Chapter 51
Camila
Xander knows I’m here. No doubt he’s probably going out of his mind. One, for my safety. And two, he knows I’m going to be going on stage. Jacques has been doing a very good job of keeping him away so far.
Tonight, I want to show Xander just how all in I actually am. Give him the consolation he seeks. I want to help him heal from the trauma he’s endured, just like he’s doing for me, whether he knows it or not.
While Xander was recovering from his injuries, I went on a little shopping trip. It was the first time in a long while that I spent money on something other than my apartment or Obsidian.
I brought a more modest stripper outfit for tonight and a surprise for Xander. Which I’m hoping I haven’t totally messed up. I’ve never really bought a gift for anyone before. Only my mum when I was little, so this is all new territory to me.
Corrine waltzes into the dressing room, her short, purple gown undone and floating behind her. She stops dead in her tracks when she spots me pulling my glittery, forest green corset over my chest. Folding her arms over her chest, she cocks her hip.
I smile, grabbing the matching green stockings from my chair and beginning to slide them over my legs.
“A little birdy told me it’s your last day,” she says.
“It is.”
I pull the other stocking over the scar on my leg, grazing it gently and smiling when I remember the way Xander kissed it soothingly, his warm lips like a remedy.
Corrine’s lips purse, her eyes scrunching in the corners as I clip the stocking to the garter.
She blows out a breath and mini-runs the last few steps to me, embracing me.
“I’m going to miss you,” she sighs, squeezing me harder.
“You’ll still see me,” I laugh, but then I realise that I might have no choice but to tell her about me and Xander.
“What do you mean?” She pulls away, resting her hands on my shoulders.
“Me and Xander… We’re—”
“I knew it,” she gasps.
“What?” I recoil.
She steps away, peeling off her cover-up. “Girl, everyone is whispering about you two. Have you not heard?”
I stare at her dumbfounded. “Considering I haven’t been around recently, no…”
She tsks. “There have been whispers for months. Xander never shows up, then bam, he’s here nearly every night and only watches your set.”
“And these rumours have been going on how long?”
She shrugs. “A few months.”
I groan as I slide on a short, leather skirt over the top of the bodysuit, along with a long-sleeve top to cover myself up.
“What are you doing?” There’s confusion in her voice.
I check myself out in the wall mirror, spinning to get a look at the bit of bum peeking out from under the skirt.
Perfect.
I want to test him, but I don’t want to push him too much.
“You minx.”
The boom of the music carries from the main floor, the quiet chatter and giggling from the girls filling the room—and I soak it all in.
For the final time.
“Good luck.” Corrine winks before I hug her one more time. Then, taking a deep breath and admiring myself in the mirror, I make my way to the back of the stage, where the crowd is already rowdy.
The tech guy smiles at me, as if he too knows that this is the last time I’ll be on the stage.
But this doesn’t feel as constraining as I thought it would. It feels liberating—giving myself over to someone willingly. That someone being Xander.
All The Time by Jeremih floods through the speakers, and the screen lifts slower than usual—just like I asked.
From this angle, I can already see Xander tensely sitting in the middle chair in front of the stage. Jacques is next to him, an amused smile resting on his face as he watches Xander.
The screen rises fully, and Xander’s eyes are locked on mine.
Filled with fury. Just as expected.
But he’s as still as a statue as Jacques smacks him on the arm, finding this entire situation amusing.
There are no other chairs around the stage. Just Xander’s, with Jacques perched on the armrest. Everyone else occupies tables and VIP booths further away. Jacques’ ordered it that way, like I asked him to.
I begin my slow walk up to the pole, a small smile playing on my lips as I mimic the routine I danced when Xander first laid eyes on me. Only more covered up.
Xander’s shirt looks like it’s about to rip open with how his chest heaves, fingers pressed to his jaw, nostrils flaring, and the whisky glass in his hand close to shattering.
This is torture for him.
I make a show of grinding, touching, and shaking my ass. All the while maintaining eye contact with Xander. Jacques has a smirk plastered on his face, but he keeps his attention focused on his phone as Xander squirms in his seat.
My chest burns with the satisfaction of him wanting to rip me off the stage, knowing that he can’t. He knows this is a test.
The song ends. No money flies in the air, but the crowd cheers. Less rowdier than before. Also Jacques’ orders.
I lock my eyes onto Xander before sauntering off stage, soaking in the last of the cheers.
My heart races as I sit on the edge of the bed inside DL with my green bodysuit now on display, the low hum of music from the main floor of the club still prominent.
City lights illuminate the room, accompanied by the low glow of the viridian light above the pole Xander had installed for me.
Have I pissed him off?
Why isn’t he coming up?
A bitter taste forms in my throat, squeezing at me. I thought this would help us move forward. Maybe dancing on stage in front of everyone was a grave mistake. Maybe I did take it too far.
The chains rattle in my hands as my leg bounces nervously, the metal now warm from how long I’ve been clutching it in my hands.
Then the handle to the bedroom clicks open, and my heart stutters. Xander’s formidable frame steps into the room, locking the door behind him. With only the green glow, it’s hard to make out any of his features, but the weight of his gaze on me is always luculent.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and strolls towards the poll. There are no hurried movements. I’m sure you can hear the thundering of my heart in this room that suddenly feels too small. He steps up onto the low platform and leans against the pole.
This is it. He’s going to tell me to get out and never show my face here again. I’ll be back to my old life and on the run from Luke. Just when I finally had hope that this nightmare was going to end soon.
“Quite the show, Angel,” he comments, his voice a low growl, but his posture is anything but tense.
Somehow, his nonchalant tone slows my heart rate, bringing the familiarity of him back. But I don’t know if I’m in the clear yet.
I clear my throat. “I’m sor—”
“Do you remember what I told you about watching you dance in front of all those people?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He hums, his head dropping against the pole. “Fucking. Delightful.”
My chest drops on a short exhale. “What?”
“You.”
That one simple word is all it takes for me to get my thoughts and plan back on track.
Such a simple word that shouldn’t mean shit. But when it comes from Xander, it’s everything and more.
A gradual grin grows on my lips. He pushes off the pole, but I stand immediately, my platform heels adding a bit of height and confidence. He halts.
He’s not in control yet.
I let the chains dangle from my hands, and drag along the floor as I make my way over to him.
His face becomes more visible as I approach.
I take his hand, placing the chain in his palm.
He watches me intensely as I do the same to his other hand.
Looking up at him again, his eyes flick between the lengthy chains before landing on me.
“You did so well out there,” I coo, running my finger over the buttons of his half-open shirt.
“Oh, fuck,” he laughs, dropping his head forward, and the sound of that lands straight in my core, causing heat to gather.
As much as I would love control, Xander has given me a sanctuary to submit fully. To be controlled in a loving way. This job has given me back what was once missing from me, but now I want to give it over to him.
“You want to control me?” I start. “Fine. This is me giving you the control you need.” I breathe out shakily.
His eyes hold an element of surprise for a second—then chains clatter on the laminate platform, and he’s on me, hand wrapped around my neck, leading me backwards towards the bed.
The back of my knees hits the bed, and I fall on my back before I lift myself up to my elbows.
He stands in front of me, hair messy and shirt open, the outline of his gun in his pocket.
Pride swells within me that he was able to control himself, despite what his mind was telling him to do.
“Do your worst, Xander,” I taunt—that depraved side of me showing its face again. The side that only Xander can make me feel safe exposing.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmurs, leaning his fists either side of me, face so close that I can feel stubble around his lips scratching at mine. There’s slight hesitation in his voice. As if I still have yet to see the worst of him.
“I do,” I breathe, my tongue darting out to lick along his bottom lip. “There’s nothing you could do that would scare me off.” I repeat the words he once said to me because it’s the truth.
What he did in the past is the worst he could’ve done. Yet, I’m still here.
His mouth meets mine in a kiss of possession, tongue entangling with mine.
“I’m giving myself over to you,” I whisper through interrupted kisses.
He growls, hand wrapping around my neck and pressing the pressure points, causing an immediate woozy feeling in my head.
I moan into his mouth, my hips moving on their own accord, seeking friction from the buttons of my bodysuit.
“You feel that?”
I moan again, my heels finding purchase in a small gap between the bedframe and the mattress.
“This is what it felt like watching you up there. Like I was losing my goddamn mind.”
His hand tightens, making it a fraction harder to breathe.