Dirty Secrets

by Landish, Lauren

  I blush at the intensity of my words but can’t help but keep going. “Maybe that sounds silly. But it’s empowering, usually in a way they don’t expect, and it’s inspiring to be a part of that.”

  Maggie’s grin is evident in her voice as she replies, “I think you have your answer, girl. You didn’t need me to tell you that. You just needed me to listen to you decide for yourself.”

  “You’re right, as always. Thanks, girl. I appreciate the backup.”

  “Anytime and always. Well, except for the next two to three weeks. I’ve got a little . . . ah . . . work to do, and I’m incommunicado unless there’s an emergency.”

  “And then we’ve got a coffee and mani-pedi date. Deal?”

  She agrees, and we hang up. I lean back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling with a smile on my face. I can do this. I am doing this.

  Chapter 4

  Dominick

  I’ve already been alerted by the man on duty tonight that Allie is coming to the club. He’s to give her the full respect and treatment she deserves. What I’m not sure of is . . . why is she here? It’s not her night to work, though I’m happy to see her anytime I can.

  But her choosing to come to me is rare. Though we play this game of cat and mouse, always orbiting each other, acutely aware of how close we come, I know she harbors some fear of me to counteract her attraction.

  It’s understandable. Allie’s no fool, but she was thrown into the deep end of my world unwittingly and hasn’t fully learned to swim. Before the shooting, my being a ‘Mob boss’ was just theoretical, a rumor she wondered about but didn’t really give credence to.

  She didn’t break the rules I had in place, so she had no need to see or immerse herself in the reality of my life. But one shooting changed all that. Now, she’s retreated into a gray zone where she pretends nothing’s changed between us while we both know it has. I can see it in the way she looks at me the few times her eyes meet mine and when she looks up at my window as she dances. She might want to pretend that her life is normal . . . but her body and her eyes tell me something very different.

  On my part, I know I’ve crossed a line. She’s interfering with my business, and every time I step into one of the ‘blinds’ I’ve set up to keep an eye on her, I know I’m taking a risk. If she discovers me, she would be fully within reason to freak out, calling me a stalker and worse. But I swear, as much as I want to claim her as mine publicly, my number-one concern is seeing that she remains safe.

  The knock on the door makes my heart stutter for a beat, and though I know my slacks and dress shirt are impeccable, I can’t help but run my palms over my chest, smoothing my tie to make sure I look my best.

  “Enter.”

  The door cracks open and Allie peeks in, looking unadorned compared to her usual stage makeup but so beautiful that she brings light into the club. I glance behind me, trying to calm myself and look at the relative plain appearance of Petals before opening hours. With normal lights on, the mystique of the club is killed, and it helps calm me a little bit.

  “Hey, Dominick? Logan said I could come up?”

  I grin at the question in her tone because all the guys know that Allie has a free pass to me, whether she knows it or not. I am hers, any time she wants me. I turn away from the club, away from the dullness awaiting magic and special effect to seem magical, and toward a creature, a woman who truly is magical.

  “Of course. Come in. Sit.”

  I gesture to the leather chairs on the far side of my office and watch as she glides across the room. Allie never merely walks anywhere. She seems to float like an angel, but her hips naturally sway with the devil’s seduction.

  Her curves are covered in casual faded denim and a silky black tank top that almost looks like a chemise. It’s simple and elegant, like she is. She perches on the edge of the chair, and I sink into the one across from her, relaxing back and letting my knees spread wide around her crossed legs even though there are two feet between us.

  Her foot bounces, and I notice that she’s wearing short-heeled boots, cute and nothing at all like what she wears on stage. She’s anxious, and the rare sign of her nerves thrills me. Not that I want her to be uncomfortable around me. In fact, I want the exact opposite, but her jitters show that I have some effect on her, and it warms my icy heart.

  Her full lips spread wide, but it’s merely a polite smile, not reaching her eyes, which seem clouded with uncertainty.

  “Thanks for seeing me. I, uh . . . I need to talk to you about my other job.”

  “I would love to see you anytime you’d like, Allison,” I tell her with utter sincerity. It’s refreshing, and I relish the luxury. “And please, tell me about the dance classes. I have been interested, and I’ll admit, hoping that you have been successful. I’m proud of your courage in trying to expand your horizons.”

  The words are a rare honesty for me, no game or strategy, no ulterior motive, just truth. I would do anything for this woman, and she barely acknowledges my existence beyond my ownership of the club and a few longing looks, although the longing part may be just me. She is wholly unaware that she owns my heart, whatever there may be left of it.

  She squirms in her seat, the leather creaking mellowly beneath her, and an impulsive bit of jealousy hits me that the chair gets to cup her ass the way I want to when I have to refrain.

  “Oh, well . . . thank you,” she says, blushing a little. “It’s been going really well. In fact, I wanted to let you know that things have changed there. I know we originally talked about my teaching a couple of classes a week, and it’s really grown a lot over the past few months. But one of the private party classes I did has taken on a life of it’s own, and I feel like I need to give it a real shot. That means more nights there, more private classes, and I’m going to set up one of the studios to teach pole fitness classes.”

  Her words are one long run-on sentence, and at the end, she smiles like saying them aloud somehow makes her plans more real. I understand. Sometimes, reality is woven not from our thoughts but from our own speech which leads to the actions that make those words real.

  Her excitement is infectious, bubbly, and light in the dark depths of my soul, an addicting brightness. I start to smile until a devastating thought occurs to me. I’m stricken, though I keep my voice coldly steady as my smile dims slightly.

  “Are you giving notice? Do you want to stop dancing at Petals from Heaven, Allie?”

  What I really mean is, ‘Are you leaving me?’ but I don’t voice that question aloud. I can’t say that anyway, because regardless of how I’ve claimed her in my mind and she’s claimed my heart by her silent actions, the words have never been spoken. The reality has never been forged.

  Still, when she shakes her head, my heart resumes beating.

  “No!” she says, gasping before blushing. “I mean, not exactly. But I was hoping we might be able to rearrange my schedule some? Let me just do feature appearances once or twice each week instead of multiple slots several nights per week? I’m hoping that if my performances are rarer, people will flock to them like a headliner act and I’ll still make enough money to supplement while I’m getting things off the ground at Encore.”

  It’s an interesting idea, and I spin the family crest ring on my pinky finger, the one that denotes me as the head of the Angeline family, letting the idea turn, analyzing it from every angle as the silence stretches.

  I normally wouldn’t, especially for a girl who’s just a dancer. Still, it’s Allie. The word just doesn’t apply to anything she does. She’s never just anything, especially to me.

  Our eyes are locked on one another, the tension between us palpable, at least to me. I wonder if she knows that I can see the racing flutter of her heartbeat at her neck. She unconsciously licks her lips, drawing my attention to the flash of her pink tongue, making me want to nip at her with soft kisses before biting her fuller bottom lip, leaving that sharp mark of possession I’ve dreamed of for months.

  I let a
victorious smirk take my face, and I decide on the best course of action. Though it does probably give me more benefits than she gets, it’s not unfair by any means, and I do think she’ll be agreeable to my terms.

  Leaning forward, I clasp my hands between my legs, letting my elbows rest on my knees and closing the distance between us to so close that I could, if I wanted, pull her in to taste her forbidden sweetness.

  “You are a delight, on and off the stage, Allie. I think you know that, which is why I’m certain your new venture will be a success. If there is anything I can do to assist with that, please let me know. It would be my honor.”

  She blushes, her eyes sparkling. “Dominick, thank you. I know . . . well, I know you’re not the nicest man, but you’re always good to me.”

  The compliment is somehow soothing and exciting, making me think just how good I could be to her. Or maybe how bad? But I lock those thoughts away, again denying myself and denying her the possibility of what we could be, and focus on what she’s asking for now.

  “As for your shifts here, instead of paying your house fee and tip-out and keeping the remainder of your tips as per usual, I propose something a bit different. Though not common, you do know we’ve done headliner feature acts before. Our standard contract in that respect is an eighty-twenty split of door cover charges. No house fee, but you would still tip-out for the DJ, waitstaff, and bartender. Tips would be yours after that. It’s your idea about rarer performances being more in-demand but significantly amped up.”

  It’s a good deal, one I’ve only offered a handful of times in my time as owner of Petals. With the proposal I’m presenting, Allie would receive a small portion of Petals’s profits for the night, a flip of the norm and a hefty bump in her pay, and considering feature performers perform on-stage for much longer sets, the potential for tips is greater too.

  It’s an opportunity only given to the crème de la crème of dancers, ones I’m certain can fill the club and make both of us considerable bank.

  Someone like Allie.

  Her jaw drops open wide in shock, tempting me to fill her mouth with something I suspect we’d both like, but to my surprised delight, she’s not mindlessly celebrating my offer.

  Through her shock, her mind whirls around and lands on . . .

  “Make it 75/25 and you have a deal.”

  The surprised chuckle escapes before I can stop it, but I recover, dipping my chin as I incline my head.

  “Very well. 75/25. On one condition.”

  At my agreement, even with a caveat, she leans forward, bringing our lips within inches of each other, our breath mingling as she lifts one eyebrow in question. Though there is desire in her eyes, there’s also a wariness, that hint of suspicion telling me that she’s so much more than one of the typical girls downstairs who would trade their bodies to me in a heartbeat without so much as considering the cost. And as much as her body tempts me, it is this inner beauty that draws me in more, the innate goodness that remains inside her heart and the swift intellect behind the golden chocolate of her eyes.

  “Dinner. That is the condition. Have dinner with me.”

  Her breath falters, and though she disguises it quickly, I see the quick flash of confusion in her eyes before she schools her features.

  “Like a date? But that’s like rule number one around here. Girls and staff don’t mix.”

  She’s not wrong. I have many rules, and one of the most steadfast ones is that there is no fraternization inside the club. Employees are strictly forbidden from dating, an offense punishable by many rather creative consequences, up to and including death, depending on the betrayal and rank of offenders.

  Only one couple has ever violated that rule and gotten away with it, although I overlooked that because of the other benefits involved in that particular transaction. Having a marker with the FBI is a powerful token in my line of work.

  I shrug my shoulders, smiling a little. “You are correct. And you know from personal experience that I don’t break my own rules. How is Maggie, by the way?”

  “Well, uhm . . . happy.” Frustratingly, one half of that couple is one of Allie’s best friends, but sometimes, you can’t choose your friends. I couldn’t deny Allie her friend in any case. “But you and I—”

  “Would no longer be employer and employee,” I finish for her reassuringly. “In this scenario, you become more contractor than employee, so a date is no different than if I saw the CEO of the beer distributing company I utilize but do not employ.”

  Her eyes narrow, her cheeks flushing in delightful jealousy. “And have you dated the beer CEO?”

  I adore her reaction but keep my face neutral as I nod knowingly. “We have had dinner many times. Ron is a rather entertaining fellow, and his wife is delightful.”

  She chuckles, just the way I’d hoped she would, but then she sobers slightly, sarcasm teasing at the edges of her words.

  “But you wouldn’t be setting a very good example if you go around seemingly breaking your own rules. Some of your men could see it as your splitting hairs. You could be inciting mass-anarchy.”

  I lift my brows, thinking about my crew. “I sincerely doubt that. People are too fearful of me to risk my wrath over a bit of pussy or dick, as the case may be.”

  Instantly, I wish I hadn’t phrased it so, because a weight falls between us. I take pride in speaking as an educated man, a man who might not have gone to Yale but still completed his MBA at a perfectly respectable university and who strives to make more of himself than the greaseball wise guy my grandfather was, no offense.

  But my poor choice of words reminds Allie of who I am. What I am. The aftermath of the shooting tore the veil from her eyes more than anything else, and I had to reveal just how deep my connections ran. She knows that I’m in charge of East Robinsville, that I’m The Boss, the Don, though nobody uses that antiquated word anymore.

  And though her eyes track me the same as they did before, full of restrained lust and a desire to know more about me, I can see that the questions beneath the surface of her attraction are scarier to ask, but they’re ones she wants the answers to all the same.

  She deserves those answers, and it’s the other reason I’ve never pushed breaking my rule with her. Any woman who deserves to share my life with me to that level deserves to know. If we go there, she’s going to know what I am, what I do, even if I don’t want her involved.

  I think Allie knows this, and she swallows, digging for her courage. My heart leaps as my brave girl finds it and graces me with another angelic smile.

  “I would love to have dinner with you. Though not as a part of the agreement. Simply agree to the 75/25 split. You don’t need to manipulate me with money to have dinner with you, Dominick. You . . . you never have.”

  My name on her lips is a heavenly hymn my sullied soul doesn’t deserve, but I take it anyway, hoarding it like treasure while at the same time promising myself to make her scream it, sigh it, and sing it, again and again.

  The fact that she is agreeing to dinner despite the agreement tells me everything I need to know. Allie wants me, maybe as much as I want her. We’ve been good, as good as we can be, which for me isn’t much, but we’ve followed the rules.

  And now it’s time for something else. “Good. Then let’s eat.”

  The lilting happy sound of her giggle delights me.

  “I didn’t realize you meant right now!” she argues. “I thought you meant you were going to pick me up for dinner sometime.”

  I shake my head, standing up reluctantly because I don’t want to be an inch farther apart from her than I have to. I want to feel her breath on my skin forever . . . but I have to order dinner.

  “I don’t want to give you time to reconsider. So now it is.”

  That’s the God’s-honest truth because I know if I give her a moment to analyze this, she’ll come out on the same side every time. The one where she doesn’t go out with me at all.

  So I’m pressing tonight, hoping that by keepin
g her slightly off balance, I can get more into her psyche, learn more about her, and maybe make her not so frightened of what I am.

  Though I strongly suspect that’s an exercise in futility. I pick up my phone, calling my favorite Italian restaurant, one of my own, of course.

  “I want one large order of lasagna, salad for two, and a bowl of roasted tomato and basil soup.” I nod as they repeat the order, promising to have it here as quickly as possible. I take the moment to let Thomas know since he’s currently serving as front-door security.

  “How’d you know I’d want soup?” Allie asks as I hang up.

  Though I know her preferences in and out, I choose to tease her. “Just a lucky guess, I suppose. Though how do you know the soup isn’t for me and the lasagna for you?”

  Her smile is one that says she gets my humor, something most people would say I severely lack. “Well played, Dom.”

  Sitting back down, I frame her crossed legs with my spread ones again, though I pull her chair closer to mine, caging her in with my thighs.

  “So, now that this is dinner,” I say, intentionally not calling it a date because I know she’s still a bit skittish, “tell me something about yourself I don’t know.”

  I’m curious what she’ll share, though I already know so much. I want to hear the stories of her past from her own lips.

  “Hmm,” she hums, obviously searching her mind as she glances off to the side. If I were a more artistic man, I would insist that she pose for a portrait because her profile is elegant, the slope of her nose giving way to her lush lips, and the graceful length of her neck begging me to nibble.

  Instead, I stay in my seat, giving her time and space to adjust, patiently hooking her so as to reel her in without her even noticing. Finally, she turns back, eyes landing on mine.

  “I always dreamed of being a dancer.”

  I tilt my head, amused. “And this is supposed to be new information? Allie, you are a dancer. I knew that the first moment I saw you perform.”