Chapter 15 Nina
NINA
Instant regret hits me the second the words leave my mouth.
I never wanted Alessio to know that my son exists. Our son.
But here I am, handing him that information like some kind of amateur who can’t keep her mouth shut when it matters most.
Not that I’ll ever tell him the truth about who Austin’s father really is. I already made that decision, and nothing about this conversation is changing my mind. Austin is better off without a father whose world involves the kind of violence I witnessed the other night.
“You have a child?” Something shifts in Alessio’s expression, but I can’t read it.
“Yes. With my ex-husband.”
The lie tastes bitter, but I swallow it anyway. If it keeps Alessio from looking too closely, I’ll choke on it as many times as I have to.
I can’t let him suspect the truth. Austin is the most precious thing in my world, and I’ll protect him at any cost. Even if it means lying straight to Alessio’s face.
Alessio finishes his drink and waves off the bartender when she approaches. The silence stretches between us like a taut wire.
“Why this job?” he asks finally.
His fingers drum against the bar, and I find myself watching the movement. Strong hands. I remember those hands on my skin, and heat creeps up my neck.
I blink at him. “I already told you. I need the money.”
“There are other jobs. Why not find something that pays better than waitressing without being so...”
“Controversial?” I supply when he trails off.
“People will judge you for this. Make your life harder. So why not try something else?”
He leans closer as he speaks, close enough that I catch his scent. Something expensive and masculine that makes my pulse quicken despite my annoyance. I force myself to lean back, putting distance between us.
“Like what? I don’t have a college degree. Factory work?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Twelve-hour shifts of manual labor, probably nights and weekends. I’d never see my kid, which defeats the whole purpose of making money to take care of him.”
The memory of one particular foster placement surfaces, and my voice hardens.
“I had a foster dad who worked at a car plant. Mandatory overtime meant we wouldn’t see him for days.
He’d leave before we woke up and come home after we went to bed.
Of course, in his case, that was a blessing because he was a complete bastard.
But I don’t want that life for me and my son. ”
“It’s a boy?”
Shit. I’m giving him too much information, painting a picture of Austin that I never intended to share. My heart hammers against my ribs as I scramble to backtrack.
“Yes,” I say carefully. “I have a little boy.”
“What’s his name?”
“What is this, an interrogation? Are you going to ask for his social security number next?” The sharpness in my voice surprises even me, but I feel trapped. Every question about Austin makes my stomach clench.
Alessio’s eyebrows draw together. “Just making conversation, Temptress.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He smirks, and I hate that the expression does things to my pulse that I don’t want to acknowledge. I can’t figure this man out. One minute he’s treating me like I don’t exist, the next he’s buying me drinks and asking personal questions.
I have no idea what game he’s playing, and I’m starting to suspect he doesn’t know either.
“You picked that name yourself,” he points out.
I sigh, already regretting that impulsive choice. “Don’t read too much into it.”
“You know, I can’t tell if you’re being deliberately mysterious or if you’re just that guarded.”
I drain the rest of my soda and set the glass down harder than necessary. “Why would I waste energy being mysterious?”
He shrugs. “Part of the mystery is figuring out what motivates you.”
“Money motivates me. Simple as that.”
Something cold flickers across his face. “Right. Because of the kid. And your ex-husband.” His voice hardens. “The one who left you to handle his mess. Tell me he’s not still causing problems for both of you.”
There’s something dangerous in his tone now, like he’s already deciding what to do if the answer is yes.
The mention of Eric makes every muscle in my body lock up.
I know I brought him up first, but hearing Alessio say his name so casually sends anxiety shooting through my veins like ice water.
Eric is a topic I don’t discuss. Ever. Even Keshia knows better than to ask, though she doesn’t know the full story of why he’s completely off-limits.
“I should get back to work.” I stand up before he can ask another question. I need to get back on stage in thirty minutes, but if I find someone now, I can squeeze in a lap dance first. Make some actual money instead of sitting here letting my boss pry into my personal life.
“But we’re just getting to know each other.”
The panic pressing in on me makes my voice come out harsher than I intend. “Why the hell are you suddenly so interested in getting to know me?”
His jaw ticks. He stares at his glass for a long moment, like he’s debating whether to answer honestly.
“Because I can’t seem to stop myself.” His voice turns rough, almost angry.
“I’ve always been interested. That’s the fucking problem.
” He shakes his head like he’s disgusted with himself.
“This was stupid. Just go back to work.”
The whiplash from his sudden interest to cold dismissal stings more than it should. I don’t know why I care what this moody, confusing man thinks of me, but apparently I do.
I leave him at the bar and prowl through the club looking for potential customers. The crowd is thin tonight, though, and I’ve already wasted too much time talking when I should have been working. By the time I need to get ready for my next set, I haven’t managed to book a single private dance.
When I glance back at the bar, Alessio is still there, staring into his empty glass like he’s forgotten I exist.
I change into a sparkly thong and matching bra for my second performance of the night.
This routine involves more actual dancing and less stripping, but the men go wild when I work the pole in barely anything.
I scan the crowd automatically, looking for Alessio, but his spot at the bar is empty now.
The stage feels different without his eyes on me. Smaller somehow, like I’ve lost something I didn’t realize I wanted.
After I collect my tips and head back to the dressing room, I’m already mentally planning my next move. I spotted a group of new customers during my dance, and hopefully one of them will be interested in a private session. I stuff my money into my duffle bag and head back toward the main floor.
“Nina.” Alessio’s voice cuts through the hallway noise as I pass his office. “Come in here.”
I consider pretending I didn’t hear him, but the door is wide open and he’s looking directly at me. He’s my boss, which means I don’t really have a choice.
“What now?” I don’t bother hiding my irritation.
He holds out a stack of cash. “I want to give you this.”
I stare at the money instead of taking it. “What the hell is that for?”
“I monopolized your time at the bar. You didn’t get a chance to earn what you needed tonight.”
My brain takes a second to process what he’s saying. “You want to pay me for a lap dance?”
Heat flashes in his amber eyes, and I feel an answering warmth spread through my body. The thought of grinding against some stranger’s lap feels like a chore I have to endure, but if it were Alessio underneath me...
That would be an entirely different kind of experience.
“I want to pay you for the time I cost you,” he says.
“No.” I take a step back, but Alessio moves faster than I expect. He circles around me and closes the office door before I can escape. “I don’t want your charity.”
He grabs my wrist and tries to press the money into my palm, but I refuse to close my fingers around it. The bills flutter to the floor.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” Alessio shifts his grip to my upper arms, his hands hot against my bare skin. He pulls me against him, and suddenly we’re close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes.
“I’m not being stubborn.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. I’ve always been stubborn. If Alessio doesn’t like my attitude, that’s his problem.
“Think about your son,” he says, his voice dropping low. “You said you need the money to take care of him.”
“My son is none of your business.”
Alessio tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs just enough to tilt my head back. His face hovers inches from mine, and his breath is warm against my skin.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he mutters. “Why can’t you just let me help you?”
“I tried that once. It came with a price.”
“You didn’t seem to mind paying it.”
I can feel his erection pressing against my stomach, hard and insistent. The contact sends electricity shooting through my nervous system, and I have to bite back a gasp.
“I... I...”
I can’t find words to deny what he’s saying. Not when my body is responding to his touch like I’ve been waiting for it. Not when I’m remembering how good it felt to be underneath him that night seven years ago.
“Nothing to say, Temptress?” His voice drops to that rough, dangerous register that makes my knees weak. “Can’t deny what you’re feeling?”
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Denying what you feel?”
The question seems to catch him off guard. For a moment, something vulnerable flickers across his face, and I wonder if anyone else has ever had the nerve to call him out.
“Not very successfully,” he admits.
There it is. A glimpse of something real beneath all the walls he’s put up since I started working here. In this moment, I can see that he’s been fighting this attraction just as hard as I have.
Something shifts in his expression, a decision being made. His grip on my hair tightens.
“Fuck it,” he growls.
Then his mouth crashes down on mine, and the world disappears in a rush of heat and want and the taste of expensive scotch on his lips.