Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sloan
Iignore the sound of the text notification on my phone from where it sits on my vanity and strut out onto the stage like I own it.
The routine I'm doing is something I've choreographed and practiced in the privacy of my studio dozens of times.
I never imagined that I would be doing it for an audience in a packed club.
It's flirty and sexy and I can't wait to see the look on Dean's face when I stop in front of his table.
When I find the VIP table empty, I almost miss a step.
I quickly recover and continue my sultry dance as I glance around the club in search of Dean.
It occurs to me that he could be watching from the windows in the office, but I don't think so since I can't feel him watching me.
Not to mention, if he were going to be that far away, he would have made sure that Mac was front and center to keep an eye on me.
The men at the other tables in front of the stage wave bills in multiple denominations, trying to entice me to give them extra attention.
But despite the fact that I'm supposed to be getting close enough to hear their secrets, I can't make myself step in their direction.
The safety I was expecting from knowing that Dean would be watching is absent.
It's all I can do to keep the flirty grin on my face as I force myself through the first song until I lower myself into a crouch as it ends.
As planned, the lights on stage go dark between songs, hiding me from view while I can still see the rest of the club.
My eyes dart from the tables to the bar to the blacked-out windows of Dean's office.
When they finally make it to the entrance, I see Mac walking in with a scowl as he stalks his way through the club until he's sitting at the table in front of me.
I let out a sigh of relief that's short-lived when I glance up to see Dean walking through the club with a giant right behind him.
I thought Dean and Mac were big men, but this guy makes them look as small as me.
I watch as they take the two remaining seats at the VIP table just as the spotlight illuminates me as the second song in my set starts.
When Dean nods with a grin that doesn't meet his eyes, I rise with the intro of my next song.
I let myself feel the music and fall into the dance more easily, knowing that Dean is within reach.
But with each turn I make, I see more and more scary looking dudes littering the club.
I notice two different emblems emblazoned on the leather vests they wear, and it doesn’t escape me that they seem to be rivals of some kind.
Because they glare at each other as much as they ogle me.
When one of them with a shaggy blond ponytail approaches the stage, Dean rises from his seat to stand next to him. I see the cruel glint in his eyes that I remember so well from college, but even though he's watching me, I know it's not directed at me.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, my dance takes me to the edge of the stage where they stand. I let muscle memory take over my movements as I eavesdrop on their hushed conversation.
“That's a fine piece of ass, D,” the blond says as his eyes rake over my body menacingly.
It makes my skin prick with fear, knowing that this is exactly the kind of customer I was hired to entertain. He's the kind of guy who will have the information we're trying to find, or he knows where to get it. Either way, my dance isn't just for fun anymore. I'm officially on the job.
“She's better than any of the bitches you offered me,” Dean chuckles darkly. “It's a shame I had to ride two towns away to find a piece worth hitting twice.”
I don't let his words sting. He warned me to expect this. His crass words. His cold persona. So, instead, I preen with the compliment it's meant to be. I exaggerate the roll of my hips, drawing both men's eyes to my bare waist.
“She for sale?” the stranger asks as his fingers twitch like he's imagining what he could do to my body.
“No,” Dean barks before clenching his hands into fists as he says, “You can pay for a private dance, but you can't touch.” When the man scoffs, Dean shrugs. “Club rules. Take it or leave it.”
Before he can respond, another man with a different logo on his vest joins them in front of me. He's bigger than the blond man, but not as big as Dean. He has a red military haircut and a deep scar along his jaw making him look intimidating, but for some reason, he's not as scary as the other man.
“This is some place you've built,” the redhead says as he watches me dance.
“Too bad it's the middle of a shithole,” the blond scoffs, making the other man whip his head around Dean to glare at him.
“We're taking up real estate where my dancer could be making me money,” Dean says as he takes a step back, urging the bikers to follow him. “So, if you assholes ain't gonna break bread, take your asses back to the bar to watch the show.”
Dean's eyes meet mine and he winks as the other two men stalk off in the direction of the bar. He retakes his seat at the center table just as the song ends and the stage lights go dark.
By the time the first notes of my final song chime through the sound system, I'm in position, looking out at the fully packed club.
It's not the packed auditorium I used to dream about when I was a little girl.
But the woman I've grown to be appreciates the diverse crowd.
That hint of danger I crave is in abundance, and I can feel the tension between the opposing gangs even as they watch the stage.
The club is open for one hour after my performance and the other dancers will alternate the stage like they did earlier in the night, while the rest of us work the floor to engage with the customers.
I chose Nasty Dancer by Kilo Ali as my final song because I want the men to want me.
I want them to imagine me doing whatever they want me to do.
I won't even pretend that I'm not excited about driving Dean a little crazy as I offer lap dances to other men.
I end my performance dancing on the VIP table as Dean watches me with a mixture of lust and pride. When the song ends, Dean stands and grabs my waist before sitting with me straddling his lap as he takes my mouth in a heated kiss, clearly marking his territory.
“Don't forget who you belong to while you’re dancing for these fuckers,” he rasps when he breaks the kiss. “You're mine!”
“I'm yours,” I say, knowing he needs to hear it.
“Good girl. Now, go make me some money.” He gives me that evil grin as he stands to set me on my feet before smacking my ass.