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“You’re on in ten.”

Cambri poked her head inside my dressing room.

“Wait. What?”

“Star caught some stomach bug and was puking in the bathroom. She insisted on going on stage anyway, but Boss said no. Sent her home. So you’re up.”

I returned my attention to the mirror and slipped in a contact lens. “I don’t know that I’ll be ready in time. You can have her slot. I don’t mind.”

“Not tonight, babe.”

Cambri pushed the door open the rest of the way and cheerfully twirled in a 360, showing off her barely-there outfit. A hot pink G-string, the thickness of dental floss clung to her skin, leaving nothing to the imagination both in front and back, while clusters of jewels served as pasties. She often danced fully nude. The woman was smoking, so it was no surprise when some of the most elite patrons vied for her attention and showered her with cash.

That being said, she never turned down the opportunity for extra earnings. But judging by her chipper demeanor, it was obvious she’d been requested for a second floor private.

Wealthy men from around the country, some even from overseas, spent an ungodly amount for one hour with the girl of their choosing. Depending on the package, one involved touching, while the other was forbidden.

I’d never accepted a request. I knew my limits. Alone in a room where a man was too drunk or high to accept the word no was too great of a temptation—a disaster waiting to happen.

“A rich Russian prick has summoned me,” she said, leaning in and touching up her liner. “But I have a few minutes if you need my help.”

I nodded and let the silky white robe slide off my shoulders. “Please.”

“Of course.”

Cambri pressed a kiss to my temple and scooped the hair from my back. I twisted it into a bun as she prepared the airbrush kit. The soft hiss and cool puffs of concealer tickled my back just a moment later as she worked to cover the scars.

The music’s bass thumped in my chest, and I took one last sweeping glance at the crowd seated around the angular stage. Closing my eyes, I drifted to the place in my mind where nothing could touch me, where reality faded, and I was in control.

Their voices echoed just beyond reach as I kicked up and circled the pole, legs over my head, climbing higher, a knee hooked around the cold metal. Cheers threatened to break through my walls when I straddled my legs, giving the sea of patrons precisely what they wanted.

Just enough.

I’d yet to go fully nude. Lorenzo hadn’t pushed the subject, but Luca had all but demanded it. I managed to stave him off long enough for Santino to take over, though I wondered if he’d also attempt to force my hand. Something told me his views were more in line with his uncle’s way of running a business—happy employees are loyal ones—but maybe that was wishful thinking, as I was sure Santino was no different than the swath of horny men in this room.

Slithering through my concentration, I focused on a strange charge tugging me by an invisible spark of electricity.

Among the veil of the dark venue, my eyes connected with the man I’d seemingly conjured in my thoughts. The mask over my eyes shadowed my line of sight, so I knew he wasn’t aware of my perusal from that distance. But as I continued the performance, I realized I was no longer lost in my head. To my surprise, Santino’s face was my new focal point. The world slipped away again, and it was just him and me in a room thick with smoke and flashing lights, where tingles of energy buzzed beneath my skin as I curated my routine to the steel features fixated on me from across the room.

Every twirl and twist around the pole, every swing and undulation of my hips, were guided by the heat in his gaze.

I felt it, breathed it, burned it to memory.

For the first time, I didn’t have to hide in the pockets of my mind…and the feeling was exhilarating.

When the last note closed, I was on my knees, chest heaving, surrounded by silence for the next two breaths until a chorus of whistles, hollers, and claps rang out from the crowd of patrons I’d forgotten were even there.

Bills rained down around me like confetti at a Times Square ball drop.

I realized I was smiling when a dull ache in my cheeks became nearly unbearable. But the moment fizzled as I locked eyes with my new boss, and there wasn’t a trace of pride, or a smile, or even a fucking job well done on the hard lines of his face.

Humiliation prickled my neck as I rose to my feet and backed into a dark hallway.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Hugging my body, I stalked toward my dressing room, so disoriented that I walked into a wall.

“Fuck.”

Only the wall had a pair of arms, and they gripped me, steadying me before I stumbled backward onto my ass.

Santino.

“You okay?”

His fingertips were like a touch of fire, and I wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing.

Moving out of his reach, I nodded. “Watch where you’re going.”

He released a cynical chuckle. “Me? You’re the one plowing through this corridor.”

“So you saw me coming?” I asked, squaring my shoulders while the memory of his reaction to my performance fueled my rage. “You let me bump into you on purpose?”

“No. You came around that corner like you stole something.” A flash of red from the lounge glittered across his dark eyes, highlighting the intensity behind them. “But maybe you did.” He stepped forward.

And his jugular suddenly begged to be drained. Every instinct inside me screamed to react with violence or back away, but for unknown reasons, I stood firm, facing off with the man who had my emotions in a whirlwind.

“Excuse you?”

The corner of his mouth tipped to a grin. “The show, preziosa …You stole the show. Hear them calling for more?”

It was then the chants for an encore reached me, but I couldn’t focus on their voices.

What had he called me?

“It was good.”

I noted the strained look on his face. Was he lying?

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t seem all that thrilled from where I was standing.”

Another cheeky smirk.

“Were you looking for me?”

“It’s a little hard to miss that inflated head of yours.”

Santino’s laugh shook his chest. “I won’t even argue with that one.”

“Figures,” I said, trying desperately to hold back the smile creeping across my lips. As much as I wanted to detest his arrogance, I found myself strangely amused. “I’m heading home for the night.”

“I’ll have your winnings sent to your room,” he assured me as I started down the hall. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, Amara.”

I kept moving without a second glance, but much like our moment on stage, I felt his eyes on me…and maybe, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t experience the usual pricks of anxiety that came with the presence of a strange man at my back.