Page 24 of Assassin's Obsession

Stalker. As if.

I shrug.

"The customers like an angel with big tatas," one of the other dancer's says. "Makes them feel naughty for lusting after her."

"I'm surprised that gold angel costume doesn't bring back bad memories," Piper opines. "I burned my biker chick outfit after that backroom group lap dance that went wrong a couple years back."

Bywent wrongPiper means the attack left her hollow eyed and too banged up to dance for two weeks. Just another example of people believing that workers in the sex industry give up their rights to safety, much less to say the wordno.

Humanity sucks sometimes.

Bianca doesn't though. She's fighting for all of us to be protected in ways a lot of strip clubs wouldn't even consider. Doesn't matter to her if the dancers provide extra curriculars, or not, either.

They all get health insurance and paid sick leave now. When they're out sick more than one shift, with a doctor's note to back it up, they don't have to pay the nightly fee for using the backrooms either. They used to have to pay it whether they were here, or not.

The bouncers are now trained to put the safety of the dancers and waitstaff ahead of a positive customer experience.

Grateful for the changes in the club since my bestie took over talent management, I answer Piper's question about wearing my gold angel outfit. "When I wear it, I remember a man I'd barely met rushing across a crowded club to help me."

Just thinking about Angelo's speed and intensity now makes me wet like dancing for the punters with all their lust-filled gazes stuck on me never does.

And yeah, I do wear the angel costumes because they make me think of him. But that, I'm not saying out loud.

Piper tsks but she doesn't say anything in reply.

I take one last look in the mirror before turning away. "That wasn't the first time I was assaulted on the floor, but it was the first time someone besides another employee stepped in."

Piper gives two high kicks to test the adhesion of the body tape holding her six-inch heels on. "You couldn't rely on the bouncers under Gino's watch, that's for sure."

"Amen to that, sister," the other dancer says as she joins us at the curtain.

The music volume goes up a few decibels and Jessie Ware'sWhat's Your Pleasurestarts to play. That's my cue and I strut out onto the stage, playing to the customers along the way to my pole.

I have to step down off the center stage and walk six feet to the private stage with a single pole that I'm on tonight. I'm tense with awareness crossing those six feet of space on the main floor, but I hide my tension with a slinky glide up the steps to my platform.

As the whir of the retracting stairway sounds, removing easy access to the stage for customers, I let out a breath. During the other dancer's music, I go through a placeholder routine I choreographed a long time ago and use at least once a week.

It's a little tease and a lot of jiggle, but I don't do the moves that garner the most attention because this is not my spotlight.

My muscles relax, making every move easier and more fluid. For a second, I think it's the familiarity of the music that has the tension draining from my body.

But then I realize the truth. He's here.

I can't see him, but I feel his eyes on me.

Angelo Caruso.

I know who he is now.Whathe is.

They call him the Angel of Death and he's the top enforcer and assassin for the new Cosa Nostra godfather. Not that any of us are supposed to know that, but Piper told me.

She told me to keep my trap shut about it too because knowing too much about the mafia can get you killed. Only she said I should know who he is so I can make an informed decision.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to decide about though.

Angelo's only ever spoken a handful of words to me.

It's not like we're dating, or something. Not even if I memorized every single one of those words.

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