Page 173 of Dancing with the Devil

“My father tried ending this century-long family feud,” I slightly tilted head to the side. “But you just couldn’t put your pride aside, could you?”

He nervously tapped his finger on the table, and I couldn’t help but feel satisfied as I watched the sweat drip down the side of his face. His daughter. His pride and joy. His one, true weakness.

And now, she was mine. Mine to take and mine toown.

Distraught music came from upstairs, and the corner of my mouth twitched into a grin. “Is that her?” I asked, and he nodded. “What is she doing?”

“She’s always listening to music in her room,” he confessed. “She dances too, but just for fun.”Interesting. The chair screeched as I pushed it back, standing up.

“Please, Antonio. Don’t do this—she’s my little girl,” he begged, grabbing my arm.

She had just turned twenty-two a couple of months ago. She wasfarfrom little.

“You’re begging to lose that hand, aren’t you?”

Fear—mixed with sadness—grew in his eyes as he hesitantly let go. “You can’t compare money to a human being. Take something else, just—just don’t take her,” he pleaded. “You can kill me just don’t, take her.” He was desperate. He should be.

“Careful,” I humorously said. “I might just kill you and take her either way.”

The hatred and anger in his eyes were unmissable.

The wooden floorboards creaked underneath my feet as I made my way to the bottom of the stairs, but he stopped me.

“Wait!”

Taking a deep breath in, I stopped walking.What the fuck does he want now?

“Tell her I’m not home,” he softly said. “Just say I went for donuts. She’ll understand,” he said and I turned back to see him lowering his head.

“You won’t even try fighting for her?” I questioned and he slowly lifted his head.

“You think I’m stupid?” he seethed. “If I resist, you’ll only end up punishing her more, and—and I can’t let my little girl go through any more of that.” Good fucking point.

Ignoring his sentimental episode, I made my way upstairs and finally stopped in front ofherbedroom.

Twisting the doorknob, I slowly pushed he door open, and I felt my chest rise before heavily falling. There she is.

I didn’t lose track of her movements.

I watched as she owned the pole, dancing on it as if she had been doing it her whole life.

I watched the muscles in her legs flex, wrapping effortlessly around the pole. She spun around, holding the biggest smile on her face as she changed positions.

She kept her toes pointed at all times, swinging her legs in the air like it was child’s play.

The core strength she must have.

I’ve seen many women dancing on a pole, but the way she danced… it could send any man in a trace.

With only one hand on the pole, she spun around graciously—like gravity wasn’t even a thing—and slowly came down from the pole. She was…breathtaking.

“Jesus Christ!” she gasped.

“Oh, don’t stop on my accountsweetheart.” I almost grinned in amusement. I wanted to see her dance some more.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off her little body. She wore tights that gave her ass the perfect fucking shape and her goddamn tits—fuck me.

My eyes landed on her neck where her hair stuck to her skin with bits of sweat. I watched her face grow redder by the second and she licked her lips at least five times in the last minute. Her perfectly round lips.