Page 98 of Trip Through Your Wires

Omigod! The more I think about it, the more I know I am onto the truth about this place. Richardson was a part of Elmhurst, after all. Everything they did had a secret agenda, which means this club does, too. That’s the answer to getting my life back. Find out who Richardson’s clients are and blackmail him for my release.

I need to get into his office. I need to find his membership list. “Mamma,” I turn, wondering if there is any way in there, when Richardson stalks into the dressing room.

“Everyone out!” he shouts. “Now!”

Mamma’s head spins around and she looks at him in stunned silence. There is a no men allowed policy back here. No one, not the bouncers, nor Richardson, have ever set foot in this space, appearing to honor the rule. And yet, there is he, eyes boring into me, as girls reach for their robes and seek cover.

The way he’s staring at me sends bile bubbling up in my throat, and I don’t think I am the only one that’s anxious. I can tell by the way Mamma pats her head, she too, is alarmed by his presence.

Mamma makes her way to Richardson and the two exchange heated words. When finished, she turns to me with a sad look in her eyes. “Alright girls,” she calls out, the smile that appears, doing little to hide the tension in her voice. “Everyone out. Boss needs to have a conversation with Delta.”

Cherry looks at me, eyes narrow, as if the request has just confirmed everything she and the other girls believed about me in the beginning.

One by one the dancers make their way out of the dressing room. When Cherry is the last one, she stops and leans in, whispering in my ear. “A little tip, I hear if you close your eyes, it goes by faster.”

My stomach plummets and the blood in my veins turns to ice as she turns and makes her way to the door. Once she leaves, Mamma closes it behind her and Richardson storms toward me, tossing a folder down on my vanity.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell this is?” he asks accusingly.

“What the hell, what is?” I fire back.

“Take a look,” he sneers.

I reach for the folder and open it, and when I see pictures inside, my stomach drops. They’re of Jake and me at Nana’s when he was leaving, and of him at the airport.

“Are you spying on me?” I look up, eyes watering in anger. If he had someone watching me that day, what else did they see? How far did that camera lens extend?

“I prefer to call it an insurance policy,” he corrects.

I shove the folder at his chest, disgusted. “Call it whatever you want, but it’s a violation of my privacy.”

He grabs the folder and tosses it back down, then reaches for my arm, yanking me toward him. Slamming my chest against his, my stomach roils at the contact. “I have every right, Dawn.”

“That’s not my name,” I bite back, as I try to yank my arm from his grasp.

“Your name,” he snaps his teeth as his fingers dig into my skin with bruising force, “is whatever I want it to be.”

“Fine.” I lock my eyes on his, not backing down. “Call me whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care. But I do care about my privacy. You have no right to my life outside this club.”

His eyes flick back and forth, studying me, as a slow menacing smile tugs at his lips. “You really should have read the fine print on that contract, Ms. Miller. If you had, you would have learned that your life inside this club, and out, belongs to me for the duration of our agreement.”

A chill works its way down my spine as he lets go of my arm and steps back. “What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Chambers is off limits to you. Him, and any other guy you think about fucking. I cannot risk you bringing harm to the clients. That is why there is a no fraternization clause.”

“Harm to the clients?” I repeat. “Why would I—”

“You are a smart girl,” he cuts me off. “You can’t possibly think I was going to keep you standing out there forever. Surely you understand why you are here by now.”

“To dance,” I say stoically, dread seeping in.

“There it is.” He reaches out and touches my cheek. “That naivety that is in contrast to your cunning nature.” My mind screams to pull away, but I have grown frozen, unable to move as his finger slithers down my skin like a snake. “The men are going to love you.”

“I don’t want to dance,” I swallow and pull back. “I will make a fool of you and this club.”

“Oh, Ms. Miller. You are not going to dance. You are going to serve. On your knees and your back. Whatever, and however the highest bidder desires.”

“You can’t do this,” I croak.

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