Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Novalee
My movements flow like liquid fire as I wrap my legs around the pole, the rhythm of the music pulsing through my body. Each twist and arch feel natural, fueled by the vodka shots I downed backstage, now swirling with the bottle of red wine. It’s a dangerous cocktail, but it takes the edge off, smoothing the jagged nerves left by my run-in with the Lane twins.
My mask didn’t slip on as easily, the one I put on each night to become Glitter. So, I reached for a little liquid courage to help me push through. It’s working, but not enough to stop my thoughts from constantly returning to the watch in my locker. It sits there, a weight, burning a hole in my consciousness.
Let’s face it. Koen Lane isn’t going to march in here and demand it back. But still, having his watch on me, out and about in Vegas, is risky. If he connects the dots…
No.
I do a full rotation around the pole.
That’s ridiculous .
The truth is, it wasn’t my best steal. I was more than tipsy and didn’t do it intentionally, so I was too careless.
I’m usually so much better.
And yet, I was still good enough to lift something from a celebrity.
I smile, sliding down the pole one last time before I make my way to the edge of the stage, turning my back to the crowd. Slowly, deliberately, I bend forward, giving them a perfect view of my ass. I can feel their collective breath hitch, eyes glued to every curve as I hold the pose long enough to make them hungry for more. Eager hands reach, crumpled bills clutched tight, waiting for their chance to be close to me.
A hand brushes where it shouldn’t, fingers lingering on my ass as one of them slides a hundred-dollar bill into my string. I spin around, locking eyes with the idiot. He’s a guy in his late thirties with slicked-back hair and a designer suit that screams money but does nothing to hide the sleaze in his dark, hooded eyes. His lips curl into a smug grin as if he thinks the cash gives him the right to touch.
That’s when I let my heel slam into his chest, wiping that grin off his face. A faint smile curves my lips as I meet his startled gaze. “Look, don’t touch,” I purr, laced with a honeyed threat that dares him to try again.
The guy stumbles back onto the velvet couch, probably still feeling the sting of my heel. At Euphoria, even the wealthiest quickly learn that money doesn’t buy entitlement.
“Hands off the girls,” Carl’s gruff voice rumbles from beside the stage, loud enough to cut through the music.
But I don’t need the big, bald bouncer for this. I catch Carl’s eye and wink, letting him know I’ve got it under control. He nods, crossing his massive arms over his chest.
The tension in the air melts away as I pivot back to the pole, sliding effortlessly into the rhythm of the music. My skin tingles with the beat as I arch my back, twisting and turning, a living flame on polished steel.
I love how they react to me. How I can turn want into awe, hunger into surrender, all with a curve of my spine or the arch of my foot. It’s intoxicating, the art of temptation, the silent promise they’ll never hold, no matter how much they crave it.
The men around the stage lean in hungrily, their gazes burning, their fingers itching to cross that invisible line, but they’ve been taught better now.
I climb higher, wrapping my legs around the cool metal before I throw my head back, my smile wicked as I slowly descend until I’m at eye level with the row of men at the front who watch as if they’ve forgotten how to breathe.
The song changes, but it’s much the same, with a throbbing bassline reverberating through the floor and into my bones. My gaze flickers to Carl, lingering for a moment. He’s talking to one of the coordinators, nodding in that subtle way of his, telling me I’ve been booked.
Good thing too. I don’t want to go home yet, and you won’t catch me at Vortex tonight for two reasons. One is the watch stashed away in my locker, and the other is a certain bartender who may or may not be waiting for me. I’m not in the mood for complications.
Finishing with a flourish, I slide down the pole one last time, my feet touching the ground with the grace of a cat. The men shove forward, dollar bills crumpled in their hands, eager to throw them at my feet. I let them have their moment, letting their eyes linger on my tits, savoring every second they can steal as I slowly bend to collect the money, one bill at a time.
Once I’ve gathered all the cash, I finally drape my arm across my chest, covering myself with a teasing half-smile .
Show is over.
Carl appears at the edge of the stage, signaling me over with a subtle nod. “Freshen up. You’ve got a private booking.”
I nod in response, no words needed, and follow him off the stage, weaving through the club’s shadows. The noise fades as we head backstage, and Carl waits by the door as I stride to my locker. Tossing the crumpled bills inside without a second glance, I grab my lipstick and swipe on a fresh coat of pink. The pasties are still where they’re supposed to be, and I don’t change my G-string or my high heels, keeping it quick.
With a flick of his wrist, Carl gestures for me to follow, leading me back into the thumping bass and dim lights. As we near the velvet curtains, the air thickens with that familiar buzz of anticipation.
God, I love doing lap dances.
Maybe I’ll leave with another watch tonight. I’ve never stolen two in one night, but hey, there’s always a first time.
I grip the curtain’s edge, my heart picking up its pace as I pull it aside and step through, ready to put on another show, coming face-to-face with Levi and Koen Lane.
Fuck.
My instincts scream to bolt the moment I see them, but before I can follow their advice, Koen moves with startling speed and snags my wrist. He taps his forefinger once against my forehead as his voice curls through the air like silk. “Sleep.”
The word sinks deep inside me, and before I can even register what’s happening, my body betrays me. My limbs go limp as my head falls forward, resting against his shoulder. Everything inside me stills as if someone has flipped my off switch.
I can still process Koen’s scent, though, and it’s intoxicating— leather, vanilla, and spice. For a wild second, I want to lick him and taste the warmth of his skin. Except I can’t move. I’m frozen, helpless.
And here I thought all those people he hypnotized on stage were faking it.
Shit.
“Everything is fine,” he murmurs right next to my ear, making goose bumps erupt all over my nearly naked body. “But in this room, with us, you can’t lie. Every word that leaves your mouth will be the truth. And you can’t leave until I allow you to. Otherwise, you’re completely in control of yourself and your actions. When I allow you to leave, the compulsion will fall the moment you step a foot outside the curtains.” His voice wraps around my mind. Then, he lets go of my wrist.
I jerk back, blinking, my body stiff as I try to shake off the feeling he just had over me. “What the hell? What did you do to me?”
Koen’s dark eyes hold mine calmly. “Where’s my watch?”
“In my locker backstage.”
What the actual fuck? Why did I say that?
“Why did you take it?” he asks , unnervingly composed. “Was that the plan from the start? Were you at the grave to ambush us? Answer each question in order.”
“It was a reflex. I didn’t plan to steal it. No.” The words spill out, and I am unable to stop them.
Shut the fuck up, Nova!
“Told you, she’s fucking delightful,” Levi chimes in, his laughter rumbling from behind Koen. He’s lounging against the wall, amusement glittering in his eyes as if this is all a game to him.
I try to move, to turn and leave, but my feet are locked in place, refusing to obey the desperate commands of my brain, and panic tightens its grip around my chest.
Koen tilts his head slightly, his gaze still piercing. “Why were you at our sister’s grave?”
I grit my teeth, trying to resist, but the words push their way out. “I like to talk to her when I miss my sister.”
“Why?” he presses, his expression softening a fraction. “Why her?”
“My sister’s grave is in Phoenix,” I breathe out. “And your sister’s reminds me of hers.”
Koen’s expression shifts slightly, but enough for me to see something flicker behind his eyes—curiosity, perhaps even a hint of sympathy. He studies me, his gaze lingering, making my skin prickle.
Levi’s chuckle breaks the moment. “Look at that, Koen. The Little Bird’s sentimental. Who would’ve thought?”
I force myself to breathe, to steady the panic that threatens to swallow me whole. My eyes are locked on Koen, daring him to say something to release me from this twisted game he’s set up.
“Why is stealing a reflex for you?” he presses instead.
I grit my teeth, the truth crawling up my throat before I can swallow it back. What I can do is keep my answers as short as possible, though. “Pickpocketing is a hobby.”
That earns me a small smirk from Koen, his lips curving with a dark kind of amusement.
“What do you do with your loot?” Levi straightens, clearly intrigued. “Do you sell it?”
“They’re under my bed. No. They’re trophies.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I try again to will my body to move toward the door, but my feet remain stubbornly rooted to the floor. My panic sharpens when I realize I really won’t be able to leave this room until Koen allows me to. “What the fuck did you do to me?”
In answer, Koen’s smirk deepens, the corner of his mouth lifting.
The curtain gets pulled back, and Carl’s head peeks in. “Everything all right in here?”
“Everything is fine,” I say automatically, the words sliding out as if they belong to someone else.
Because they do.
Goddammit.
“Then get on with it. They’ve paid you well.” Carl nods and closes the curtain again.
What do I do ?
My gaze flicks between the twins. Levi still looks amused while Koen stands with his arms crossed over his chest, tilting his head in a challenge.
I sigh and walk over to the wall, pressing the button to start up the music. The familiar bassline kicks in, filling the room with a slow, pulsing rhythm. Reluctantly, I turn back toward Koen, my body moving as if on autopilot, but this time, it’s of my own accord. I hate the idea of dancing for them, but it’s not the first time I’ve done shit I hate to survive.
I reach for him, aiming to push him back onto the couch like I’ve done a hundred other times with a hundred different men. My hand gets close, but before I can make contact, Koen raises his palm and steps back, freezing me in place. “No.”
Levi takes that as his cue, sinking onto the velvet couch, his grin widening as he watches the tension coil inside me. “Me. Me, me! Take me!” I huff but move toward him, and he chuckles, clearly enjoying every second of this.
Levi’s grin only widens as I straddle him and sink onto his lap, my hips moving to the slow rhythm of the music. He smells divine—a zesty blend of citrus and green apple spiced with warm ginger. “Damn, I’ve never had a lap dance.” He snickers, his voice vibrating through his chest, close enough that I can feel it under my hands. “I always wanted to see the Chippendales, but this… this is way better.”
I roll my eyes, though a small smile ghosts across my lips despite myself. I’ve always liked him when I’ve seen him on television, unapologetic, never giving a fuck what anyone else thinks.
It’s a pity he’ll be one of the reasons I end up in jail tonight.
As I move against him, his hands slide to my waist, fingers pressing just enough to make their presence known. It’s almost automatic when I say loudly, “Look, don’t touch.”
The velvet curtain is ripped open, and when I turn to look, I see Carl’s eyes immediately locking on Levi’s hands at my hips.
“Hands off!” he barks, cutting through the music.
Levi immediately lifts his hands into the air in mock surrender. “Sorry!”
Carl’s expression doesn’t soften. “I don’t care if you’re a celebrity. Touch one of the girls again, and I’ll kick your ass so hard out of here, you won’t just be a star anymore… you’ll be seeing them.”
Levi’s grin is back with full force. “Yes, sir. ”
His bulge grows unmistakably hard beneath me, and I smile to myself. “Chill, Carl. He’s not interested in what I’m offering, and honestly, I don’t mind him touching me.”
Right. I can’t lie.
“There’s no straight bone in this body, honey,” Levi agrees. Carl narrows his eyes for a moment, then huffs, stepping back and pulling the curtain closed again. The moment he’s gone, Levi bursts out laughing. “Holy shit, that was hot. I’m so into broody and bossy. Is he single?”
“I have no fucking clue,” I say, resuming the dance.
Levi’s hands come to rest casually on my thighs now, his fingers tracing small circles as I sway to the beat, letting my body move even as my mind races.
“So, why’d you alert him if you don’t mind me touching you?” Levi’s voice is light, almost teasing.
“Reflex,” I mutter, focusing on the rhythm beneath my skin, trying to lose myself in it.
If this is my last lap dance before I go to jail, I should make it good, right?
Levi’s fingers glide up to the curve of my waist, a gentle pressure, never pushing too far, not sexual but almost soothing.
“A reflex like the stealing?” Koen asks from where he hovers in my peripheral vision.
I close my eyes, desperate to block them both out, to let the music take over. “Yes.”
Levi chuckles lowly beneath me, his fingers now idly tracing the glitter dusted across my skin. He follows a line from my collarbone to my right shoulder, but then his fingers pause over the burn scar hidden beneath the glitter, and I freeze. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps tracing as if he’s feeling out the story instead of asking for it.
“Why are you stripping?” Koen’s voice pushes into the silence, dragging me back and making me open my eyes.
“It’s the only thing I’m good at.” The words come out flat, but they’re the truth.
“You really believe that?”
“Yes.”
Koen scoffs, and I can sense him stepping closer, his presence a shadow creeping over me. “You could steal your way through life easily if you just sold what you take. ”
“I’m not selling anything.” I look up at him and frown. “Listen, I can give you your watch back, or you can call the police, but this game is getting boring.”
“You could do anything else.” Levi’s touch moves again, this time brushing lightly over the curve of my shoulder, fingers toying with the pink wig I wear while working. He gives a playful tug on a strand to make me look at him again. “You’re worth more than this.”
What is that supposed to mean? That strippers aren’t worth anything?
I know I’m not worth shit, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the girls here aren’t. I shake my head, that truth coming out in an angry breath. “ I’m not worth more than this. I’m only good to be looked at or used.”
Levi shifts beneath me. “Used? Like in—”
“Fucked,” I snap, cutting him off, the words burning my throat as they escape.
Damn, this truth shit. It’s going to ruin me.
Levi’s hands stop me mid-motion. “Are you prostituting yourself?”
His tone is harsh, but it’s Koen’s voice that cuts through me as he asks at the same time, “Who made you believe that?”
I bite my lip, struggling against the truth that wants out. It wasn’t someone else. It was me. It’s always been me. My actions, my consequences.
So, I decide to answer Levi’s question and sidestep Koens.
“I’m not a prostitute.”
“You never wanted more than this?” Levi gives me an out while his hands stay firm on my hips, and his thumbs start to trace slow circles again. “A different life?”
I hesitate, the words barely making it past my lips. “A long time ago.”
“What changed?” Koen’s gaze sharpens, refusing to let me off that easily.
The chasm that opens up in my chest at his question makes me flinch.
I can’t seem to refuse to answer him altogether, so I stick to vague, to what’s safe.
“Everything.”
“Why are you even here?” Koen is so close now I can feel his warmth. “When you don’t want anything?”
“Because I have nowhere else to go.” A bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it, the sound harsh even to my ears. I shift my weight, trying to put some space between us, but it’s useless. They’re everywhere. “What do you want? Leverage? Something to hold over me?”
“Yes.” His answer is sharp and steady as is the look in his eyes.
My pulse hammers against my ribs. Fuck.
I’m so fucking done with this. With them.
“Just call the fucking police,” I snap, my body tensing as if ready for a fight.
Koen doesn’t flinch, keeping his eyes locked on mine like he’s peeling away my layers one by one.
Fucking mentalists.
“What are you living for, Glitter ?”
The truth slips out raw, unfiltered. “Nothing.”
It feels as if the word echoes back at me, and I see something shift in Koen’s expression, a crack in that cold exterior. “What does that mean? Do you want to die?”
I shrug, forcing myself to hold his gaze even though every part of me wants to look away. “It’s not that I want to die.” The fight leaves me as I exhale. “I’m just not keen on living.”
Levi’s hands on my hips tighten, his fingers pressing into my skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to still me. “How about you keep living in case something good happens? At least that’s what I do.”
My body stills beneath his touch, the warmth of his fingers so different from the cold feeling creeping up inside me. I glance at him. His playful demeanor has faded, replaced with something more serious. It almost makes me want to laugh— almost —but instead, I stare at him, wondering how I ended up here, tangled between these two men who seem to read me better than I can read myself.
This is fucking ridiculous. They are the Lane brothers, celebrities. Here because I stole shit from them, not for a fucking therapy session. I was afraid of them getting me locked in jail, but it seems, thanks to Koen’s little hypnosis act, the possibility of getting locked up in a mental health facility is getting higher by the second.
“What was your dream once?” Koen asks when I don’t say anything.
I take a breath, memories creeping in before I can block them out, and I hate Koen for the fact that he pulls me back to when I was happy, or at least the happiest I’ve ever been. “A villa in Tuscany. Driving a Mustang.”
Koen exchanges a glance with Levi, something unspoken passing between them. Levi shrugs casually and says, “We need you to steal something for us.”
I blink, trying to catch up. Steal? That is not where I thought this was going.
“If you give back the watch and help us with this…” Koen offers, “… we won’t call the police.”
“Fuck that.” I pull back, but Levi’s hands tighten on my hips, keeping me from bolting from his lap. “Call the police. You can’t fucking blackmail me.”
“We’re not blackmailing you,” Levi promises, but Koen’s smirk sharpens.
“You know who we are, right? ”
“Of course I do. Everybody does.”
“Then you know we could buy you that villa and Mustang,” Levi says smoothly. “And give you enough to live happily ever after in Italy.”
The promises swirl in my mind, dangerous and glittering like broken glass.
I don’t trust them. But God, some part of me wants to.
I could start over.
I have nothing left here. Annabelle is off to a better life, and I fucked things up with my favorite club. And let’s be honest, I can’t strip forever. I’m so tired of this life . But as quickly as it comes, it’s gone, extinguished by the weight of reality.
What would I even do there alone?
I snort, shaking my head. “What could possibly be so important for you to offer me all that?”
“We’ll tell you…” Koen says as he studies me. “When you’ve proven you’re good enough to help.”
I raise a brow as tension coils through my body. “So, what? I have to pass some kind of test first?”
The twins share another glance, and then Levi grins. “Good idea.” His fingers press lightly into my hips as he lifts me off his lap and stands. “You know about our building?”
“The Lane Building?” I scoff.
It’s practically a Vegas landmark, right on the Strip with its black exterior and neon blue lights that demand attention, even amidst the towering five-star hotels flanking it. People come from all over the world to see it, where they can see the magic shows and visit the magic museum all in one stop.
Before they took their break after their uncle died three months ago, tourists lined up daily for the chance to see the show, and the museum houses everything from Houdini’s old props to custom-made, high-tech illusions created by the Lane family themselves.
It’s almost untouchable.
“Exactly,” Levi grins. “Be there tomorrow at two p.m.”
“Bring the watch. And come sober,” Koen adds, giving me a look that lets me know he’s fully aware I’m not right now.
“And what if I don’t?” I ask, raising my chin.
I’m a lot, but not a fucking pushover.
Koen ignores that as he asks flatly, “You’ll come, right?”
“Yes.” Once more, the truth slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Goddammit.
I have no idea why I’m intrigued, but fuck it, I am.
They could ruin me or worse. Why does the idea of a villa in Tuscany, of leaving this all behind, make my chest ache like I might cry?
The thought claws at the back of my mind as I watch Levi’s grin widen.
“You’re allowed to leave now.” Koen sits on the couch and leans back, satisfied. “See you tomorrow, Little Thief.”
Little Thief?