Dared: Scandalous Moves Series

by Staley, Deborah Grace

  “I understand, but I’d like you to make this your priority so the necessary changes at the club can be implemented as quickly as possible. I’ve authorized the club manager to do whatever you ask, and accounting has been alerted so that you can have the funds you’ll need.”

  Her head was spinning, but she tried to focus on what he’d said first. “What do you mean you want me to make this my priority?”

  “I know you intended to work while you develop the new show at the club, but I’d like you to take time off and spend the next several weeks at Vanz.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible.” She limped back the couch and sat heavily.

  “How’s your knee today?”

  It hurt like hell, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Like I said, it’ll be fine in a few days.”

  “I’m going to make you an appointment with the best orthopedic doctor in the city.”

  “I have an orthopedic doctor.”

  “You need the rest, Di, and I need you to make this new show at Vanz happen. Sign the contract and contact my manager to set up a meeting with the performers.” After a brief pause he added, “Please.”

  Di felt like her head had just exploded. “This is a dream. A dream where an overbearing, insufferable man, who I can’t actually believe I just spent the night with, just presumed he could take control of my life. Who the hell do you think you are, Van?”

  “Di—”

  “First of all, I don’t need you to make doctor’s appointments for me. I’ve taken care of myself for years and will continue to do so without your or anyone else’s help. Second, we don’t have an agreement. I have not signed a contract to work for you.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “As for compensation, I’ll pay you what you were making with the show plus a generous stipend.”

  “I need more time to work this out.”

  “Isn’t this what you wanted? For Vanz to be respectable? For me to be respectable?”

  “I may be able to help with the former, but the latter has nothing to do with me.”

  Silence stretched across the line. Di chewed her thumbnail, unsure how to proceed. She wanted to work on the project at the club, and at the same time, she wanted to get as far away from Van as possible and begin the process of forgetting him. But even as she thought it, she knew forgetting Van would be impossible.

  “I need you, Di,” he said softly.

  She closed her eyes and pretended just for a moment that he could actually need her like a man needs the woman he cares for. And just like that, hope bloomed inside her chest.

  “When will you be back?” she asked.

  “Tonight. Late.”

  “Let me see what I can put together today. Call me tomorrow, and I’ll have an answer for you.”

  She heard him let out a breath. “I’d rather have you on the payroll today, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  Di smiled. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

  His low laugh had all her good parts standing at attention and saluting. “You did a pretty good job of that last night, so I guess I can concede on this point.” Even after everything they’d done together, Di blushed. She actually blushed. “Don’t go all shy on me now,” he said, his voice still intimate. “I like you fierce and in charge. I just want you fierce and in charge for me. Now.”

  “Patience,” she said.

  “Never cultivated that trait,” he said firmly. “If I place an offer that’s not accepted immediately, I withdraw it and move on. But for you, I’ll wait.”

  “I kind of like the idea of being your first,” Di said, still smiling

  Van laughed again, but said, “I’ll expect your answer tonight,” he said. “And I’ll want you at the club tomorrow.”

  “Bossy much?”

  “Always” he said. “I have a meeting. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Talk then,” she said and disconnected the call.

  Di got up. If she was going to move heaven and earth in a day, she’d better get started. But first, she needed ibuprofen and an Epson salt bath.

  9

  Di had been hard at it all day. Her first call had been to the production company for her show. Working out a couple of weeks off hadn’t been a huge issue. More than two weeks, however, would have required a renegotiation of her contract, so she hadn’t had to tell them about her injury. Finally, she’d made an appointment with her orthopedist who’d agreed to work her in at the end of the day.

  In the meantime, Anne had come over, and together they’d gotten a costume designer, a burlesque coach, a composer, and a production crew in place and ready to meet with them at Vanz the next morning. The club manager had arranged a meeting with the dancers and club staff just before the rest of her people would descend on the club. That done, she and Anne had spent the rest of the day drinking copious amounts of wine and mapping out a rough plan. So much depended on the talent they had to work with, their skills, and willingness to learn a new style of dance.

  Her doctor had taken x-rays and told her in clear terms she needed to take some time off. He had also strongly encouraged her to consider her life beyond the stage.

  She had just gotten back from her doctor’s appointment when she heard a knock at her door. When she checked to see who it was, she found Van. She opened the door and drank in the sight of him in a dark suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the throat along with a loosened tie. Without speaking, he put an arm around her waist, walked her back into the apartment, and kicked the door closed.

  And then he kissed her.

  Tension radiated from his body, but Di felt him relax as the kiss lengthened. She eased her hands around his neck, across his shoulders, and down his arms as his kiss soothed her as well. She realized as she relaxed into him that she’d been focused and tense all day with making plans and feeling the pressure to pull everything together. Add to that the unsettling doctor’s visit. But here, in Van’s arms, with his lips on hers, she forgot everything and instead focused on him, his kiss, and just how good this felt—simple, yet intricately complicated.

  Van broke the contact, but pressed his mouth to her neck and inhaled. “I’ve been thinking about doing that all day, through one endless meeting after another. I thought I’d never get here.”

  If she were being honest, she’d have to admit she’d thought of him, too. “I didn’t expect to see you. You said you’d call tomorrow.”

  “Disappointed I showed up here instead?”

  “No,” she said honestly.

  His smile said her answer pleased him. He took her hand and led her to the couch where he pulled her down into his lap. “All right. Business first. You have an answer for me?”

  She played with a silver medallion on his lapel that had a V engraved on it. “Don’t you mean business second since you didn’t go there first?”

  He kissed her again. “Technically, you’re correct.” He glanced away and said, “I hope that pile of paper on your table means you’re going to say yes.”

  “I am,” she confirmed.

  “So you signed the contract?”

  “No.”

  “You want to make changes?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, frowning, but ran his hand up and down her back, like he couldn’t resist touching her. Di smiled, liking the idea.

  “I don’t need a contract, Van. Or money. I want to do this.”

  Van frowned. “But you were adamant that this should be a business arrangement.”

  “Well, yes, and it will be.”

  “Not without a contract and the company paying you. Sign the contract, Di,” he said firmly.

  “Okay.” She stood and went to her dining table to rummage around for the envelope he’d left. “But after I sign this, you’ll have to leave.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Di jumped and turned, startled to find him standing behind her. “Very sure. We agreed that once we’d come
to an agreement, there’d be no more contact between us other than professional,” she said, teasing him. “You in my apartment late at night is not professional, Mr. Vanzant.”

  “Unless you ask me,” he said then pointed out, “And you invited me in.”

  “True,” she conceded.

  “And you could have already signed the contract and eliminated the need for this conversation, in person or otherwise. Careful,” he said as he caressed her cheek, “or I’m going to believe you delayed signing just so you could get me into bed again.”

  Di stepped back, ripped open the envelope, flipped to the last page, and picked up a pen.

  “Sure you don’t want to read that first?”

  Di tapped the pen on the page. “Right. I shouldn’t trust you.” She turned back to the first page and scanned the headings. The term of the contract was flexible to allow for her performance schedule, but that wouldn’t be necessary. “I cleared it with the company to take two weeks off,” she said as she continued to read.

  “Good.” He pulled out a chair. “You should sit.”

  Which she did when she got to the compensation section. In fact, she nearly dropped the contract. “Van. This is too much.”

  “You’re worth it.” He strolled into her kitchen. “Got anything to drink in here?”

  “There’s wine in the fridge.” She kept reading. There were provisions for her transportation, meals. Every possible convenience had been covered.

  “Anything stronger?”

  “There’s whiskey in the island. Glasses are in the cabinet by the sink.” She continued to read. The terms of the contract were more than fair. “Van, this is very generous.”

  He walked back into the living room with two glasses and handed her one. “Hmm,” he said, frowning as he drank. “I was hoping you’d want to negotiate.”

  “If I did, it would be to ask for less.”

  “No,” he said simply, and sat. “And for the record, you could have gotten twice that if you’d asked.”

  Since Van sat on the couch, Di did as well, but in the corner opposite him. She laid the contract in the space between them. “As I said, this is not about money for me. I hadn’t intended to take payment.”

  “How’s your knee?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Same as it was when you asked me this morning.” She sipped her whiskey.

  “What did the doctor say?”

  She frowned. “How do you know I went to the doctor?”

  “Richards gave me a full report on where he took you today.”

  “That is not okay,” she said.

  Ignoring that, Van repeated his question. “What did the doctor say, Di?”

  “He said I’m fine,” she lied, but she wasn’t about to tell him the truth because he’d only use it against her.

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you’re no longer performing?”

  “Not really,” she said. The more lies she told, the easier it became. She drank the rest of her whiskey.

  “I’ve been thinking of expanding into the performing arts, underwriting several theaters across the nation that are struggling. I could use someone like you.”

  Surprised, Di said, “You mean strip clubs?”

  “No.” He set his glass down hard. “When I say performing arts, I mean stage productions, orchestra, jazz, ballet. And I’d like to see the performers provide classes in areas where the arts have been cut from school curricula.”

  “Are you serious?” she said, disbelief lacing her words.

  Van stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Sign the contract, and I’ll go.”

  What the hell had just set him off? In a blink, he’d transformed into the other Van, the one she disliked, and a hard reminder of why she should keep her distance. “I think I’ll sleep on it. If I decide to accept, I’ll be at the club first thing in the morning.” Of course, she already had meetings scheduled, but—

  “Sign it now, or the deal’s off.”

  Di stood, too. “Okay. So, you’re going to bully me now because I’ve somehow offended you?”

  “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have expected last night to change your low opinion of me.” He picked up the contract and handed it to her. “Sign it or don’t sign it. Your choice, but decide now.”

  “Just to be clear, you still want changes at the club? I’ll have complete creative control?”

  “That is what the contract states,” he said, his tone civil.

  He had completely shut down. The man who’d given her last night, held her in his arms while she’d slept, come into her apartment a few minutes earlier and kissed her passionately, was gone. He’d reverted to this intractable stranger—the man she’d known Van to be before last night. How could she have let her guard slip enough to believe he could be . . . What? A man she could respect and maybe even care for?

  Di took the contract from him and walked over to the table that held the plans she’d worked on all day. She signed the document and handed it back to him. “There. Signed. And for the record, I’m doing this for the women who work there. Taking the word ‘strip’ out one of the city’s most exclusive gentlemen’s clubs is worth having to deal with you for the time it’ll take to make the changes.”

  Van took the contract. “Sorry to disappoint, but you won’t be dealing with me.”

  “What do you mean?” she said, following him to the door.

  “I won’t be at the club while you’re working on the new show.”

  Van? Not at the club? “Oh. I thought—”

  After he got the door open he turned back to her. “I can’t be around you and not touch you.” His gaze swept her, and he stepped into her space, tempting her. “I promised not to touch you after the contract was signed unless you asked me.” He paused. “Are you asking?”

  Di closed her eyes and forced herself to take a step back so she wouldn’t go to him and lose herself in his arms again. “Given the way you reacted to my comments about your business, I’m reminded why I made that request. No contact works for me.”

  “As you wish,” he said, then walked away. Di shut the door and leaned against it. She could have sworn she’d seen a flash of something in his eyes. Regret? Sadness?

  She shook her head. No. Not possible. William Vanzant didn’t have feelings, right? That’s what Di knew about him. Van was cold, calculating, and obviously got what he wanted by whatever means necessary. Had he seduced her to make sure she’d agree to his deal? If so, she’d been shockingly easy.

  She poured more whiskey into her glass. No. There’d been no seduction. It had been sex to him. Nothing more. Now, she had to behave like a grown-up and act like it had been the same to her. A voice in the back of her head whispered maybe she’d been wrong about Van. Maybe there was more to him than what she saw on the surface. Maybe that’s why he’d gotten so upset. He’d hoped she would see the good in him.

  Di shook off the romantic notion. Van had gotten under her skin, and worse, he’d cracked the wall she’d put up around her heart to protect herself. But that was her problem, not his.

  She was his employee now, nothing more. She’d do the job he was paying her to do, and then go back to her life and the way things had been before, if that was even possible given the rate at which her dancing career was screeching to a halt. Curled up in the corner of her couch, she pulled a blanket around her legs and drank the whiskey. The problem was how she’d manage to forget the way he’d made her feel.

  10

  Di went through the next morning a little hung over from too much whiskey and lack of sleep. Thank God for Anne. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said to her friend.

  “What’s up? You’re off your game.” They’d interviewed the last of the dancers and had a break for lunch. “Let’s get out of here,” Anne suggested.

  Outside, Di took in several deep breaths of cool, fresh winter air. Richards waited for them in the alley. He opened the rear door of the b
lack sedan as they approached. “We need lunch,” Di said to the driver. “Is there somewhere nearby we could go?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Di and Anne settled into the back, and Di took advantage of the break to close her eyes and rest her head against the seat.

  “Spill,” Anne said. “What happened to you this weekend? I haven’t seen you this out of sorts since—since that blind date you had with Van last year.”

  “That’s ancient history, Anne.” Di rubbed her temples. “Do you have anything for a headache?”

  Anne dug in her enormous purse and came out with a bottle of ibuprofen. “Never leave home without it,” she said, repeating the popular slogan.

  “Thanks.” Di popped two pills into her mouth and swallowed them without water.

  “I’m waiting.”

  “He came over.”

  “Van? To your place? This weekend?”

  Di nodded. “Twice.”

  “What happened?”

  “More than should have.” She looked out the window as the driver expertly maneuvered the car through Manhattan traffic. “I’m an idiot.”

  Anne took her hand. “Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

  The words came flowing out. “He spent the night. It was . . . off the charts, incredible. He came back last night. We argued, and things went back to way they’ve always been.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Saturday was like a dream. He was so amazing. He even told me he cared, that what we were doing wasn’t casual to him. But last night, reality crashed in. He did a complete 180 and turned back into the Van in Vanz.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s fucked up.”

  The car glided up to a bistro that looked busy. The driver opened the door, and she and Anne got out. “I called on the way over,” Richards said. “Just give them your name, and they’ll seat you right away.”

  “Thank you.” Anne looked back at Richards and smiled, then linked arms with Di and said, “Hot and a miracle worker.” When Di frowned at her, she added, “The driver. Working for the Van in Vanz isn’t such a bad gig.”