Page 39 of Dancing with the Devil

“Look at you being a gentleman,” she teased. “I’ll have a dirty martini,” she finally answered me.

I shifted my attention over to Antonio. His answer was surprisingly vague.Bourbon. “Bourbon.”

“Do you ever order anythingotherthan Bourbon?” I finally questioned, tossing the rag over my shoulder, and he gave his head a slight shake. “Why?” The simple word made me sound way more interested than I actually was.

“I’m a man who knows what he likes,” he lowered his tone, and heat rushed up my neck. I slipped him a casual hum as I got to making their drinks.

“Hey,bella?” Giovanni grabbed my attention, and I turned to face him. “I gotta go,” he almost apologetically said, looking down at his cell phone. “I’m sorry, I’ll miss your performance.”

“Gio, it’s okay,” I assured him. “You’ve watched every single one of my performances. Missingonewon’t be the end of the world.”

“It will be the end ofmyworld,” he heavily sighed, and I chuckled

“Go. It’s okay.”

“Can I leave a tip?”

“No,” I waved him off. “You don’t even know if tonight’s performance will be good,” I shook my head.

“Like you said,” he got up, digging into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ve watched every single one of your performances, and I know you never disappoint.”

I thanked him, and he leaned forward, kissing my cheek before tossing a few hundreds on the countertop and leaving before I could protest.

I smiled, shaking my head at him as I gathered the notes before slipping them into my back pocket.

“You’re a dancer?”

My head snapped to the blonde Antonio came with, and I simply nodded. I turned until she spoke again. “Yeah, I can tell,” she muttered under her breath.

I faced her with confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I was just saying that I can tell you’re a dancer,” she replied, feigning innocence. Her eyes held a challenge, but it was her lucky night. The club was too packed for me to waste my time on her. Though, it took everything inside of menotto say anything.

I got to finishing up their drinks, placing both down in front of them.

I turned to another customer, taking her order. After going through a million orders behind the bar, I walked over to one of my tables when some guy called me over. We talked, and as I turned to leave, someone bumped into me, spilling their drink all over my chest.

“What the fuck!” I groaned, looking down at my shirt then up at him.

“Sorry,” he grinned—clearly not sorry—as his eyes lingered on my chest. I pulled my wet shirt over my head and I wiped the sticky alcohol off of my chest.

Walking behind the bar, I crouched down, grabbing an extra shirt.

“When did this become a whore house?” London asked and I stood up with both shirts in my hand.

“The minute you walked in,” I snapped back and we both chuckled. “Some guy walked into me,” I explained.

“Probably because his eyes were where they weren’t supposed to be,” she grabbed my ass, passing by me.

“Hilarious!” I called out to her and she blew me a kiss.

“Can I get a refill?”

I stopped walking as the blonde spoke up. With a deep breath in, I turned and she pulled her burgundy lips into a tight grin, holding up the empty glass.

“Sure,” I forced a smile. I grabbed her glass, making her a new drink that I almost slammed onto the counter.She seriously couldn’t wait until I changed my shirt?

“Thanks,” she winked, looking at my neck, then tilted her head to the side with false concern. “Everything okay?”