I glare back at him, hoping that in some way I could be intimidating just the same. I can show him why I am here, how I can make my own money and take care of myself. I also want to show him that unlike some Barbie doll that might be on his arm or be the typical Steele conquest, I am my own woman. I do what the fuck I want. I am who the fuck I want to be, even with the giant mess that my life is.
The beat is dropping, and so am I, dipping it low and making this dance raunchy and powerful, just like the song that plays for me.
My curves pop from side to side and drop down, shaking back up to the top, only to do it all over again. I hear the cheers from all the men who come to watch me, all the men who want me to want them. It just makes me want to give them even more, turning around and bending over, but looking back at them with a sly smile. I make sure my eyes still land on his. Does he know this message is for him?
I go to the pole, knowing I am going to play like I am grinding on the baby tonight. It is like a man I am loving on the dance floor, and Christian is going to know I am not his damn Cinderella. I am a bad bitch, and he has met his match.
It’s been a week since I was used and abused, and I don't take shit anymore, not even from some rich knight in shining armor. Not even if he does what I want and puts a bullet between Varca’s eyes.
Before I know it, my dance is over, and I’m walking off stage, slipping into the back of Russo’s and beelining straight for my dressing room. At this rate I don’t look at anyone, I don’t even have a chit chat with any of the bouncers anymore. Everything has changed.
I go into my auto pilot façade and get work done. It could be worse, I keep having to remind myself of that. Oh, how it could be so much worse. I open my dressing room door and shut it closed behind me. I didn’t like having this weird side entrance/exit at first, but it has proven to be a blessing in disguise.
I immediately walk towards my chair and slide on a black lace thong, then I grab the pair of skinny jeans that mold to me like a second skin, bringing them up over my hips and button them in the front. Just as I’m sliding the button through the hole, I hear my dressing room door fly open. I don’t bother turning back, I’m in front of the mirror and look to see who has come in behind me.
I should be shocked, but I’m so not fucking shocked at all.
Heads would roll tonight.
“What the fuck do you want?” I hiss, venom lacing every single word.
“I want to talk to you about last week, I don’t know everything that happened, but from what the others have told me…”
I can’t stand to listen to Frankie’s bullshit, so I don’t. “Let me get this straight. You want to talk to me about how you set me the fuck up?” I grab my bra, putting it on as quickly as possible. I’m shooting words off again, as I slide my tank top over my head. “That’s what you did, Frankie. You set me up. You even went as far as to make me feel special, like being in this dressing room was for safety reasons. The moment you put me in this fucking room you compromised every shred of safety that I actually had!”
“I didn’t know that he was going to do that to you. I thought he was going to ease you into what he wanted, not fuck you in the lap dance room!”
It’s as if I am having a complete out of body experience. I lose all control, and suddenly, I am right in front of Frankie. Her plump lips are slightly trembling, she can’t even meet her eyes with my own. She knows exactly what she did, as much as she wants to feign being dumb.
I raise my hand and slam it against her cheek so hard that you could hear the crack of skin against skin from outside my room. “You knew exactly what he was going to do to me, and don’t you dare ever fucking act differently. Frankie, you are such an ice-cold bitch. You’re supposed to be the one who watches out for all of us here, our mother hen of sorts, and what did you do…you sent one of your girls knowingly into a situation. Matteo Varca may have been the one that raped me, but you are just as guilty as he is. You put me there.”
Chapter 10
Christian
I hate it that she insists on working in this fucking dump. Selena, my firecracker of a Cinderella has a mind of her own. She doesn’t know this, but after her assault, I had two men on my brothers’ and my payroll watching her – reporting her every move back to me. They’d follow her when she dropped the kids off at school, one of which she worked at during the day. They’d follow her as she picked up her brother from baseball and her sister from dance, even when she took the littlest one, Eleanor, out for an ice cream cone. Wherever she went, they were only a few steps behind.
My brothers had been in my office when I’d received the call that she was on her way back to Russo’s. I remember how they stared at me, knowing I was close to volcanically erupting right before their very eyes. Normally, I would never leave a business meeting out of the blue like that. Especially given the unique circumstances that we’ve had placed in front of us; Matteo Varca wanting us to transport stolen guns from Gabriele DiGiovanni. Varca had absolutely no idea that my brother Jordan was speaking with Lorenzo DiGiovanni, one of Gabriele’s eldest sons. We now officially were two-timing Varca, finding out exactly what he was up to while bettering our relationship with the head of the Italian Mafia.
Varca gave us some bullshit that Gabriele needed the shipment of guns transported to his sister, and while we discovered that this wasn’t necessarily a lie, it was far fetched at best. Gabriele always protected his family, even if he wasn’t the best at treating them in the way he should. I’d heard rumors for a long time about the way he’s treated his oldest daughter, Caprice, the stories I’ve heard have made me shudder.
All in all, Gabriele’s sister is protected. Jordan found out from Lorenzo that they have hired security to protect her, and her family, until their threat is dealt with.
I left that meeting so quickly I’m surprised there weren’t skid marks where I stepped. She came back to the place where she was raped, for what, exactly? To earn a few more dollars? The woman drove me insane, and not in a good way. In the kind of way where I want to shove her up against the wall and scream in her face on how stupid she’s being. I would do it if I had to, I would scream until she broke down and cried, but I doubt that she would let herself.
Since then, every night at 8 p.m. sharp I am at Russo’s, even though I know that she doesn’t come on until around ten. I want to be here the moment she walks through those back doors and stay until I personally see her getting in that Kia Sorento and driving home.
I’ll be damned if anything ever happens to her again.
She may fight me tooth and nail, and I’ll give it to her, she’s gotten further than any other woman has who has tried to stand up against me. Granted, I’d never let another woman speak to me the way Selena does. She stares up at me and screams in my face, like she’s not over a foot shorter than me like she thinks she can take me on. She is resilient as fuck, maybe it’s one of the reasons I am so attracted to her.
So, I sit here, in this dingy little strip club and watch as she dances. I stick around until I get a text from one of my boy’s saying that she’s walking towards her car, and that’s when I go.
Tonight, though, I have different plans.
I figured out through sweet talking some of the other strippers here, that Frankie is the woman who runs this joint, the same Frankie who Varca was drooling over last week. I’ve been here every single night and haven’t seen her, until tonight, that is.
She struts through the back curtain out into the club. It may be dim in here even with the neon lights and strobes flashing, but I can see her face is puffy. I have to know what that is about. I slide out of my chair and walk towards the bar, ready to give her my proposal, which I think will benefit the both of us.
“Frankie, it is, isn’t it?”
“Depends on who’s asking, pretty boy,” she mutters, grabbing a glass from behind the bar. I watch as she pours herself a double shot of vodka.
“You know who’s asking. You’re too pretty to be
dumb, even if Varca thinks you are.” Matteo never did learn, not with Arielle and certainly not with his little side piece Frankie here.
“What do you want?” She takes the shot back, eyes glancing around the club. I’d wonder what she’s looking for, but honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck.
“To come to a mutual understanding, which will benefit both parties.”
“Cut the horseshit and tell me what it is exactly that you’re looking for, Mr. Steele.” Boom, Bada Bing! I knew that she knew who I was. Fuck, I hate it when people act like they don’t.
As the lovely lady asks, I cut the horseshit.
“I don’t want Selena working here anymore. I don’t care what you need to do, but she does no longer work at Russo’s. Do you understand?” I cross my arms and lean on the bar, staring into this woman’s beady orbs. The music surrounds us, pumping the bass to an upbeat song. It’s funny, everyone in this club is happy, and yet the tension between Frankie and I couldn’t be thicker.
Frankie pours herself another double shot, throwing it back and slamming her glass on the bar in front of us. “I heard you loud and clear. Now, how much is she worth to you?”
Boom.
I knew the woman wasn’t dumb, but apparently, I was.
“She’s priceless.”
When I tell Frankie that Selena is priceless to me, internally I slap myself silly. My father would’ve backhanded me so hard for even saying anything like that, especially to a woman like Frankie. Then again, most girls would be in awe that I even said anything that romantic. Selena though, she’d probably curse me out, knowing her as much as I do.
Frankie doesn’t want an exuberant amount of cash. To be honest, I am shocked by her demands. She doesn’t want a million dollars. She wants an out, more specifically, she wants me to buy Matteo Varca out of her business.
It seems that Frankie is in the market for a new partner.
I oblige, promising her that I will have my lawyers draw up the paperwork and offer Matteo a deal, a hefty deal. My only demand will be that Russo’s get a well needed facelift and a much-needed name change.
I will be partners with Frankie, but more so a silent partner. I will not be seen at this strip club constantly, but if the public catches wind of me buying into this place, it will damn well look like I own it.
I receive a text from Clyde, one of the men I have on Selena’s security detail, stating that she has just started her trek out of the back door. Normally, I’d just walk out the front and watch her get in her car, then when I was satisfied with her safety level, I’d get in my own car and go home. Tonight, though, tonight was different.
I walk straight up to that massive Kia, and she jumps about ten feet high when she turns to see me standing there. The chuckle roars out of me, dammit, I can’t help it. “You are trying to give me a heart attack, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying to do a few things to that heart of yours, Cinderella, but giving you a heart attack isn’t high on my list. At least give us forty years before I start coming up with ways to kill you.”
Instead of the usual glare, or catty remark – I get a giggle, a full on glorious giggle from this woman. It’s as if I hear Heaven’s gates opening before me, and in a split second, she ruins it all for me. “If you think I’m going to be anywhere near you in forty years, you’re criminally insane.”
“Oh, darling, you don’t get it, do you?” I press up against her SUV, leaning little ways against her window. “I’m going to put a ring on that dainty little finger of yours.”
“No, you are not,” she grumbles. Cute as a button this girl is.
“Yeah, I am.”
“How are you going to put a ring on my finger when I won’t even go out on a date with you?!”
“I’m a Steele, which means I’m a pretty persistent motherfucker.”
“A pretty annoying motherfucker is more like it…,” she huffs under her breath, causing me to break out into a smile. “You won’t even leave me alone. You keep popping up like a little lost puppy, go run along home, I’m allergic to dogs and you are certainly a dog.”
“I’ll leave you alone on one condition. I promise. I will not come back to Russo’s and watch you dance ever again if…”
“If?” She inquires.
“If you agree to go out on one date with me. One night, five hours. I want one night with you, Selena, that’s all I’m asking for. Just give me one night.”
I think she’s going to tell me to go fuck myself, and then I hear it: “Fine.”
“Good girl. I’ll be going out of town for a few days on business, but when I get back, I’ll have our date planned,” I tell her, but before I back away from her SUV, I grab a phone I’ve had sitting in the pockets of my trousers, burning a hole through the cloth for the last couple hours. I hand it to Selena, and she gives me a confused look. “This is your phone. I programmed my phone number in there, as well as anyone that you may ever need to contact for any reason. If you need help, you call me. If you need protection or feel unsafe you call M1 or M2. Got it?”
“I don’t need anything from you, Christian.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You’re going to need a lot from me, you just don’t know it yet.”
Chapter 11
Selena
The asshole programmed himself into my phone as Man Candy. What in the ever-loving fuck. I can’t help but shake my head at him, or his antics. Two days ago, right before he gave me this phone, I almost slipped up, I almost let him see that he genuinely made me laugh. Thank God, I recover well. I didn’t want him to know that he was slowly getting to me, because that’s what was happening, as much as I didn’t want to admit that he was.
The cocky, arrogant-as-fuck, Christian Steele was getting to me.
For two days, I’ve done the shittiest job ever of not thinking about Christian Steele. I’ve done every damn thing I could’ve done to purge my mind, to redirect my focus to anything and everything that doesn’t remind me of that annoying asshole. No matter what I’ve done, he still plagues my mind.
It’s the end of May, and I agreed to go out with my friend Brenna for a drink, a much needed one if you asked me. She’s been away the past few weeks, and there’s so much that we haven’t talked about, things that we need to talk about – like the cockroach that can’t be squashed.
I’m really trying not to see Brenna when the humidity is making my makeup slide off and my hair frizz. I had to sweet talk her into seeing me at 8 p.m. Luke told me he’d watch Ellie and Sabrina, and for once, I didn’t feel bad for leaving them. Normally, I do, the guilt eats away at me because I feel like I should be spending all of my time at home or working. I know that’s wrong, to not have any time for myself, but…it’s just how I feel. I’m more concerned about the kids than my own personal health and wellbeing, but that’s just what happens whenever you have three mouths to feed and the sole responsibility for a family.
I make my way over to the local Starbucks and meet Brenna, she’s a recovered alcoholic so we don’t go to the bars. We avoid the bars, and maybe we don’t have to, but it’s my way of not tempting her sobriety. What I will tempt her with is a chocolate chip cake pop, and if she won’t eat it, I sure as hell will.
I go up to the counter and order my usual, a caramel Frappuccino, and add on a chocolate chip cake pop. I see that it isn’t overly busy this time of night, so I make my way over to the corner of the store after I get my frap. There’s a small quaint couch in the corner with no others surrounding it. This looks like the perfect place to catch up with Bren.
I haven’t told Brenna about what happened at Russo’s, and I don’t think I will. She’s the kind of girl that over worries about everything and anything, and the last thing I need for her to worry about is me and my former place of work.
Yep. That’s right. I was fucking fired.
I got a call from Frankie the next day, telling me I’d better never set foot on the property of Russo’s ever again. I can’t say I blame he
r if one of my girls slapped me I’d probably have fired them too. But really? I can fucking blame her. I’ll blame Frankie for a lot of shit because, in the end, she was the catalyst for everything that happened.
I hate to admit that I’ve had to tap into the money that was put into my account – but I did. There was no way in hell I was going to lose my family, so I did what I had to do, that being using the money that was wired to me to help pay the bills.
“Look what the dog dragged in,” Brenna laughs, approaching me.
“Cat. I’m pretty certain it’s ‘look what the cat dragged in’.”
“Pfft. Whatever. You know I was never good at these southern sayings, anyhoo. I’ll be right back, let me get some liquid poison.” I shake my head as Brenna turns away and heads towards the counter. No matter what, some things will never change. Just like Brenna’s unique talent for messing up old sayings.
Brenna got her liquid poison as she called it and sat down next to me on the couch, updating me on what’s been going on with her the last few weeks. It made me realize that I’ve kind of been a shitty friend. For a while, I’ve been so absorbed in my family and making sure that everyone is okay on the home front, I didn’t even think to consider if my best friend needed me or not. Damn, that is shitty.
“I’ve landed a few new clients at work. You know, work used to not feel like work, but now all it feels like is work. I start my day at four in the morning sometimes just to meet their busy schedules, and most of the time I’m not even hitting my bed until eleven or midnight.” Brenna goes on and on about her new clients, her love-hate relationship with her job, and by the end of her spewing, we’ve figured out that, indeed, she does still love her insane life.
“So, what’s been up with you? Anything new?”
She asks, so I tell. I don’t leave out any detail, especially not the elephant in the room named Christian Steele. Brenna was at the gala, she was how I even got into that art exhibit. I was her plus one. She saw how I fled as soon as I figured out exactly who the hot blonde was, flirting with me, and she’s chastising me for leaving her so quickly and for leaving that “fine piece of hunk” all alone.
Stripping a Steele (Steele Bros Book 2) Page 7
