Chapter 39
Samantha
A trickle of sweat rolls between my breasts as I slide down the pole and let my toes touch the mat that I’ve put down for the women’s safety. They whoop and clap.
“I’ll never be able to do that,” Crystal says, hands on her hips, a big grin on her face.
“Of course you will. Come on.” I motion for her to step up to the pole.
“The laybacks feel scary, but you’ll build up to them safely, I promise.
Go on, start from the floor. Remember the grips we practiced with multiple contact points.
The different contact points give you the varied range of shapes.
Don’t think too much, just let your body flow. ”
As we watch her, Vega steps up next to me, her arms crossed. I can feel the hostility coming off her in waves. What’s she so angry about?
“The boss isn’t here today?” she asks.
I glance over at her. There’s a slight smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.
“No, he’s not.”
“Well, I hope he’s back tonight. I’ll miss slipping into the back office for our nightly fun. That man sure knows how to show a girl a good time.”
I blink, my chest squeezing. I keep my eyes locked on Crystal, but I can feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes. Nope. No. There’s no way Killian is fucking this dancer at night after he leaves me.
How does she know where he’s sleeping though? A tiny bit of doubt seeps in. It’s enough to make me nauseous and question everything. I mean, how well do I actually know Killian? We’ve never discussed being exclusive.
No, she’s just trying to get under my skin. Killian hasn’t even tried to hide our… whatever we are. He’s openly touchy-feely and possessive of me even when the club is crowded. She knows we’re together. Everyone knows we’re together. So why is she trying to convince me he’s fucking her?
I force myself to smile. “Great job, Crystal.” Then I turn to Vega and meet her eyes with a challenging glare. “You’re up, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Vega is not the most talented dancer, and I shouldn’t have spotlighted that.
Shouldn’t have sunk to her level. I realize my mistake when she falls off the pole with a hard smack on the mat while trying to invert.
Then sweaty and red-faced, she shoots me a narrow-eyed glare before she storms off.
It’s a look that says she could hurt me. Bad. I just don’t know how yet.
I’ve brought dinner into Killian’s bedroom for me and Rona tonight.
The club is packed. The chef made her favorite grilled cheese.
I have a Disney movie on the flat screen for her.
As I watch her holding her Barbie in one hand and eating the center out of the grilled cheese with the other, I try to take a deeper breath.
We’re safe. We’re safe.
There are at least twenty guards around this yacht and cameras everywhere. We’re locked in this room with a bulletproof door. Killian showed me the gun safe behind the painting, and I do know how to defend myself. No one can get to us.
I repeat that over and over in my mind like a mantra. But it’s not making me feel better. I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. I’ve never been one of those women who listened to their intuition. I never trusted myself enough. But tonight, it’s screaming at me. Something is wrong.
I text Killian: Everything ok there?
In the five minutes it takes for him to respond, I’ve convinced myself he’s dead, and I’m practically hyperventilating.
When my phone dings with his text, I sink into the bed clutching my heart.
Killian: Grand. Heading to meeting. All ok there?
No. No, all is not okay. I’m freaking out. I need you here now. But as I ground myself in reality, I can’t say any of that. Because we’re fine.
Me: All good. Miss you
Killian: Miss you too Vixen
I smile, feeling a little better from touching base with him.
“Mama, see princess!” Rona is hopping in front of the TV now, pointing at Jasmine. “Rona princess!”
Pushing off the bed, I scoop her up in my arms. I twirl us around until she’s squealing with laughter, her mouth open and stuffed with grilled cheese. “You are a princess.” I kiss the top of her head. “And don’t you ever forget that. Now chew your food.”
I stand there, just holding her in my arms, feeling her body heat, her fine hair tickling my neck. Watching her liquid brown eyes take in the magic of a Disney story.
Then there’s a gentle knock on the door and I freeze.
I stare at the door.
This is it. Whatever is on the other side of that door is the danger. I feel it, but I can’t stop it. It’s here.
I slide Rona down onto the floor. “Be right back, sweetheart.” My voice is raw. I straighten my back and go to the door. “Yes?”
“I have a letter for you,” the guard says through the door. “From one of the dancers.”
I recognize the guard’s voice. He doesn’t sound concerned or coerced. With a shaking hand, I open the door, half-expecting it to be Michael disguising his voice. But it is the guard. And he holds out a white envelope to me.
I take it. In the background I can hear the dance music pumping through the walls. “Which dancer?”
“Vega.”
I nod. Of course. “Thank you.”
I lock the door again and sit on the edge of the bed. I bend the envelope, expecting it to feel like a photo inside. A photo of her and Killian. But it’s soft like paper.
Ripping off the edge, I slip the paper out and read. My blood runs cold.
Because it’s much much worse.