanks for trying.”
Ethan was doing everything he could, I knew that. But it didn’t make the ache in my chest any easier to bear.
“I’ll keep looking.” His voice crackled through the line. “We’ll find her. One way or another.”
After a brief goodbye I hung up, letting the phone slip from my hand. It landed with a dull thud on the bath mat and I lay back in the water, staring up at the ceiling in tumultuous silence.
My mind staggered back to Penelope, to the image of the woman I hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. The memories came in bright flashes, like an interrogation under a single spotlight. Could I remember her laugh, her smile, the way she moved through life like it was some elaborate dream? Had I forgotten that Penelope was gone? Just… gone.
I balled my fists under the water, nails digging crescent moons into my palms. I had a mission. I couldn’t afford distractions, especially not the kind that came with a seductive smile and devious intent. Penelope was out there somewhere, and she needed me to find her.
No matter the cost.