Chapter 9 Ember
EMBER
Temporary insanity. It’s the only explanation I have for what happened.
Over the past week, I’ve been going over it again and again. I went there to talk. Just talk. I came directly from my run with no makeup and still in my workout clothes. It was supposed to be just a meeting. All business. It’s weird to me that it was until it wasn’t.
The worst thing is that I can’t even blame him. I wanted him. I really wanted him. It was like every ounce of attraction I’ve been denying just jumped to the surface and suddenly, I needed to fuck his brains out.
And it was good. The heaviness of his scent mixed with mine, the way he took control, and how he held me in his arms… For those few hours we were together, I felt like nothing could ever hurt me as long as I was in his embrace.
I feel like a teenage fool. It’s probably better not to think about it at all. This whole week, I’ve been avoiding him and it seems like he’s been doing the same. Our little lessons have stopped for the most part. I haven’t asked him anything and he hasn’t offered.
He also hasn’t come in but three times this week, and every time, we’ve managed to stay out of each other’s sight.
When I’m walking through the club, handling issues with the staff or sometimes the customers, he’s in his office.
Out of sight, but not out of mind. Sometimes, I feel his eyes on the back of my neck, watching me from behind that two-way mirror above me.
Tonight, I decided to spend the majority of the evening balancing our books.
We’re doing really well this month so far, thanks to the advertisement I just paid for.
Signs on the interstate have brought in an influx of truck drivers lately, and they have been paying well.
And since so many of them are middle-aged to older men, they’re less trouble on top of that.
I lean back in my chair and look at the charts I just made giving our forecast for the coming year. It’ll take some work on my part, but this club should be able to stand on its own feet when I do resign.
It’s a shame that I’m leaving… but I have to. This game is not one that I can be secure in. Especially with Roman and his Bratva backing it. I feel like I’m twisting in the wind.
I hear yelling just outside my door. Shit. What now?
By the time I’m sticking my head out of the door, the yelling has escalated. Natasha and another girl are standing in the hallway as one of the customers stands at the door. His jacket is hanging off him and he’s got a bleary smile as he stares down at them.
“Hey, you owe me, all right?” he slurs. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that.”
What the hell? Where’s security? I step out and ask, “Is there a problem?”
He looks over their heads at me and his smile broadens. “Oh, shit. When are you coming out? That business suit shit turns me on.”
“She’s not a dancer,” says Natasha. “She’s the manager.”
I walk up to them, my mind racing. I haven’t seen Roman and Cynthia’s not here either. I peek into the dressing room to see that she’s not in her normal spot.
“Sir, you’re not supposed to be back here,” I tell the drunk.
“Ooh, sir.” He leans in and goes to touch my hair. “That’s nice, Blondie.”
I lean out of his way and say, “I’m going to have to ask you to go back—”
“Hey, I don’t know what kind of racket you bitches are running—”
“Bitches?” says Natasha. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
“You, bitch!” he says, towering over her. Shit, this is really escalating.
“Hey!” A voice booms behind me. I look over my shoulder to see Roman walking toward us. His eyes are trained on the guy and his jaw is set. Oh, boy.
He looks up at him and his drunken grin falters. “And who are you supposed to me?”
“A problem,” he says. He steps past me and fronts him off. “Especially for you if you don’t get the fuck out of here.”
Roman stands at least a foot taller than this guy. And he has to outweigh him by about a hundred pounds, at least. He steps right in front of him, looking down at him and silently daring him to act.
The customer in all his drunken courage stands up a little straighter and says, “This ain’t none of your business—”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Dead wrong.” He’s not yelling. He doesn’t even sound tense. He’s speaking in a low, even tone. “This is a restricted area. Employees only, and I don’t remember hiring you. Turn around and walk away. Now.”
“Hey, listen—”
“Choose your next words carefully,” Roman says. “Whatever you say next will decide if you’re walking out or being carried out. Either way, you are leaving this club.”
All the blood drains out of the customer’s face as Roman stares down at him. He takes a half step back and says, “All right, all right. I’m walking, okay?” He puts his hands up in defense. “No need to get hostile.”
He starts to walk away. Roman says, still watching him go, “You all right?”
“Yes,” we both say in unison.
He then walks away, following the man out of the back area. I turn to Natasha. “Are you really all right? That guy didn’t get rough with you or anything?”
She shakes her head. “It’s my fault. He was starting to talk all weird, you know?
Asking my ‘real name’ and wanting to know where I lived.
That kind of stuff.” The door opens again and Roman returns, stopping to listen as Natasha goes on.
“It happens sometimes, you know? Guys start to think that it’s more than just a fucking dance and start getting creepy.
I stopped the dance and told him he was out of line and I walked away.
I didn’t think he’d actually follow me back here.
I should have called security right off. ”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Roman says before I can. “He’s an adult. He should know better than to go around following women. You sure you’re okay?”
She nods and says, “I’m fine. Really.” Then with a disarming smile she adds, “I made enough money tonight, anyway. This is probably a sign not to get too greedy.”
Roman nods, then glances over at me. “That clown comes back—”
“I’ll tell security to watch out for him.” I pause and almost stumble over my words. “Thank you, Roman.”
He just nods and walks away. I force myself not to watch him go.
“Wow,” Natasha says. “He swept in like Superman. Kind of hot.”
“He’s just doing his job,” I say.
“He did it better than Omar ever did.”
I can’t deny that. I had a harder time chasing out the riff-raff when he was around because he had a tendency to hide in his office unless I physically went to get him.
“What’s going on with you lately?” she asks me. I blink at her dumbly.
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. This whole week you’ve been… weird, I guess. Both you and the boss have been weird, actually. You two have some kind of fight or something after hours?”
I have no idea how to answer that. I stammer for a second, then clear my throat. “We’re both just busy doing our jobs. That’s all.”
She narrows her eyes a little at me.
“Tash—”
“So, a week ago, you came to my apartment all frantic because you thought were being followed. You also said you were going to quit,” she says.
“You told me that you were going to tell him and then that was it. Here we are a week later and you’re still here.
And you two have been avoiding each other like the plague.
What gives? Did he threaten you or something? ”
I wish. That would be easier to explain. “No,” I say to her. She’s going to keep needling me about this. “Come here.” I take her by the arm and pull her toward my office.
I pull her in and close the door, leaning against it like an anchor. She stares at me wide-eyed with a cautious smile. “Okay, now you’re scaring me a little, Em. What the hell happened? Did he actually threaten you?”
“No, he hasn’t,” I repeat. “But something did happen… and I need you to keep quiet about it. Nobody can know, Tash. And I mean nobody.”
“All right,” she says. “What is it?”
I pause. Natasha has always kept my secrets. I’ve never known her to go blabbing around about the things we talk about. But this wasn’t like the other stuff. If anybody finds out about what happened between me and Roman…
“I mean it, Tash,” I say. “You really can’t talk about this.”
She crosses her arms, her smile dropping. “Now I’m getting scared. What did he do to you?”
I sigh. “Nothing I didn’t want.” She cocks her head. “We… had sex.”
“What?”
“I know.”
“How the fuck did that even happen?”
“I don’t know. One minute we were talking and the next, he had me heels to Jesus on the couch up there.”
Her eyes dart upward, in the direction of his office. “You fucked Roman Orlov here? In his office?” Her voice is raised. I rush over to her and shush her.
“Hey, keep your voice down,” I tell her. “And… and yes. We fucked, had sex, whatever.”
She pauses, her eyes wild with questions. “Wow,” she whispers, then she leans into me. “How was he?”
“That’s not exactly the point.”
“Oh, I think it is. If he was terrible, that would definitely be something King Bratva up there wouldn’t want to get out.”
“He was good. Great, actually,” I say. “It was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”
She covers her mouth, stifling a giggle. “You really fucked a Bratva boss.”
“It wasn’t on purpose. I mean, it was, but…” I groan and turn away. How can I possibly explain myself?
“But wait, what’s the problem? Why is this a secret? Is he married?”
I hadn’t even thought of that. My stomach tightens instantly at the prospect.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Look, it just shouldn’t have happened.
If people find out we had sex, it’ll invalidate me.
People will think I’m only here because I fucked the boss.
” I sigh, the heart of the matter right in front of me.
“The thing is, he convinced me to stay on for another three months.”
“Holy shit,” she says. “You are the last person I ever thought would get dickmatized by some guy. It must be made of gold.”
“It’s not. And for the record, I do not want to talk about the details of what happened, okay? This whole thing is embarrassing enough.”
She purses her lips. “You must be pretty pissed about that whole thing in the hallway, huh?”
I start to answer, the ‘yes’ right on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself. Of all the emotions I’m feeling about what just happened, anger isn’t one of them. I close my mouth, taking a few seconds to analyze.
“Em?” she asks. “You are pissed at him, right?”
“No,” I tell her. “That’s weird, right?”
“I mean…” She sort of stammers, then, “Why aren’t you mad?”
I don’t have an answer for her. She’s right. I should be angry. He came in and did what I should have been able to do.
But whether or not that guy saw me as an authority figure, if things had gotten physical, I wouldn’t be able to stop him from hurting Natasha. Or I’d have a harder time at it. Roman, on the other hand…
“I don’t know. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet,” I say. “It doesn’t matter, honestly, though. I’ll be out of here in three months. As long as we keep out of each other’s way, things should be fine.”
“Right,” she says. “Let’s hear it for Superman keeping us safe and Superwoman for keeping us in the black.”
I nod with a smile. Thank goodness for that.
The rest of the night went on as it usually does. I spent most of it in my office, just trying to stay out from under Roman’s watchful eye.
I’m still confused by how he makes me feel. Maybe it’s just that he’s supposed to be the bad guy. He’s the boogeyman my father tried to warn me about for years. The big bad that I was deathly afraid would take him away from me… and eventually did. It was a man like him who left me fatherless.
So. Why didn’t I mind that he stepped in and chased that guy off tonight?
I will probably never say this out loud, but I feel a little safer when he’s around.
And I can see the same kind of relaxed energy from all the dancers when he is here.
I don’t understand it. Then again, I don’t fully understand why I slept with him, either.
Well. I do understand it on a carnal level. He’s a beautiful man and it’s been a while since I’ve been properly laid.
All these thoughts go through my mind as I make my final checks of the night. The few dancers who came in for a couple of hours close to closing have left. The bartenders have cleaned up their stations and are long gone. The DJ’s gone, the chairs are up on the tables, and I’m alone.
I glance up at the mirrored glass overlooking the club. Well… maybe not completely alone.
“Looking for me?”
I turn to see Roman walking up to me. He looks so business casual tonight in his dress shirt and slacks. His short dark hair is getting a little long on the sides. He’s due for a haircut, it looks like.
I turn away from him, focusing on getting the last chair on the table. “I was just wondering if you had left,” I say. He’s close enough now to where I pick up his scent. Sweet, musky… with a hint of his sweat.
“We made out pretty nicely tonight,” he says. “This place is going to miss you when you’re gone.”
I glance up at him and see that he’s smiling. “Yeah, well, it is what it is.”
“What are you going to do after you’re gone from here?” he asks. “You never did finish your lessons with me.”
Lessons. He makes it sound so formal. “I don’t know,” I confess. “Maybe I’ll… take a class instead.”
“There are cheaper options.”
I tilt my head. He’d still teach me? That’s… unexpected. “I’ll think about it,” I say. I step away and add, “Are you going to be here any longer? I need to lock up.”
“I’ll handle that,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. If you want, I can walk you out to your car.”
“No, thank you.” I say it quickly. Almost too quick. I think I tripped over part of my words. I clear my throat. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. See you.”
I walk away and I can feel his eyes on my ass.
I step out into the cool evening air and pull the collar of my jacket up. It smells like rain again… but no rain yet. Thank goodness. My hair—
A car pulls up in front of me and I jump back. A long, black luxury car that looks like it’s just been freshly cleaned. I go to walk around it, but the back window rolls down. A woman with short, dark red hair smiles at me.
“Ember Lorenzo?” she asks.
I freeze. Uh-oh. “Yes?”
She pulls out her badge. In this light, I can’t make out the finer details, but along the top, I see the letters FBI in bold print.
“I need you to come with us, please.”