Page 9 of Shattered Veil

I exhaled heavily. Apparently, while the remainder of my close-knit group had thankfully mistaken my feelings for Cassie to be ones of distaste, Shawn saw right through me in one glance. No one else had ever witnessed me seeing Cassie half-naked for the first time either, though, so I ushered away the consideration that Shawn was a telepath.

“Brooks…”

I began to put together some sort of an explanation, but my words fell short. I didn’t know what they were going to be in the first place—I would have figured something out eventually, I always do—but I didn’t get the chance. Cassie was making her way toward us, I was thoroughly considering getting up and escaping through the back door, and Tommy reached out an arm to halt her steps.

And the room turned green. Not literally, of course, but the oh-so-familiar feeling of jealousy crept up my spine and forced me to sit up straight. I wanted to tell him not to fucking look at her. To not grab her hand and hold it—like he was currently fucking doing. And to not, for the love of God, ask her for a dance.

“Hi,” Tommy spoke, and she looked down at him with a dazzling smile. “Hi there,” he repeated, cash in hand extended to her. “You are gorgeous. Can I get a—”

“Oh, thanks, man.” The words were out of my mouth before I could even stop them, and Tommy’s head turned in my direction. I remarked to her, “He wanted to buy me a dance.”

Cassie finally caught my eye, and her brows shot up into oblivion. The look was the embodiment of surprise—it was just as good as if she were to have stumbled backward on her stilettos, fell on her ass, and clutched at her metaphorical pearls in shock. She looked me up and down—thoroughly, I assumed, to ensure that I was, in fact, who she thought I was—and I offered her a smile that pulled up half of my lips. The look of pure shock fell off of her face, and I saw her shoulders slump down as she appeared to let out a long breath.

It was a moment shared only between us that lasted a split second.

“You want a dance?” she asked with an upward inflection.

What am I doing?

“Yeah,” I replied with a nod.

Okay, seriously, what the fuck am I doing?

Chapter 3

Ihad no answer for my internal monologue as it sharply questioned my choice of action. I simply watched Cassie happily snatch the dollar bills that Tommy had extended to her and tuck them into the strings of her bottoms. She mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ and the dialogue in my mind silenced itself.

Tommy laughed disbelievingly, shaking his head as he called to her, “Come back to me once he’s done with you!”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile remained as she threw him a gentle wave, curling her fingers in his direction. Cassie grinned at Shawn, who had disbelief and glee written across his face, and as she strolled past me, she shot me a questioning glance. I didn’t get a chance to respond—as I was sitting on the end of the booth, Cassie had whipped herself around it to stand behind me, a hand grazing my chest as she moved.

She leaned down, whispering in my ear, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Vanilla. She was so close to me that I could smell some kind of vanilla-scented shampoo that lingered in her hair. God dammit.

All I could think to reply with was a softly chastising, “I thought you were an accountant.”

“And I thought you had perfect eyesight, yet here we are,” she teased me, grabbed my glasses on either side of my face, and pushed them up so they sat on top of my head.

“Astigmatism,” I clarified. “I use them for driving at night and computer glare—ah!” I audibly gasped as Cassie’s nails raked gently from my chest down to my ribs. “Fuck, I’m ticklish-don’t-do-that, Cas.”

She laughed, and her breath ran over my neck. “You learn something new every day.”

“Feeling like you’re avoiding the topic at hand,” I retorted quietly. “You work here?”

“Yeah…Liam doesn’t know I’m a stripper,” she stated plainly. “And I’d rather that he continues not knowing this tidbit about my life, if you know what I’m getting at.”

“Mum’s the word.”

Cassie pushed on either of my shoulders, standing up straight, and spun around the edge of the booth to face me. Without hesitation, she placed a knee on either side of my thighs, her hair brushing against my shirt as she looked down at me.

Her hips rotated above my crotch, and I swallowed through a large lump in my throat. “You don’t have to actually give me a dance.”

We both continued to speak to each other in hushed tones, our conversation a private one not to be heard by others.

She cocked her head to the side. “It is my job—if I don’t dance, I get reamed,” she admitted in a mockingly dramatic tone. “There are cameras everywhere. Boss-man is always watching. So…I could make my way back to your friend who paid me, or…”

“Not my friend,” I muttered back. “Was just trying to save you from him being an obnoxious ass.”

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