Chapter 21 #2
“I want you to know, Brooklyn,” I growl, “that I have at times done things for money that make dancing to get men to part with their money look like puppy sitting. There is no judgment here.”
She swallows again, nodding.
“ Yeah ,” she says. “Lap dances. But, I mean, not often?—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” I say gently. I take a slow, deep breath, bracing myself for an answer I don’t want to hear. “Anything else?”
She frowns. “Well, serving drinks.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her eyes snap open, her jaw dropping as she stares at me. “What?! You mean, like…like prostitution ?” She blinks quickly. “ No !”
“I mean anything else that sometimes happens in the shadier corners of strip clubs that you may have had to do to survive.”
She shakes her head, her hands tightening on mine. “ No ,” she croaks again. “Nothing like that.”
Thank fuck .
“That man that I…” I clear my throat. “ Dealt with tonight.” I look deep in her eyes. “Has he ever done that before? Forced himself on you?”
She winces. “He...” She takes a shaky breath. “Not like that. He’s…touched me before.”
She shudders and looks away. Good. Otherwise, she’d see the murderous look on my face.
“Has anyone else at the club hurt you?”
Her mouth purses. “Yeah, the doorman, Zak. But,” she shrugs, “someone recently?—”
“Beat him to a bloody fucking pulp in the men's room?”
Her head snaps around, her eyes finding mine and widening.
“How do you—” Her mouth forms an O shape. “ You ?” she gasps.
My jaw tightens. “ Nobody fucks with you,” I growl tensely. “Ever.”
A huge grin spreads over her face, her hands tightening in mine.
“I…” She blushes and looks down before she drags her eyes back to mine. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
I smile. “I want to kiss you, too. But if I do, it won’t stop at kissing.”
Her face heats. “And that’s a bad thing?”
My smile turns hungry. “No. But after something like earlier…” I shake my head. “You’re still in shock. Even if you don’t think you are, trust me, you are .”
She nods, raking her teeth over her bottom lip.
“Next question. Where’s all your money going, Brooklyn. You must take home a ton of cash from that place.”
Her shoulders collapse. “It’s…complicated.”
“I’ll decide that.”
She smiles a little, lifting her eyes to mine. “It’s my stepdad, Derrick.” She sighs. “He’s in prison awaiting trial for grand larceny. I know he's innocent.”
I frown. “He's in prison awaiting trial?”
She blows air through her lips. “He’s got tons of priors.
” She shakes her head. “Look, he screwed up in the past. Like, a lot. But after Mom died, he was the only family I had, and he really tried with me. I mean, he wasn’t a world-class parent, but he gave it his all until the system finally took me. ”
I frown. “The foster care system?”
She nods.
Fuck me. She’s never gotten a break, ever.
“So… You’re paying his legal bills.”
She exhales slowly. “ Yeah .”
Not anymore, she’s not. But we’ll get there, slowly.
Brooklyn is clearly not one for handouts or even mentioning her troubles to people.
She’s got a large, close-knit group of dancer friends at the Zakharova, and she’s been living out of her car for a fucking year instead of swallowing her pride and asking any of them if she could crash on their couch.
I’m going to guess not one of them knows about The Mirage, either. It's probably why she was working way the fuck out in Greenpoint instead of in Manhattan.
She didn’t want anyone to know.
Brooklyn glances at me. “Was that it for questions?”
My head slowly shakes. “Just one more.”
I take her hands in mine, lifting them to my lips and kissing her knuckles softly as my gaze locks with hers. I know this last one will be painful.
“Who hurts you?” I murmur. “Not those fuckers at the club, there’s someone else. Who is it .”
There’s zero hesitation. Her face darkens and her mouth pulls to a cold line.
“ James ,” she blurts venomously. “He…” She grits her teeth. “We used to date.”
I resist the urge to get up and punch the fucking wall. Barely.
“He’s…not a nice guy,” she says quietly. “At all.”
I scowl. “You’re broken up?”
Her eyes snap to mine. “Of course.”
“And the motherfucker still hurts you?”
She glances down. “Any chance he can.”
Yeah, that’ll be another thing that stops right the fuck now. I start to picture all the ways I’ll slowly and methodically maim, torture, and kill the little fuck—for touching her, and having her , obviously, but even more, for daring to hurt her.
To hurt what’s mine now.
Brooklyn sighs a little, and I can tell she’s done.
So am I. For now .
“Are there any more questions?”
I shake my head. “No, babygirl, that's it.”
Brooklyn’s eyes drop as she looks to the floor, her fingers twisting together as her teeth work over her lower lip.
“ You must think I’m disgusting ,” she whispers quietly, her voice so fucking brittle and breakable. “The sinful things I’ve done…”
My head slowly shakes side to side as I cup her jaw, lifting her eyes to mine. “You think I’m a saint?”
Her lips twist. “No.”
“What do you think I am?”
She swallows.
“Tell me,” I growl quietly
She smiles wryly. “Better the devil you know, right?”
“You’ve known too many devils,” I murmur darkly. “But now you’ll just know one. ” She trembles as my thumb strokes across her jawline, my eyes piercing into hers. “ I’m your devil now, little sinner. I’m your only devil, and you’re my only sin.”
She blushes as her eyes hold mine. “So… Now what?” she says shyly.
“ Now ,” I growl, “I can do this.”
And then I grab her face in my hands, lean in, and crush my mouth to hers in a punishing, conquering kiss.