Chapter 3 #2
Giving in to the sudden impulse of taking one more look, I twist my head. Xander is glaring at Jacques like he just personally murdered his family in front of him, the defined angle of his jaw ticking.
I walk back into the dim red light of the corridor and lean against the wall, taking in a few calming breaths, trying to ignore the lingering remnants of his gaze.
The sudden realisation that I’m still thinking about him hits me when I sit in front of my cluttered desk.
When do I ever notice anyone while I’m dancing?
Never. That’s the answer.
When I’m on stage, nothing else matters but me, the music, and the pole. But he caught my attention. The way he watched me… it wasn’t drunk or leering like they always look. It was… different.
Shaking out of my thoughts, I run my fingers through the light sweat in my hair, grimacing at the feel of it.
The club provides showers, but I don’t use them.
I’d rather shower in the comfort of my own home.
All the interior in this club is decorated to the highest standard—it’s a luxury gentlemen’s club, after all.
They have the highest security for the staff and dancers, too.
Which is why working here gives me peace of mind.
I may have got this job as easy money to pursue my dream of opening my own dance studio one day, but I had my conditions for where I wanted that to be.
Diamond Lounge was the perfect place; I fell in love with the interior instantly, and I knew this is where I could see myself.
Though, I still remember standing outside this very building, staring at the intricate, swirly carving of the bricks and the black and gold sign that read ‘Diamond Lounge’, rethinking my decision of attempting to even apply as a dancer here.
I felt dirty standing outside such an opulent building, scarred by the events of my past. As if they’d see right through me and reject me the second my foot stepped onto the shiny, black, marble flooring.
Deliberating if I was even making the right decision in doing this.
I was scared that when the screen opened for a performance, I’d see his face in all the clients’ faces, and I’d give up.
But when I pulled open the door and the smell of old smoke from the night before hit my nose, I knew it was the right decision.
I feel safer here than I do outside of this club, knowing that my ex is somewhere out there, actively looking for me.
As if on cue, my phone dings with a message, making me jump in my seat.
UNKNOWN: I’m sorry ok
UNKNOWN: I didn’t mean what I said last time. Pls call me back.
Anxiety coils around my gut like a noose as I read the messages. I knew it was too good to be true.
A whole two weeks without Luke making my life miserable.
I got a new phone last week when I shattered my old one against the wall after the persistent texts from him, and along with that, a new number. But he still manages to find a way to contact me.
I will never fucking escape him. Wherever I go, whatever I do, he’ll find me.
Which is why it’s easier for me to be alone. If he finds out that I’ve told anyone about him, he’ll come after them too.
Running away from him two years ago, when I plucked up the courage to, changed my life around.
I moved to London and secured my job at Diamond Lounge two weeks later.
Most jobs I applied to turned me down after seeing that my address was at a women’s refuge, but DL gave me back my hope of having my own studio one day.
One day when I’m free of Luke. Free of my old life.
But now, knowing that he’s one step closer to me has me on high alert. My anxiety is at an all-time high, and my dreams are threatened. I’m contemplating whether I should just run now while I have the chance.
Any little noise makes me jerk. Every time I see a shadow, I think it’s him.
But that studio is just out of reach, and I refuse to let a poor excuse of a man ruin that for me. So, I’ll stay. I’ll make my money, and then I’ll run. I’ll get as far away from here as possible. Maybe even out of the country.
This wasn’t the way my life was supposed to be, and I’m determined to change that.
It’s taking everything in me not to let loose the tears that are threatening to fall. My hand drifts towards my right thigh out of instinct, rubbing the lace of my stocking, where that permanent reminder of the night I ran away is.
Yanking myself out of the chair, I slide on some oversized joggers and a big t-shirt.
Fisting my bag, I dart out of the dressing room, passing the guards stationed at the back exit of the club.
“Leaving early tonight, are you?” Jayden—one of the security—asks as I brush past him and out of the back door.
I spin towards him. His slicked-back, blonde hair reflects off the street lights in the alleyway. He’s wearing his usual lopsided smile framed by a light blonde stubble. He’s an attractive guy. We slept together once, but it was a drunken night of fun; nothing past that.
He looks me up and down, and I realise how ridiculous I look in my platform heels paired with joggers.
Oh well.
“I’m knackered tonight. I need to go home and sleep,” I lie, giving him a small smile.
“You deserve it. You work hard. Have a good night, Vix.” He winks. I give him a small, awkward smile and speed-walk to my car in the parking lot opposite the road.