Page 2 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)
CHAPTER TWO
VIVIAN
Why have a crush when you can stab yourself in the face instead?
Present Day: Early October
T here’s a man’s massive, muscular thigh pressed against my face as I grunt and breathe heavily. I wish that were as sexy as it sounds, but I’m just helping one of the new burlesque dancers get his boots on before our show.
“What am I always telling you, guys?” I ask, more to the room than to this individual dancer.
“Boots before corset,” a room full of rowdy dancers replies.
“Ya hear that, Jaime?” Glancing up, I make eye contact with the new dancer.
“Loud and clear, Ms. Vivian,” he responds with a shy smile. His little scratch behind his neck shows his nervousness even more.
I don’t blame him for being nervous. We’ve got a sold-out Halloween-themed show tonight, and from what I’ve seen of the audience, it’s going to be a packed house.
“This is your first show, right?” I ask, and the last word of my question ends up sounding more like a cheer as I finally slip his massive boot on.
“Yeah. This is the first live show for a lot of us new guys. We’ve had a ton of practices, and your brothers have set us up well, but it’s still kinda nerve-racking.” Jaime releases a deep breath before continuing, “I’m already messing up the small stuff.” He gestures toward his thigh-high boots.
“Dude, let the costume faux pas be the least of your worries.” I start to lace up his shoes as I reply, not needing to look away from him, since this is probably the hundredth time I’ve had to help someone with their boots.
My smile stays steady, and I hope it comes off as reassuring.
“That’s what I’m here for. And honestly, if you’re not used to these types of clothes, it can be hard to figure out. Trust me.”
“Thank you. I can tie the top strings on my own if you’re okay with that, Ms. Vivian,” Jaime comments, bending down as much as he can and getting to work on the top strings.
While these guys are all built like brick houses, a lot of them lack the flexibility to reach the boots properly, so I’m impressed when Jaime reaches the top of his thigh-high boots, even in his corset.
“That’s some good knot work,” I comment offhandedly while getting up from my kneeling position. “Also, you gotta stop calling me Ms. Vivian. I think I’m actually younger than you.”
“Oh, sorry. I heard we’re supposed to call you that,” Jaime replies, standing and looking triumphantly over his laced thigh-highs.
“Who’d you hear that from?” I ask, shooting a confused look at him. I cross my arms and pop a hip as I wait for his reply. After waiting longer than I’d like for a response, I realize he doesn’t want to answer my question.
Why—and what—is he hesitating to tell me?
It better not fucking be Alek, a protective older brother in all his glory, who told the guys to treat me differently. We’ve been over this.
Back when I first started working at The Garden of Eden, Alek had a fit over anyone who would joke around with me.
He tried scaring some of the guys into staying completely ‘cordial’ during our costume fittings and tailoring sessions.
It was awkward as hell and so not my style—I’m a yapper at heart.
I put an end to that quickly. But apparently, old dogs can forget their tricks, it seems.
“Mr. Adler told us to… stay formal with you,” Jaime finally admits, and it causes a long sigh of frustration to leave my lips. So, it’s not Alek this time.
And the Mr. Adler he’s talking about definitely isn’t Ezekiel Adler—Alek’s boyfriend—and the only Adler man I actually like at the moment.
No, it’s the boss who has been riding my ass for the last few weeks—Mr. Knight Adler, to be exact.
“Thanks for telling me, and please, despite what you’ve been told, just call me Viv from now on.” A quick pat on his forearm is all I give Jaime as a goodbye. I’ve got to deal with the latest pain in my ass now.
In the first few months I started working at the burlesque club, I had seen Knight maybe one time before he suddenly started showing up weekly and then almost daily at the club.
I don’t know a ton about him, but I do know this is only one of the arts and entertainment businesses that he owns.
So why he’s been here all month, making it his goal to micromanage me, I have no fucking idea.
I often think back to when I helped him at his gala a month or so ago. Did I do something to offend him, and now he’s hell-bent on annoying me? Does he not like me?
Honestly, his actions wouldn’t sting as much if I didn’t have this stupid crush on him.
Who gave that man the right to look so good with a mustache? I thought mustaches were out of style, but I’m somehow daydreaming about riding his.
“Where are you stomping off to?” My spicy thoughts are quickly extinguished by the voice of my brother, Alek Delgado, the lead dancer and the guy who got me an interview here all those months ago.
“Need to find Knight,” I reply curtly, not bothering to stop my pursuit of our boss.
“What now, Viv?” Alek groans, quickly catching up and walking in line with me out of the dressing room.
Abruptly stopping, I turn to face him in the middle of the hallway. I notice his corset is a little looser than it should be, so I step closer and adjust it as I speak.
“He told the new guys they should address me as ‘Ms. Vivian’ and to stay ‘professional’ with me.” I roll my eyes.
“I mean, I don’t disagree—” His breath is cut off as I accidentally pinch his corset too tight.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask with my ire now set on Alek.
I really wish he’d stop seeing me as a little girl—I’m fucking twenty-six years old now. Yes, he’s older than me by almost a decade, but that doesn’t give him the right to try to parent me like this.
“Look, I’m just saying these guys can get a little wild.”
He says it like he’s innocent of any wild behavior here, and I have to hold back a snort. Earlier this week, he was leading a surfing competition down the concrete stairs of the backstage area because he was double-dared.
“I can handle myself just fine, Alek,” I choose to say instead.
“I know that, Viv.” Alek sighs and sets his large hands around my wrists affectionately, keeping them steady at the top of his corset.
“Well, I wish you’d act like it.” Looking down as I say it, I feel the heaviness of the last few weeks catch up to me.
Everything is quiet for a moment, and I know then that it clicks for Alek. He knows what I’ve been through in my adult life. It’s funny how technically you’re an adult at eighteen, but it’s only felt like I’ve been my own person for the last three years of my life.
“I’m sorry, Viv. I know you can handle yourself and make your own decisions.” His arms engulf me suddenly as he nearly squeezes the life out of me. Only fair for overtightening his corset, I guess.
“Alek,” I mumble into his chest and hug my brother back. My arms can barely fit around his huge frame.
“I realized how much I sounded like our parents, Viv. Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m trying to control you like they did.”
“I know, I know,” I reassure us both.
We let go of each other slowly, and I feel Alek kiss my temple before we fully part. He looks at me with a kind smile and a soft look in his eyes. It’s his signature—he’s always been the more empathetic one of the family.
“I’m not saying you need me to be there with you, but I’m happy to go talk to Knight with you. Only if you want,” Alek offers.
“Thank you, but no. I got this.” A determined tone lines my voice as I regulate myself. I need to be able to establish my presence in this place the way I want to. Not the way Alek or Knight or any other person wants me to be. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.
“Hell yeah, you do. Give him hell, babe. But also, don’t go too hard on him. I’d rather not go to an HR meeting because of this.” Alek laughs before making his way back to the dressing room. “See you backstage!”
My platform boots make an echo of steady, determined steps throughout the hallway as I continue my walk to the main office.
I’m going to find out what stick Knight has up his ass when it comes to me. Not only is this my first real job and a career of my own choosing that I’d like to continue in, thank you , but I’m also a fucking adult who can set boundaries of my own.
I’m coming for you, Mr. Mustache.