Chapter 8 #2
“Well, I did. After I heard of my husband’s disappearance, I had two choices: stay in Italy and be married off again to whomever my papa chose for me or run like the fucking wind and make a life of my own.”
His eyes gleam with mischief. “I knew you were on the run when I interviewed you yesterday.”
Sighing heavily, I glance out the window again. I knew he wouldn’t understand. I was just hoping I could talk to someone, anyone. I have been so torn up since I took off with the guilt of leaving my family behind. But they did this to me, and now it’s time I stick up for myself.
His hand comes to my thigh, and he gently strokes my bare skin. “You did the right thing,” he says softly.
I glance back at him, my stomach twisting. He cares. “I hope so.”
“Choosing yourself is always the right thing. If this doesn’t work out, you will find something else. You have my sister on your side. She’s one of those ride-or-die kind of chicks, and once you’re in her circle, she will take care of you for life.”
I offer a half smile, not sure what else to say. I kind of knew it, that’s why I came to Ravens Hollow to find her.
He pulls into the parking lot of The Raven’s Nest and is around to my side of the car before I even have a chance to get out.
He opens the door for me and smiles in a way that I know would normally make girls’ panties drop.
Too bad this sexy bastard is off limits for me.
I could do with a fun fling to rid me of my shitty past.
Even though I know I probably shouldn’t, I take his outstretched hand and walk with him to the back door. He swipes us in. “I’ll get you a replacement coffee; there must not be much left in that.” He motions to the to-go cup I’m still holding.
“I’m okay. Thanks for the lift,” I say quickly and then head in the opposite direction, taking off for the VIP lounge.
“Hey, wait up, you will need me to swipe you in.” He catches up with me and swipes us through to the main VIP lounge.
“Okay, thanks, I’ve got this now,” I say when it looks like he’s going to follow me straight to the backstage dressing rooms. I keep walking but can feel him right behind me.
What is he doing? I ignore him and move into the dressing rooms Paige showed me through yesterday.
This is where all the dancers get ready and also where we can leave our stuff for our shifts and take breaks when we need them.
Most of the other girls won’t be in until much later because they work the night shift, but she asked me and the other two new girls to be here earlier today so we can practice on the main stages before clients get in.
And it looks as though I’m the first one here, as the room is completely empty.
The room’s thick scent of perfume and fake tan brings back memories of my childhood dance concerts.
My ma’s proud smile as she touched up my make-up and told me to break a leg.
It’s comforting in a way I never expected.
I guess I miss her more than I realized I would.
I go to the locker space I was shown yesterday, my face scrunching up in confusion.
Why does it now have the label, Princess?
All done up in sequins and fake diamonds.
“Do you like it?” I turn around quickly at the sound of Asher’s voice. Is this why he followed me down here, to see if I like his craft?
“Did you do this?” I motion to the name tag.
“Depends on if you like it or not?” He steps into the room, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his suit pants.
“My name isn’t Princess.” It’s then I remember he called me that a few times before.
“In here it is. The girls don’t go by their real names. We pick stage names for them; it’s part of our protection policy.”
“And why do I get Princess?”
He looks me up and down like that should say it all. “Some names just fit.”
“Daisy isn’t my real name, can’t I just go with that?”
“Nope.”
My face scrunches up again, not sure I like his stage name for me. I’m not sure if he’s making fun of me because he thinks I’m stuck up or something.
“The girls have sorted you some costumes as well. You can try them on this morning to see if you need any alterations.”
Opening my locker, I find a lineup of sparkly costumes all hanging in there.
I pick one up; it’s nothing more than a glittery bra and thong, and I know it’s going to leave nothing to the imagination.
I go all hot and clammy imagining myself dancing in front of a room full of people.
Maybe Cruz was right. I’m not sure I’m up for this.
On the shelf above is a bunch of tiaras all lined up as well.
Asher leans into the locker beside me. “What do you think?”
“Umm.” I collect one of the tiaras and study it. “This is a bit much.”
He takes it from me and places it on my head. Then he grabs my hand and moves over to a mirror, smiling at me like a Cheshire cat. “The perfect little princess. Men are going to go crazy for you in this.”
I blink back at myself, not so sure I agree with him. My long dark hair hangs down my back in a low ponytail, and my make-up is minimal. “I don’t look the part,” I whisper, feeling overwhelmed suddenly.
“Sue, our make-up artist, will do you up. If you want to look more inconspicuous, she can even make you look like someone completely different. She’s clever like that, just ask the other girls.
We have wigs and just about anything else you could possibly need.
Some of the girls here you would never recognize if you saw them walking down the street.
Some find it easier to dance as a character, that way they can disassociate from who they are the rest of the time. ”
I nod, thinking that makes sense. “Why do you think I can do this even though I have no experience?” I ask him, needing someone to believe in me, because right now I’m starting to doubt myself.
His hand cups the side of my face tenderly. “I see the determination in your eyes.”
The crash of another locker door breaks me from the trance Asher has me in, and I take a deliberate step away from him.
One of the girls I met yesterday, Becky, is checking out her reflection in the mirror of her locker.
She smirks when she sees Asher standing beside me.
She walks right up to him and places a hand on his chest playfully.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, Asher,” she says flirtatiously.
She’s one of those girls who has confidence in droves.
I can’t help but glare at her. As much as I wish I could be more like her, I want to know why she thinks she can touch him.
“That’s my cue to leave.” He smiles at me. “Need anything, call me. My number is in your phone.”
I look him over, wondering what he’s going on about, but maybe it’s a ploy to get extra-flirty Becky to stop touching him. “Thanks,” I respond, even though I have no intention of calling him ever.
“I didn’t really mean to scare you away, Asher. You can stay while we change, I’m sure.” She looks at me. “What’s your name again?”
“Princess.” I grin back at her, using the stupid name he’s given me. Maybe he’s right and I don’t really want these people to know the real me. This is just like in school when I used to take part in the plays. I’m just playing a role.
“I’m sure Princess won’t mind.” She flutters her extra-long lashes at him as she stares up at him, all dreamy.
He smiles at her, but it’s not the same smile he has for me, it’s more forced. “Another time maybe.” He winks in my direction and then moves out of her grip on him and leaves the room.
I turn back to my locker, smirking stupidly to myself. I have no idea why, but watching him shut her down was a little too much fun.
“Your loss, baby,” she calls after him. But he’s long gone. Probably running in the other direction if he’s smart. Becky looks like the kind of girl who eats men alive. And I have to wonder if that’s what it takes to be a dancer in this club.
I place the tiara back in my locker and quickly check my phone, curiosity getting the better of me after he said I have his number, and I know that’s not possible because I didn’t put it in there.
I search through my contacts. And sure enough, the name Asher Stryker is in there, and so is Cruz Stryker.
What on earth? How did they get their numbers in my phone?
It was literally by my side all night, and my door was locked.
I made sure of it, but this is weird, and so is Cruz knowing my Instagram account.
Something in the pit of my stomach tells me those sneaky bastards snuck into my room and meddled with my phone while I was fast asleep.
I shake that thought off, trying not to dwell on it too much when I have work to focus on.
I close my locker with my purse and phone inside and head out to the main stage.
Becky runs to catch up with me. Placing a hand on my shoulder, she leans in. “You have Asher’s number?” she squeals, way too excited. “We just have to be friends.” She claps.
“No, he was just joking.”
She looks instantly disappointed. “That’s a damn shame. He’s the kind of guy that looks like fun, right?”
I shrug. “Maybe?” I try to act uninterested when really, I’m right there with her. He looks like fun, and so much trouble.
She links her arm with mine. “He is. And I think we should pursue him.”
I unlink my arm. What does she mean we. “He’s all yours, Becky.”
“Your loss.” She smirks in a way that almost makes me feel sorry for Asher.
Paige takes the stage, clapping her hands. “Okay, ladies, paying attention. We have a lot to get through this morning if you’re going to be working this stage by Friday,” she announces.
I dedicate my focus to Paige and the moves she is showing us up on the center stage.
But I would be a liar if I said a part of me isn’t still lost in everything that happened this morning, everything Asher Stryker.
I know it’s a terrible idea to be thinking about him at all, but there is this sweetness to him that captivates me and makes me want to know more.
And a sexiness that has my heart doing stupid things.
Yep, it’s decided. I need to stay as far away from him as possible.
Asher might be hot as hell, but he’s dangerous in more ways than one.