Chapter 6 The entire day I've been fuming. It hasn't slowed. It hasn't abated. My fury has its own color, flavor, and zip code. I was shocked when I saw Vander's name, but it quickly grew into nerves. Into a bit of excitement too. I hadn't seen Vander in about ten years since he broke my adolescent heart. I never blamed him for it. We were both a mess after losing Cass, and despite Vander telling me that he loved me and I was the girl he'd want forever, I knew he was leaving for college in Boston, and I knew how things like that went. I wasn't shocked when he broke up with me that night. Just heartbroken. We never told Cassian about us, but Vander wanted to. I was the pushback in a lot of ways with that. I didn't want Cass to know. I especially didn't want my parents-my father in particular-to know. The thought scared me to no end. Even before I knew what my father was capable of, I knew he wasn't good and that hiding pieces of myself from him was vital. Then Cass died. I always looked at Vander and me a bit like Romeo and Juliet. Forbidden, star-crossed lovers who ended in tragedy. I was so crazy about him. He was such a bad boy. Mysterious, as I said. He was every red flag teenage girls love wearing, and I pinned that flag to my sweater like a badge of honor. My parents couldn't stand him, though they hated all of Cassian's friends. And Cassian knew they were assholes, which is why they weren't allowed near me. I was a good girl and didn't like disobeying anyone, but I couldn't stay away from Vander. So yeah, the remnants of the teenager in me were a little giddy. Until I heard what he said. Until I got a better look at his green eyes and smooth, dimpled chin and started to piece it all together. I've been fucked over by the men in my life more times than I care to think about, and now I can add Vander to that list. It has me swirling in a bit of a rage and dancing to Chinchilla's "Little Girl" like a boss queen. Not the angel tonight, I'm dressed in a red pleather bustier and thong with matching red lips. Because I was his angel. That's what he used to call me, and I always liked the endearment. When I started working here, that's what Tino called me, too. He said I have the face of an angel and will do well on stage. So Angel is the name I went with. But not tonight. And when I'm done dancing, I walk the floor like a predator instead of the prey. "That was hot," Sugar says to me with a wink. "Thanks." I wink back. "Tino is looking for you. He sent me to find you." I scowl. I'm not doing any fucking lap dances tonight. No one is safe near me right now. I don't say that. Instead, I give her a grateful nod and go in search of my boss because while I don't want to do any lap dances, the practical side of me knows I don't have a choice. Not anymore. I'm down a job, and until I find another that will accommodate my school hours and pay enough for me to afford a decent daycare for Hazel, I'm a bit up shit's creek without a paddle. Tino is on the far side of the bar, surveying his land like a king, and I walk over to join him. "You have a request for the champagne room." Seriously? I open my mouth to argue when he holds his hand up. "They paid two thousand dollars." I choke. On nothing. "Two thousand dollars?" I get a grand out of that. Who pays that much... fuck. "No. I can't." "You can and you will, Angel, or I can't keep you. I need dancers who dance and don't snub their noses at it." And I can't lose this job. If it's Vander in that room, he's a dead man. "Fine. I'll go." I turn to walk away. "Room three." I throw a hand over my shoulder in acknowledgment and strut in my ridiculous knee-high, laced-up boots toward the room. He's going to get a heel to the balls before this night is done. I open the door, and sure enough, Vander Moore is sitting alone along the curved, white leather booth amongst the deep purple lights. "Do you have a death wish?" I ask as I enter and shut the door behind me. His lips twitch ever so subtly as he looks me up and down. "I must." "This officially counts as stalking." He shakes his head and watches as I step onto the round stage in the center of the room. The Weeknd's "Often" plays through the overhead speakers, and with the pole behind me, I start to sway my hips to the beat. "I'm not stalking. I came here to talk to you, and I didn't want to do that with you at the hospital since I know you're there for school." "I believe I told you that I never wanted to see you again. That wasn't hyperbole. I meant it." He sits forward on the bench, his elbows digging into his thighs as he stares down at the floor. "I know that. And I deserve it." He glances up at me through his dark lashes with his blond hair flopping on his forehead, scruffy, chiseled jawline, and green eyes as piercing and gorgeous as ever. He's in a T-shirt with a hoodie on the bench beside him, and I can see his arms are covered in colorful ink, even if I can't quite make out the designs. "You do." I take him in for a minute, finally allowing myself to remember the boy I once knew. The boy I was so in love with. "Did you know that I've held every man I've ever met up to your standard?" He sits back and blinks at me, shocked by that, but it's true. "You were sweet and kind and respectful to me. Despite your bad boy reputation and your zero fucks to give about anyone or anything else, you were always good to me. Protective. Adoring even. Our first time together, you were amazing, and not because the sex was good, because I think we both know it wasn't for me. All these years, whenever a man would inevitably show his true colors, I'd inwardly tell myself that they weren't all bad because you were one of the good ones, so I knew they existed. You've officially ruined that and any remaining faith I had in your gender, and I have nothing else to say to you." "Good. Then you'll let me do the talking." I swirl my body around the pole, annoyed that I'm trapped in here with him for the next fifteen minutes. My head arches back, the end of my ponytail tickling my lower back as I twirl. "I don't want to hear what you have to say. I'm here to do a dance. To earn my keep." I release the bar and spin back around to face him while reaching behind to start undoing the hooks at my back. His hands shoot out at me. "No. Don't do that. Please." "You don't want to see me strip?" He chuckles and runs his hands back through his hair. "That's a question I can't answer without sounding like more of an asshole, so I'll simply say I don't want you to strip right now." "Oh, but later will be fine for you?" "No. It wouldn't be fine because I don't want you to strip for anyone else." He growls in frustration. "Fuck, Liora! You're fucking up my brain. I'm here to apologize, and nothing I'm saying is coming out right." I climb off the stage and use the toe of my heel to kick his knees together and push his chest back until he's sitting against the high back of the booth. Then I climb on top of him, watching his face, ignoring the heat dancing in his eyes before I settle on his lap. "I don't want your apology. There's nothing you can say that will undo what you've done." He opens his mouth to say something, and I shush him with a finger. "You know, I've grown to hate men over the years. Even Cassian a bit, though that messes me up. But I didn't hate you. Not until now. Now you're as bad as my father and my ex and even the fucker on the corner from my building who likes to heckle me." He stiffens. "I'll get to your father in a second, but what fucker on the corner?" I laugh. "What does it matter?" He glares, and his hard expression throws me. "Tell me." Shocked by his reaction, I answer. "He's just a dealer. He knows I dance here, and therefore he thinks I'm cheap and easy. He says stuff. Occasionally tries to get handsy. That's all." "What does he look like?" "Why?" "Fucking tell me, Liora." My eyebrows knit. "Tall, dark hair, tattoos on his arms and neck, and a cross on his left cheek below his eye." He swallows and nods. "What about your dad?" I shake my head and start to grind on him. His pupils blow out, and he stiffens. "What are you doing?" "My job." I put one hand on the top of the bench beside his head and I hold on as I arch my back and let my hair that's up in a high ponytail fall behind me. "Stop. I don't want you to dance for me." "But that's what you paid for." I grind down on him, feeling his cock harden in his jeans. "Goddammit, Liora. I just want to talk." I smirk. His voice is shredded with desire, and his jaw is locked tight. He's miserable and turned on at the same time. "Then talk." He reaches out for my hips to stop me, and I shake my head and make a tsking noise. "You can't touch the dancers." "Then stop grinding on my dick." I move my other hand to the other side of his head, putting my pushed-up tits practically in his face. "Is that really what you want?" I purr, riding him now as if I were fucking him. "You're trying to torture me." "Yes. That's also part of my job." "Fuck," he growls when I pick up my pace, essentially dry fucking him. "I'm sorry I got you fired. I'm sorry I overstepped and didn't just come and talk to you. I don't know why I did it other than I thought maybe you wouldn't say yes to me if you had other options." "So you decided to make me destitute so I'd have no choice but to accept your offer?" His eyes pinch shut, and a shaky breath exhales from his lungs. "It was wrong. I mean it. I know it was wrong, and I'm truly, truly sorry. I'll never do anything like that again. I just want to help you." "Why? What's in it for you?" He chuckles and then groans when I swirl my thong-covered pussy right over his hard cock. "Not this." "No? This isn't what you want? What you came here for? You're not trying to fuck the slutty stripper the way every other man does?" Sweat breaks out across his forehead, and he stiffens, his body rigid. "No. I'm not. I don't think you're a slut or a whore or whatever nasty term you've used. I never thought that. I swear. I don't care that you're a dancer. I mean, I don't like it, but that's just the man in me who doesn't want anyone else calling you angel or having you dance for them." "What?" "Dammit! Stop moving on me. You're messing up my brain, and I'm saying shit. I didn't come here to fuck you or have you dance for me. I came to apologize and offer you the job. That's it!" I stop moving, and his eyes snap open, bleeding sincerity into mine. And now that I've stopped and am sitting here on his thighs in silence, he takes advantage. "I'm sorry. I saw you and pieced things together and made assumptions about your life, and I... I took over as I always do. I'm used to helping but doing it my way. I'm used to taking what I want and acting without having to ask permission or even worrying about the repercussions because there rarely are any for me. I never meant to hurt you. I was honestly trying to help, and I went about it in my very wrong, fucked-up way. Please, please forgive me." I stare at him, my heart thundering, matching the fast beat of the new song that came on. "The offer is genuine and comes with no strings other than you'll have to see me every day at work. But we'll be professional." "You mean grinding on your dick dressed like a devil dominatrix isn't part of the description?" A crooked grin curls up his lips. "Definitely not." "That's a shame. I like this outfit." I look into his eyes. "Why are you doing this? That's what I can't wrap my head around. We knew each other a lifetime ago. Is this really about Cassian?" He shrugs. "Partially. But you're someone I cared a lot about too, and I hurt you." Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Fɪndηovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. I cock an are you for real eyebrow. "Vander, I was sixteen. We were kids, and despite what you and I said back then, I think we both knew it wasn't going to be forever." "Do you need the job, Liora?" I hesitate. He knows I need the job, and I don't have to answer his rhetorical question. It's more a matter of if I trust him, and right now, I don't. Hell, I don't even like him, and the thought of seeing him every day isn't smart or appealing. Yes, he came here to apologize and not have me strip or dance for him. Yes, he was protective with the actor the other night and the woman in the café that morning. But he got me fired to try to coerce me into working for him, and that's a scary thing. I don't like him having that sort of power over me or my life. As if reading my thoughts, he says, "I'll only be your boss. Like you said, we knew each other a lifetime ago, so it's not about that. You're smart, you're a hard worker, you clearly don't take my shit, and I tend to deal out a lot of it. I think you'd be an amazing assistant, and I'd really like to bring you on. You can quit at any time." "There's really a daycare in your building?" He nods. "Yes. And because I acted so poorly and did so many things wrong with you to start this, I'm increasing your pay to two hundred K." I practically throw up on him. Instead, I laugh. "I'm not going to fuck you, and I'm not going to date you. Despite my current outfit choice, I no longer like the color red." He tilts his head, questioning. "Huh?" "Never mind. Just know that's not how it'll be with us." "Who said I wanted to fuck you?" "Your hard dick." He gives me a look that is nothing short of sexy and deviously hot. "You're grinding on it and shoving your perfect cleavage in my face. I'm still a guy, and you're a beautiful woman. But no, we won't be fucking, and we certainly won't be dating." I glower. "I still don't trust you." He smiles. "Angel, I don't trust you either. So do we have a deal?" The song ends, and I climb off his lip. "I'll think about it. Until then, enjoy your blue balls." I head out the door, needing a minute away from him. Because we both know I'm going to say yes. I'm just not sure yet what that will mean for me.