Page 4 of Her Royal Daddy
Chapter Two
Norah
I stared at the man shaking his assets on the stage and rolled my eyes, drumming my fingers on the sticky table. First impressions? This place was more or less a dive, albeit a popular one. Unfortunately, I was going to need a bit more than just that one thought for my review. A freaking master’s degree in journalism, and this was the kind of story I got stuck with on a regular basis. A belated human-interest column on a male dance club that had already been open for five years. And they wanted me to go on a Thursday night, no less. Sure, this weekend was a busy one in the city, but what made the club so special that it needed to be covered this weekend? They had already waited this long.
I’d give it one hour, and one drink. And the drink, as well as the cover charge, was going on my expense account. Like I would ever spend my hard-earned money to come watch guys jiggle their junk at desperate soccer moms.
I cut across the room, walking by the stage and ignoring the baby-faced blond dancer wiggling his hips suggestively as I headed to the bar. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, because, hey, if they forced me to be here and they were paying, I might as well make it worth my time. And just like clockwork, I had to show my ID. Again. Like no one had ever heard of anime. I’d spent my last two years in high school as a Japanese exchange student. I liked the style; so, sue me.
Sipping my drink, I made my way back to my table in the corner, I found myself actually pleasantly surprised. As far as Long Islands go, the drink was excellent. One of the best I’d had. I pulled a small notebook out of the pocket of my jacket and made a note for my review.
The music changed, and I glanced at the stage with disinterest as a new dancer strolled out and took his place. He was a popular one, judging by the hoots and hollers of the crowd of ladies now surging to surround the stage.
This guy was smoking hot—the tall, dark, and handsome variety—and I recognized him instantly from the ads out front. I think I might even have seen him in a commercial or two on late night TV. Staring at him in person was no hardship, that was for sure, but I was still uncomfortable. Luckily, he turned his body toward the large group of women across from me, and I was free to ogle his sculpted ass without his watching me in turn. That worked better for me and, I suppose, this was better than the pre-K T-ball game they had me cover last night.
Less noise. Much nicer view.
My phone vibrated on the table, and I scowled at it. My boyfriend, Brian, had a jealous side. And an angry side. Really, he was just an insecure asshole. I knew I could do better, even though he liked to tell me I couldn’t. Really, who had time to date around?
And the texts just kept coming through, one after another.
Where are you?
When are you coming home?
Who are you with?
I scowled, drinking faster. Work was work, but I needed to get home before Brian lost his mind, or worse yet, showed up here.
Determined to get enough for a five-hundred-word column, I turned my attention back to the stage—not that doing so was any kind of hardship. The dancer was doing a unique booty dance as he slowly turned in a circle, working the room from all angles. I glanced down at my phone as he faced me, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I was here for a story, not to throw money away or beg for male attention.
I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I forced myself not to look up. I didn’t need to. His dark olive skin glistened under the lights, and those muscles were burned into the recesses of my brain, at least for tonight. I all but held my breath while he stared. When I felt him shift, I finished off my drink and tossed a few bills on the table to cover a tip.
My phone buzzed again and I stood, taking one last long stare at his departing backside as he strolled off the stage. I had enough for a decent column. For my own sanity now, I think, it was time to get home.
* * *
“Norah, baby, I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again.”
I glared up at Brian from my spot on the floor and gingerly touched the skin around my eye with two fingers. To his credit, he did look appalled; to my credit, it was one wild fist to the eye too late for that.
When I was sure no skin had been broken, I leapt to my feet with my fists out in front of me. “Get out!”
The second round of apologies began, but I didn’t care. I had heard it all before. The only difference between all those times and tonight was this was the first time he’d actually hit me.
“Baby, c’mon, don’t be like that. You know I love you. You didn’t answer my texts and I freaked. I’m sorry, baby. Let’s forget all about it. I’ll order in some Chinese, and we can have a picnic on the patio and stay in tonight. I just need you all to myself.”
“Not this time, Brian. Leave now, or I’m calling the cops.”
His face changed instantly at the threat and he stepped toward me with a menacing scowl. “Who do you think you are?”
He made no move to leave as I slid my phone out of my pocket and began to dial. I understood. He didn’t think I’d really do it. We’d been here before.
My eye was swelling, making the numbers on the small cellular more difficult to read by the minute. I stared him square in the eye, with a defiant look on my face and pushed the send button.
Brian’s face changed from an expression of menace to rage to disgust in a split second. I flinched, but managed not to duck when his fist made contact with the wall behind me. This was my home, and I wasn’t going to be bullied in it. Not tonight. Not anymore.
“You stupid worthless bitch. Just remember, when I walk out that door, you’re all alone. Nobody else wants you, and they never will. How could they, especially once they find out about your”—he looked me up and down as if I were disgusting, sneering—“issues? You’re a nothing, a nobody. You don’t matter.”
