3. Henry
3
HENRY
E ven though I planned to head out tonight and hit up some clubs, it wasn’t for the purpose of what my father wanted. He wished I’d meet a woman, but I bet he’d never, ever approve of a clubbing twenty-something. He wanted me to live more and work less. And, well, tonight would be a combination of both.
I felt terrible that I’d missed celebrating Owen’s birthday last week, but neither of us could manage to get away then. My best friend and COO at Dunn Enterprises was just as much of a workaholic as I was. He lacked a nagging parent reminding him that he wasn’t getting any younger.
It was a week late for Owen’s birthday, but we were going out to check out some more clubs that my scouts hadn’t gone to yet. My biggest goal was to find unique talent for the new club. Fifty needed the best of the best. The hottest dancers. As Miami’s newest attraction, it needed something spectacular. So far, my scouts had sourced the mediocre, same old. Tonight, Owen and I would combine work and pleasure—going out to scout ourselves and also so we could get a drink for his belated happy birthday.
“You really think a place like this”—Owen paused outside the seedy dance club, gesturing at the neon letters in the sign—“will have decent employees?”
I considered the stupidity, and desperation, of my ill-thought-out idea of coming here tonight. His deep grimace and furrowed brow showed his skepticism. A healthy amount of skepticism. The A in the club’s namesake, Danger , was tilted to the side so precariously that the neon letter seemed to be hanging on by a thread. Even if that sign didn’t look ready to crash and fall on whoever entered the seedy-looking, almost derelict building, the sidewalk we stood on didn’t entice me to set one more step closer. Broken glass from beer bottles littered the area where the pavement and brick wall met. Weeds waved in a slight breeze, taking root from the significant cracks along the way. The stink of body odor and marijuana mixed emanated from the pile of nasty clothes left in a heap toward the side of the entrance.
I shrugged, curious at this point. “I asked one of the valet drivers back at the building where one of the hidden gems of a club was.”
A few more people passed us, heading into Danger, and we stepped aside so they could reach the door. They seemed oblivious to the junky exterior, striding inside the windowless place.
“And he said this place wouldn’t disappoint.”
Owen wasn’t convinced. Or perhaps he didn’t feel risky tonight. “It’s already disappointing me.” Again, he indicated the exterior. “Any dancer worth a modicum of pride wouldn’t come somewhere like this.”
I swatted his arm as I headed to the door. “Come on. I’m intrigued, at least. Maybe he told me to come here as a prank.” Those valet drivers loved to pull one on me when they could.
Owen chuckled, following me in. “Maybe.”
The small vestibule where I paid for our cover was dark and cramped, but I supposed for a temporary waiting place, it served its purpose. That stink from outside didn’t follow in here, and with simple dark carpet and black-painted walls, it seemed cleaner and well-maintained.
“Enjoy the show,” the attendant behind the small window said as she held up the card device for me to sign after paying for our entrance.
“Something like that,” Owen muttered behind me.
I shot him a look and opened the second door to enter. “We’ll give it five minutes. Then we’ll move on to somewhere else.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He walked alongside me, also scoping the dimly lit interior and checking out the surprisingly full house. Many guests sat around tables. Others had seats at high-top tables. It seemed we were late getting here because it took us a good few minutes to snag a couple of chairs. They were closer to the stage, and since the cushions were still warm, I deduced that we only had these chairs because someone must have recently vacated them.
“Where else would you like to go for your belated birthday?” I asked when we sat.
“Eh, this is fine.”
Not.
He continued scoping out the crowd, doubtful and concerned about being here, somewhere clearly below his standards. Danger fell short on my standards. I didn’t go out clubbing or to catch shows often, but I owned clubs and was familiar with how one such establishment should be run. Fifty would be a combination of a traditional nightclub and a cabaret venue, which was different from the other Dunn clubs. It was all the more reason I felt the need to impress, to really make it look good with the dancers. While Owen might be a tougher judge, I was able to tune out the details about the place and focus on waiting for the show to start. I was here to see the dancers, not to critique a club that wouldn’t be in the same league of competition of a Dunn club.
“We won’t stay long. Just to see if anyone catches my eye.”
“Since you have such expertise in selecting dance and entertainment staff,” he teased.
I smirked and shrugged, being a good sport about it. “The scouts are bringing in nothing new.” I wasn’t an expert, but I was a man. And I could be impressed just the same as all these other people who’d paid to come in here. “Maybe the scouting agency is too stuck on protocol and only considering a select few.”
“I know what you mean.” He nodded, sitting back in his chair. “I watched half of those videos with you, and it’s all meh.”
“Most of the audition videos seemed…”
“Immature?” he guessed.
“Yeah. It seemed like they were cheerleader tryouts or the dancers were ballet fanatics.” While I was sure all the people the scouts found were talented in their own rights, they didn’t spark any intrigue.
“Hey, before the show starts.” He lost his dubious expression and got serious for a moment. “I saw your dad in the office earlier. What’d I miss?”
I shook my head. “Nothing?”
He arched a brow. “Nothing at all? I know he likes to stop in often, but it seemed like he was on a mission.”
“The usual whining about my working too much and never settling down. He?—”
The lights dimmed further, distracting me from talking with this cue that the show was about to begin. Music played low in the background, but it cut out for a newer tune to take over.
I faced the stage and watched as the first dancers came out. All of them looked fine—more than fine—and it was abundantly clear that these were no amateurs. Danger’s exterior was shoddy and suggested grave neglect, but the flashy, ornamented costumes these professional dancers wore implied that the managers put all their focus and priority on them. They came out with well-practiced choreography. Not a single one missed their step. Every one of them hit their marks and moved effortlessly, like this grand entrance number was something they were simply born to do.
“Holy shit,” Owen said beside me.
I nodded, too riveted with my gaze on the show to reply.
Holy shit was right. Between the lighting and the satiny, flashy clothes the dancers wore, I was instantly wowed. Every woman moved gracefully. Smiles were pasted on without a flinch while the upper half of their faces were covered by intricately designed masks. Their bodies swayed perfectly to the beat of the music, lulling me to want to watch them all at once yet also study them separately.
Relying on the valet’s advice to come here, I hadn’t bothered to actually look into what I was watching. I had no clue what the program was, if they’d stick with a more play-like performance in a naughty musical fashion or deviate into something entirely original.
I wasn’t caught up in trying to figure out what we were watching. I was too busy being impressed with the dancers.
Turning toward Owen’s profile, I noticed a similar look of awe on his face. He grinned, gazing at the stage, but he glanced at me with a smile of surprise.
“It seems the valet was right about?—”
He went slack-jawed at something on the stage, and I faced forward again.
Someone, not something, captured my friend’s gaze. I fell right into the same trap.
A taller woman entered, flanked by two more dancers behind her. They moved in sync, but a clear deference was shown to the taller one. She was in charge—of the number, of the show, of stealing my attention.
Instantly, with the first glimpse of her strutting further onto the stage, she captivated me. I was sucked in, spiraling into an addictive lure to watch her carry her body through the music. Her hips swayed seductively, slow, then fast. Her arms and legs were extensions of the music, interpreted through faster beats and changing tempos. All the while, her chin stayed up defiantly, as if she dared us all to watch.
This wasn’t a woman, but a seductress. A goddess. A vision I couldn’t tear my gaze from for a millisecond.
I didn’t “live it up” often. Going out and catching all the latest wasn’t my style. I was a businessman, bound to my job and ensuring that I impressed my father, but I was human too. I’d partied a bit when I was younger. I’d gone to clubs and shows many times.
I’d seen my fair share of women.
But not her. Not this one.
“Goddamn…” I shared it on an exhale, stunned stupid at the sight of this dancer as she moved off to the side, nearer to where Owen and I sat, while more dancers entered the number after her.
This much closer, I was treated to a more intimate view of this exquisite dancer. Roving my gaze over her, I took in every inch of her supple, smooth flesh, so glossy and glowing under the lights. Muscles moved, proving her athleticism and strength. Her figure taunted me, those curves barely contained in her costume. Her breasts trapped behind the beaded corset, her ass partly revealed from the high cut of her bodice. All of it. All of her. She drew me in until I was trapped and unable to look away.
“God damn ,” Owen agreed with me belatedly.
I nodded, numb and mute. Taking my stare off her would be a crime, and I couldn’t make my eyes move. Like a moth to the flame, a fly to the honey. I was reduced to a primitive creature, magnetized to this woman.
None of the others mattered. They fell into the background, mere buzz and white noise behind her . The music filtered into my mind like a haze, seeping in and lulling me to hear the beat and see her display it with her body.
“ That’s why this place is a hidden gem,” Owen said, chuckling over the awe in his own voice. “I mean, damn, that woman is fine.”
Again, I nodded without a word, unable to speak yet and unwilling to leave the foggy spell of this woman seeming to dance for me.
Her eyes locked on mine. Despite the crowded seats, all the people watching the show, she seemed to single me out. Me. She was gazing at me among all the others out here.
The lights cut between us. The blinding brightness of the multicolored streaks irritated my vision, interfering with my ability to see her clearer. To make a connection. To really peer into her eyes and let her accept that I was devoted to witnessing her dance, no one else’s.
But I didn’t have a chance. She turned, obeying the beat and rhythm of her dance. Given a view of her shoulder, then her back as she spun and moved further back into the crew of dancers, that tether between us was broken.
“Her.” I was obsessed, instantly needy to find this woman. “I want her.”
Faintly, I was aware of Owen nodding next to me. He dodged and leaned with me, tracking that one woman’s dance. “The dancer on the end too. She’s good.”
I had eyes for no one but that one. The taller one in the magenta and green costume with the defiant lift of her chin.
The star.
She could be my star, at Fifty. Hell, she was the sort of woman to entice a man into wanting her to be theirs, period.
“The taller one. I want her.”
Owen laughed again. “You and every other man in this place.”
“I’ve never seen anyone move like that,” I commented, hating that she was masked. “I’ve got to find her after the show. Maybe we can approach her backstage after the show.”
“To ask her to work at Fifty?”
I frowned, glancing at him when the masked dancer I couldn’t get out of my mind eased further to the other end of the stage, out of my line of sight. “Yeah.” I’d offer her something more competitive than what she made here. I had to.
He smirked. “You sound so smitten.”
I rolled my eyes. “I want her to come work at Fifty.”
“That’s it?” he challenged.
If he was asking if I was aroused, or attracted to her, I’d have to admit I was a dead man to say no. She was gorgeous. Sultry, seductive, and so skilled at moving her body that it was impossible not to notice her and desire her.
At the same time, though, the idea of envisioning myself with a woman like this felt… wrong.
She’s not Mia, though. Lately, if I had any idea of enjoying a woman’s company in bed, it was Mia’s face I had in mind. Of hearing her laugh and seeing her smile. It didn’t seem right to so instantly desire this dancer when I was so hooked on Mia. Mia was just a dream, though, an imaginary what-if that could never happen. Having anything other than a work relationship and moderate friendship with Mia would never be a reality.
Right?
She worked for me, and that alone made her off-limits. Dunn Enterprises enforced strict ethics rules at the office.
I’d have more luck scoring with this dancer than I would with the secretary who was often the highlight of my day.
Owen laughed again, interpreting my silence as an answer. I cleared my throat, stuck on the thought that I could be dishonest to Mia, somehow, by lusting for this stranger dancing so sexily on the stage. “Yeah, that’s it. I want to ask this woman to dance at Fifty, that’s it.”
“Uh-huh.” Owen gestured at her, still at the other side of the stage. “You get talent like that at Fifty and it’ll be an overnight success.”
All through the show, I kept my eyes on her. It didn’t matter if she went from one side of the stage to the other. She stole my focus. With that mask covering her face, a sense of mystery clouded my judgment. I wanted to see her. To talk to her. To get her to consider working at my club, not here at Danger.
Finally, after the show, Owen and I hurried through the crowd either moving toward the exit or to the bar. I wasn’t sure where a backstage entrance might be, but we had to be getting closer. We wove through guests. We sidestepped the waitstaff cleaning up the aisle. Lights hadn’t been turned all the way back on yet, and with the dimness, it was tricky to see far ahead.
Reaching a pair of burly security guards, we settled in to ask, cajole, beg, and request for entrance to the back stage.
“Listen, no one , and I mean no one, is getting back there,” the beefier man said.
“Then can I speak to your manager?” I asked.
Owen joined in on this tactic. “Can you give our information to the dancers’ manager?” He held out a card. “We’d just like to speak with one of the dancers.”
The guard’s partner huffed a laugh. “Yeah, sure.”
The first man glanced at the business card. “Dunn?”
I pointed at myself. “I’m Henry Dunn. And we’d like to speak with that dancer or whoever represents her.”
They had to listen. They had to cooperate. Because I knew already that I wouldn’t be able to get that woman out of my mind. Owen was right. If she danced at Fifty, it’d be a bigger success.
“I can pass this info along to Gina,” the first man said, flicking Owen’s business card between his fingers. “That’s the best I can tell ya, Mr. Dunn. I’ll let her know that y’all are interested in one of her dancers.”
“Not just any of them,” I clarified. “That tall one in the magenta and?—”
“Yeah. We know. Everyone wants her.” He chortled, elbowing his coworker. “But hell, man, you ain’t the first.”
I sighed, knowing and hating that fact more than I had any right to.
I had no dibs on that woman. I didn’t even know her. But with a strong and inexplicable neediness, I was certain that I wanted her near me, working at Fifty, no matter what.
I wanted her near me .