Chapter 49 Savannah
FORTY-NINE
SAVANNAH
“Savannah,” Max barks from the back of the dressing room.
“I’m about to go on,” I tell him as he stalks toward me.
“Carrie, you’re up. Sav, you’re coming with me.”
The blond next to me scurries to the door leading to the stage. The rest of the girls watch me, brows lifted in curiosity.
“Is something wrong?” I stand and adjust my robe.
Rather than focus on my face, his attention drops to my chest. Gross. “Yeah, you’re not going on tonight.”
“But—” I scan the room, then lean in closer and lower my voice. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Special request came in for you. Got a customer who wants some private time.”
I don’t even have to consider it before I shake my head. “No.”
He shrugs. “I’ve been paid to keep you off that stage. And we’ll both get paid more if you go in and give this guy his private show.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who?”
He digs his hands into his pockets and rolls back on his heels. “We’ll call him Mr. Ten Grand.”
“Ten Grand?” I shout. My heart rate shoots up. And I’d get what, five of that? But what does a man willing to pay ten grand expect?
I shake my head again. I can’t, no matter how tempting. It’s bad enough dancing on a stage. In a private room, I’d have to give a lap dance at a minimum. And if this man is willing to pay ten grand, I can’t imagine he’ll be satisfied with the minimum. “Sorry, I can’t.”
Eyes narrowed, he straightens. “I’ll go forty-sixty with you.”
Heart rate picking up, I shake my head.
“Thirty-seventy. It’s my best offer. You’ll walk out of here with seven thousand dollars under the table. You understand what you could do with that money? All the guy wants to do is talk.”
My stomach bottoms out. “What?”
He sways on his toes again. “Yup. Just wants to talk. And then you and I will be ten thousand dollars richer.”
All I have to do is talk? Seriously? This place has cameras in the private rooms, and they’re well-monitored.
So just talking? I could do that. And that amount of money would ensure I don’t ever have to come into a place like this again.
So long as I keep my head on straight and don’t get wooed by any more older men.
And so long as I keep my distance from my evil mother.
I lean in close. “No, I’ll be seven thousand dollars richer. You’ll only be three.”
Eyes lighting up, he coughs out a laugh. “You sure you want to quit after tonight? You’ve got the balls to make it here.”
Smiling, I pat his shoulder and skirt around him. “And after my little talk, I’ll never have to set foot in here again.”
As Steele, one of the club’s bouncers, leads me toward the back where the private rooms are located, I breathe through my nose, willing my nerves to settle. Men have the weirdest fetishes. What the hell kind of conversation is worth ten grand?
“Don’t go far,” I tell Steele.
When he nods, I turn toward the door, reminding myself that I’m safe. That he and the other guys will ensure it. But then he pushes the door open for me, and I come face to face with Camden, and I realize no one can protect me from this.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I mutter.
He looks disgustingly good in a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt, his muscles and the tattoos on his arms on full display. At the sound of my voice, he snaps up straight and zeroes in on me.
“Savannah,” he breathes, his entire being shuddering.
The sound of his voice, the not so quiet desperation and relief stitched into every syllable, causes my heart to flip. Without my permission, my body angles his way. I nearly stumble forward, the baser parts of me wanting the comfort that felt so familiar and real only a week ago.
He takes a step in my direction.
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand, that single word coming out like a sob.
He flinches, his eyes flashing in the dim lights. “I’m not going to hurt you, baby girl.”
Pain lances my chest, making it hard to breathe. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to walk in here and buy me and then call me baby girl.”
Panic and horror flit across his face. “What? Buy you? No. I just want to talk.”
Anger and devastation flood me, goading me to tug at the silky tie holding my black robe closed and pull the fabric to the side, exposing what’s underneath.
Camden hisses in a breath, and with a muttered fuck, he looks away.
Bile rises in my throat. He can’t even look at me now that he knows where I came from.
I wrap the robe around myself, holding it to my chest, and swallow back a sob.
This is pure torture. Seeing him here. But it hurts so much more knowing he doesn’t want to see me.
“Wow, you really did just want to talk,” I huff, spinning toward the door. “Keep your money.”
“Savannah. Please.”
I peek back over my shoulder, a mess of pain and confusion and maybe even a little hope.
He doesn’t look up. His focus is fixed on his feet. Even as he begs me to stay, he can’t look at me.
“The last thing I’d ask you to do is fucking strip for me,” he growls at the ground.
That pain in my chest spreads, and tears prick my eyes. Could this man really be this disgusted by me? “Is it because I’m a stripper now, or is it because you fucked my mom? Which one disgusts you more?” I say through tears.
Camden snaps his head up, his blue eyes blazing. “You have it all fucking wrong.”
“Oh yeah? You can’t even look at me.” I swipe the tears from my face, hating how weak I am.
“Savannah, no.” He stalks toward me.
I back up until I bump into the door. Even then, he doesn’t touch me. He only searches my face, shaking his head.
I hold my breath, refusing to inhale his familiar scent, and I try like hell not to look into the eyes I once believed were my forever. It’s nearly impossible, though. I want to sink into those depths. I want to throw myself into his arms and never let go.
“That’s not what’s happening,” he grits out. “But I’m not taking advantage of you right now. Just come home with me, baby girl.”
My heart cracks in two. “Home? I have no fucking home. And I never have. Not with my mom or the joke of a father who never wanted me. Then you told me to leave. You sent a fucking text message. Not sure my mom was right when she told me I would have been better off if you’d been my father.
Doesn’t matter, though. You’re not, so if you don’t want to touch me, then get out so someone else can take their turn putting their hands on—”
He cups a hand over my mouth, his irises so dark they blend in with his pupils in the terrible lighting, looking like black holes of anger.
“Fuck. That,” he forces out through gritted teeth.
“No one is putting a finger on you unless they want it broken. And we both know I’m nothing like either of your parents.
Maybe I woulda been a better father than that asshole, but baby girl, I’m not.
So no, I’m not disgusted that you’re Tara’s daughter.
She ruined enough of my life already. I won’t let her ruin this too.
You are mine, Savannah. Mine. And you do have a home.
” His voice cracks on the last word. “With me. Please, baby girl, just come home with me.”
“Stop calling me that.” Tears stream down my face. I want to believe him. So badly. But when I needed him the most, he turned his back on me. He disappeared. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Everyone’s worried about you. Everyone loves—”
This time I’m the one who holds up a hand to stop him from speaking. I can’t hear him tell me he loves me. That anyone does.
And he didn’t answer my question. How did he…
It hits me then, and my heart sinks. Josie. I didn’t tell her what I was doing, but during our conversation tonight, I think she figured it out. “Wow, she really stabbed me in the back, huh? Were you there when she called me?”
“Savannah, please,” he rasps, his eyes filling with tears. “Please let me explain. Please give me a chance to make this right.”
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. Not trusting my stupid brain or my traitorous heart. Both want to give in. Both long for him. But I feel so betrayed. By him. By Josie. By my parents. By every single person who was supposed to be on my side.
“Please go,” I whisper, dragging my gaze to the floor.
He drops his forehead to mine, but I close my eyes to shut him out.
“I will get you back, baby girl.” He ducks, forcing me to look at him, his blue eyes haunted and desperate. “I will make this up to you. We belong together. I won’t lose you.”
Lose me. That thought gives me the strength to steel my resolve. He only dated me because of a bet. He doesn’t love me. No one does.
So I swipe the tears from my face and push away from him. “Oh yeah? Maybe we should bet on it.”