Page 105 of The Price of Forever

“Hey, lover,” I said casually, giving myself a once-over in the full-length mirror. “What are you doing back here?”

“Looking for Sapphire,” she said with a smirk. “You’ve got an eager fan outside, waiting for you.”

I snorted. “Already? I haven’t even gone on.”

“It’s someone from the weekend. I recognize him. You danced for him and his friends in the VIP room I think, too.”

I blinked a few times. “That doesn’t narrow it down.”

“Trust me—you’ll remember when you see him. He’s got money. I remember him because he left me a thousand-dollar tip that night. I’m sure you made even more off him.”

My eyes rounded. “Ohhh, I bet I know who it is.”

“There we go. Well, he’s waiting for ya, sister. He seems impatient.”

I fixed a few stray hairs before I straightened my back, ready to head out. “Did you let him know I charge $1,000/minute to come out early?”

Joss cackled as she strode out of the lounge. I followed her a moment later, my eyes adjusting to the dim, colored lighting of the club. I hadn’t even taken two steps before he was at my side.

“Sapphire. There you are.” The blond from last weekend filled my vision, almost too close for comfort. With the heels, we were roughly the same height. His hair was slicked back in the same upper-crust fashion I saw in wealthy circles, and he wore a similar business casual outfit. But with him standing this close, I could see the strain in his face. The lines around the eyes, the way he seemed both somehow dead tired and jacked up. An urgency radiated from him that nearly choked me.

“Hey.” I tried to sound friendly, but I couldn’t mask the surprise. Over his shoulder, I saw Seven standing at attention, mere feet away. He looked ready to pounce. I lifted my palm slightly so he could see: Hang tight. Everything’s fine.

“Do you remember me?” the blond asked.

“Of course.” I flashed a smile. But I couldn’t think of his name, only that he was Cora’s horrible ex. “Tell me your name again.”

His face fell. “You don’t fucking remember me.”

I touched his arm, sensing a storm brewing beneath the surface. As a Hail Mary pass, my brain coughed up the name I’d seen on that business card before I lost it the other night: Eli.

“Eli. Don’t be like that.”

A smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “You know how to be slick, don’t you?”

“Practically a water slide.”

His chest hefted with a laugh, his gaze sliding over my face, down to my breasts. Everything inside me revolted at the attention; flirting with the clients was normal and expected, but the way he watched me felt wrong. I needed to figure out what he was after and whether those extra thousands of dollars would be accompanying him. Some guys wanted pure titillation, but other guys wanted a therapist. If Eli just needed a shoulder to cry on, well, putting up with a little unpleasantness was the name of the game in this industry—even if he was someone unsavory. And I could see a healthy savings account in my future if Eli crossed paths with me more often. Within these walls, I couldn’t refuse a client just because they had bad blood with somebody else.

“You know I’m about to go do a show,” I told him. “Are you going to stay to watch?”

“Of course. How could I miss my favorite?”

“I hoped you’d say that.” I bit my bottom lip.

“Just wanted you to know I’m here,” he told me. “I already talked to Eddie. Meet me in the VIP room straight after your show, okay, gorgeous?”

I sent him my sexiest wink, and he wandered off, occasionally looking over his shoulder to find my gaze. Seven’s curiosity about the exchange was palpable from where he stood. And it was hard to miss his flexed fists as Eli strutted past. But I didn’t have time to chat. The music had changed; the lights were dimming.

I sent Seven a reassuring smile and waited for my cue, adjusting my outfit one final time before stepping up on stage.

Seven stayed closer to the stage than normal. But he didn’t need to worry. I met guys like Eli all the time. Entitled, as evidenced by his immediate demands on my time, and arrogant, seen in the way he glanced at those around him and even in the way he looked at me. Not to mention questionable histories regarding domestic violence. But most important: rich. Eli seemed to be leaking money. And he needed someone to catch the overflow.

I was happy to be that person. Eli would only ever exist as a part of my world within these walls. None of these men existed for me in the real world.

My show was intense and much more acrobatic than usual. I had extra energy I didn’t know what to do with, which I could only attribute to the way Seven fueled—and filled—me. The stage was littered with bills by the time I took my bow, including plenty of fifties and hundreds that Eli himself had tossed to me.

Keep it coming, Eli.

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