On The Ropes (9 page)

I
didn’t want
to go back to the club. Like, to the pit of my stomach, to the soles of my feet didn’t want to ever walk through those doors again.

But I’d promised Nancy I would cover for her, and I couldn’t back out now. So I would go armed and prepared, and then I would give my notice and that would be it.

I’d be done with that place, and all of the men who frequented it.

I just didn’t expect to be shanghaied outside my very own apartment building. I should have, but I didn’t.

Halfway down the block, the same route I took to the subway two nights a week when I had to head into the club, I noticed the Escalade. It wasn’t surprising that it was parked on my street, since Gio had been inside at the dinner thing. What was surprising was that the lights were on and the engine was idling.

And when I say surprising, I mean not at all, if I’d even given it a second thought. As if I truly believed he’d allow me to go to work under my own steam and without an escort. It wasn’t like I was an adult or anything, who happened to have a mini tape recorder she used for class in her bustier and a can of pepper spray and a set of throwing stars in my purse.

Mia would never notice the stars were gone. Probably. She was the one who’d taught me how to use them, so it was only fitting I’d borrowed hers.

This time, if anyone tried to push me, I would take action. That sick exhibitionist side of myself that had found some kind of shameful thrill in being laid out in front of those men and claimed had been put to rest.

If they tried it again, I’d be claiming someone’s balls.

Briefly, I considered walking past the truck as if I didn’t see it. Good luck with him following me down into the subway. Then annoyance got the better of me and I stalked up to the passenger window to rap on the glass.

He rolled down the window, cocked an eyebrow.

“Why aren’t you inside?”

“Why aren’t you?” he countered, letting his gaze drop to my attire. I wasn’t wearing anything scandalous…that he could see.

In deference to the cool October night—and the fact that I was wearing a tiny halter dress that barely contained my boobs and my other bits—I had on a short, belted trenchcoat, patterned tights and knee high boots. The only way I’d made it out of the house without getting the third degree was because Mia had been occupied playing some video game with Fox and Jenna, who’d been cheering both of them on. That was Jen. Never liked to pick sides.

Eventually, Mia would look up and realize she hadn’t paid much attention to my hurried “gotta go, see ya, bye!” and I’d get a text, asking if I’d be home tonight. Which, of course, I would be, because where else would I go?

Not to Gio’s, though he was eyeing me like a steak that had been grilled to perfection, and he couldn’t wait to dig in.

“What’re you wearing?” His voice sounded like sanded glass, all gritty and rough.

“This is called a coat.” I held up my foot. “These are known as boots.”

“You better have fucking underwear on under there, or we’re going to have a problem.”

I couldn’t help the shiver that went through me. Absolutely couldn’t. But I managed not to do anything but smile. “Good thing you won’t know either way, now will you?”

“You’re going to dance tonight, aren’t you?”

Glancing away, I crossed my arms. Up the street, a cluster of guys were huddling near the entrance of the bodega. That made me shiver too, for a whole other reason.

I hated that I was afraid now. That I’d put myself in a position to be harmed. That I was doing it again, out of duty or spite or stubbornness. Or just plain stupidity.

“Carly.”

His gentle tone brought my gaze back to his. But I didn’t speak.

He let out a breath and slowly, carefully, wrapped his long, blunt-tipped fingers around the wheel. Looking at those hands made me ache. They were capable of such violence, and such beauty when they touched me. And I hated not knowing if I’d ever have them on me again.

I shouldn’t
want
them to be. He’d been up for attempted murder, for God’s sake. Mia had dealt with his people, and whatever had occurred wasn’t good. He was hiding things, and operated in a world that had already proved extremely dangerous.

Yet still I yearned.

“Get in the truck,” he said finally. “I’ll drive you, and take you home afterward.”

“It’s not necessary—” His quiet stare silenced me, and made me tighten my belt before I opened the door and climbed inside. “Thank you,” I said after a moment. I’d been raised to have manners, and even if I didn’t need a chaperone, I had to admit I wasn’t eager to walk back through those doors alone.

Or at all.

He drove to the club silently, barely sparing me a glance. I kept fussing at everything—my seatbelt, the hem of my dress, my hair. I’d done it in a messy updo, and the curls were tickling my neck.

“Relax,” he said, reaching over to still my hand when I’d again reached for my dress. “I won’t let anyone near you.”

The part of me that was like Mia bristled. I was supposed to be able to take care of myself. But the other night I’d failed spectacularly.

I shut my eyes and turned my hand over in his, gripping his fingers. I expected him to pull away, to curse that I was being pigheaded and he needed to save me from myself.

Instead he just held on, as I did, as he drove us through the darkened, busy streets. New York never slept, and since last Friday night, I didn’t either. Sunday night I’d crashed, but every night after, I’d laid awake to watch the numbers count down until dawn.

We parked in the same garage as he had the other night. After we got out and met behind the vehicle, he pulled me against his side and tipped up my face to his. My heart rocketed in my chest from his nearness, but this move wasn’t to seduce. It was to remind me he was calling the shots.

“As far as the men in the club are concerned, you’re mine now. They won’t touch you, unless they want to tangle with me. And they don’t.”

“Then what do I have to worry about?” I tried to sound flippant, but there was a boulder sitting on my windpipe, making it hard to take a full breath.

He didn’t answer my question. “I will be watching you.” He brushed his mouth over my ear. “Everything you do.”

“Isn’t that a Police song?” I asked shakily, easing back because every impulse demanded I nestle into the safety of his arms.

I hated that I coveted his protection so much. Why couldn’t I be strong and defiant and badass like Mia?

Or better yet, why hadn’t I just stayed home, and left this life to the people who were meant for it? I was just a culinary student and salad preparer. I wasn’t ready to deal with mob types, if that was even what they were.

But Giovanni was. He was part of their crew, despite his obvious reservations, and I needed to understand why. Needed to understand him. Afraid of what I might learn or not, I couldn’t turn off my curiosity in his direction.

Couldn’t turn off
anything
in his direction.

“You’re going to need to act like you like me, though,” he said, continuing once again as if I hadn’t spoken. His typical M.O. “No one will buy that you’re mine if you cringe anytime I move toward you. Or if I do this.” His finger trailed over my lower lip, and on cue, it quivered. He stared at it fixedly for a moment, then lifted his gaze to mine. Those intense blue-black eyes melted me like butter caramel. “Just inside those walls,
tesoro
. When we’re outside them, you’re free to find me as distasteful as you seemed to during dinner. Encouraged to even.”

“Why would you encourage me to find you distasteful?” I held up a hand. “Never mind. I know the spiel. It’s for my own good to steer clear of you. Yes, Christian Gray.”

For once, his lips quirked. “There’s a comparison I don’t get too often.”

We walked up the crowded street hand-in-hand, and when we entered the club, he guided me to the dressing room with his big hands cupping my shoulders. Part of me wanted to shake him off, the other part wanted to burrow. Then I stepped into the room and shrugged off my coat without thinking, and had the absolute joy of watching his eyes glaze and his mouth go slack.

“Christ,” he muttered.

“He had nothing to do with this.” Deliberately bending to look in the mirror, I whipped out my gloss and touched up my lips.

“I’ve seen you,” he said, and this time anger undercut his rich, melodic voice like steel under silk. “I didn’t realize it was you. You wear wigs.”

“I do.” Demonstrating, I tugged a long, white-blonde layered style off a mannequin’s head and fixed it into place. “I still need to pin it down but—”

“This isn’t a game.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me against his chest, speaking close to my mouth so the few other girls scattered at dressing tables around the room couldn’t hear us. “If you want to strip for some godforsaken reason, do it somewhere else. Not here. Not in this club, with these men.”

My breath tripped and puffed out against his lips. “B-but I thought I’d be safer with you. You said—”

“So you expect to keep doing this to me,” he said flatly. “Night after night, you expect me to watch you bare yourself for other men.”

“It’s your own fault I’m not baring myself for you,” I tossed back, then wished I could snatch away the words when his eyes narrowed. “Or it was,” I added. “New information that has come to light has changed my…interest.”

“Has it now?”

I nodded, while all the while my conscience mumbled,
yeah, not so much
.

Attempted murder meant he hadn’t finished the job. Though I didn’t think there was a glass half-full kind of situation when it came to homicide.

“Good,” he said finally. “I’m glad.”

I yanked my wrist free and turned back to the mirror. “Me too. Overjoyed. Now do you mind? I have to finish getting ready and men aren’t allowed in this dressing room.”

“I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Fine.”

Before I could return to my makeup, he pulled me against him again and slid his hand up the back of my thigh. Then he blatantly cupped my ass under my dress. “Fucking thong,” he growled. “I’m buying you a ten-pack of granny panties.”

“They don’t go with this outfit.”

“I don’t want you topless.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to go home with empty pockets. It’s a topless club, Gio.” I glanced down at my rack and shrugged. “They’re just tits.”

“They’re so far from
just
anything, I could wash your mouth out with soap for even daring to think that.”

I blinked up at him, and found he’d rendered me speechless.

First time for everything.

“You do what you have to do,” he said, brushing a quick, hard kiss over my forehead. “And so will I.”

Then he was gone.

“Whoa, intense,” Lydia, one of the other dancers, said after he’d gone.

I nodded. Yep. That about summed Gio up in a nutshell.

“And seriously fuckin’ hot.”

That too.

Fifteen minutes later, I stepped outside to find my shadow waiting. With just one glimpse into his tense face, I was thrown back to that night last spring that started all of this. The night I’d so foolishly followed him here, and hung around while he did his best to chase me away.

Even now, he still hadn’t quite managed that feat. I was either the very embodiment of tenacity or pathetically dumb.

“How long do you dance?”

“Two shifts,” I said, falling into step beside him. “About forty-five minutes each. In between, I serve drinks and food.”

“And flirt with the clientele.”

We stopped walking beside the steps to my cage and I had to grip the railing to keep from losing my balance. All of a sudden, the walls were pressing in on me.

“Hey, hey. Tesoro. Look at me.”

I looked because I wasn’t strong enough not to.

“You don’t have to do this unless you want to.” He cupped my cheek. “We can leave right now.”

“I promised Nancy I’d cover for her.” God, I hated sounding so unsure.

He exhaled. “Fine. But I’m going to be right down here if you need me.”

Swallowing hard, I nodded and climbed the first couple of steps. Then I glanced over my shoulder down at him, where he stood at the base of the stairs, watching me as he’d promised to do.

“This is going to be weird,” I said. “Dancing for you. I mean, dancing while I know you’re in the audience…” I trailed off, my face going hot.

He climbed up a step, all he needed to be taller than me once again. “I’ve been in the audience before when you danced.” His gaze dropped to my chest and his voice lowered. “I’ve seen how you move. I just didn’t realize it was you.”

I lifted my chin. “Now you do.”

“Now I do,” he agreed, trailing his fingers over the inside of my wrist before stepping down and melting away into the noisy crowd.

I faced the cage in front of me, and tried to remember the fun I’d had dancing high above the guests. Part of them but separate. Close, but untouchable.

I didn’t feel safe like that anymore. Now I knew all too well how very touchable I was, if someone wanted to try.

You can do this. One more night, for Nancy, then you don’t have to come back if you don’t want to.

Almost immediately my mind lodged a protest
. But then you’ll never find out what’s going on with Gio. And you’ve been curious since the start.

Curious pussycat, that was me.

Gattina
.

I shook off the sound of Marco’s voice in my head and opened the cage door. He wasn’t going to intrude here. This was only about me, and the music, and the money I would make that would help my education. Tonight I’d have to cut Nancy into a share of the tips, along with the bouncers on duty as I always did, but I would still do well. I’d make sure of it.

The instant the door clanged shut and the pink-and-purple spotlights swung my way, I went into autopilot. I plastered my hands to the back wall of the cage and swung my hips, rotating them in slow circles that pantomimed hard, dirty sex. My halter dress barely covered my ass, and it didn’t take more than a little bending over to show off my hot pink G-string. Gripping my knees, I shook my ass with the music, getting into it, losing myself in the primal beat that echoed up through the floor and into my body. Electrifying me.