Page 26 of Assassin's Obsession

I'm not sure that would translate into real life.

Because he's over the top protective of me without making any sort of moves on me. I'm grateful. I really am. And I know it's greedy to want more.

I remind myself of that even when I touch myself in bed thinking about him.

I've never had much of a sex drive. But since that first night I saw him skewer a guy's hand for trying to touch me, I get horny a lot more. And it's always from thinking about Angelo.

As soon as Cookie leaves for school and mom is busy elsewhere in the apartment, my hand slides between my thighs while I fantasize about Angelo Caruso until I have to bite my pillow to muffle the scream from my climax.

Angelo might be here every night doing business for the mafia and him being in the VIP area when I dance is just acoincidence. That's more likely than him crushing on me like I'm fixated on him.

Because he doesn't come anywhere near me. Not for a dance, not even to talk. He sends tips through the bartenders though. So, even if he's not here for me, he pays attention to me.

One of the bartenders tried to shortchange me my tips and she was gone the next day. Like completely ghosted. She didn't show up for work that night, didn't answer her cell phone when the manager called, trying to track her down, and never came in for her final paycheck.

We heard from one of the dancers who used to hang out with her that she left New York. The state, not just the city.

No one has tried to skim my tips since.

When everything was going down with Gino trying to force me and Bianca to do extracurriculars, a secret part of me hoped Angelo would hear about it and set Gino straight like he did that guy whose hand he skewered.

I didn't want to have to find a new club to dance in, but Gino really tried to mess me over and things were getting desperate. Turns out, Bianca told her new boyfriend what was happening, and he fired Gino before I had to quit my job.

I'm pretty sure that Angelo did something to my old boss anyway and that same secret part of me is glad. People whisper about how the smarmy assistant manager disappeared, and they don't mean that he up and left the city.

It's on brand for the Angel of Death.

He goes all in when it comes to making a point about my personal space.

No matter why he's protecting me, I have a serious lady boner for Death.

He's not even a decade older than me, so it's not daddy issues. No matter what the psychologists might think, I got over having a sperm donor rather than a father a long time ago.

It's the issue of feeling safe and I've spent most of my life not feeling that way. Even after coming to live with mom in the tiny apartment filled with love if not a bunch of material things.

So, now, I dance for the only man in the room I want to think about, my body flowing through the special routine I created just for him. I pretended I was choreographing a routine to do for my boyfriend, Angelo's handsome face and deadly stare my secret inspiration.

No other man could star in my fantasies like my warrior angel. Fantasies are all I will ever have of Angelo. His distance has made that abundantly obvious.

But I'll take fantasies of my warrior angel over dates with anyone else.

No one can compare to him and the safety I feel in his presence. Lately that feeling of safety has even been expanded to when I am home. His presence is that powerful in my mind.

It's almost as if he is watching me. Sometimes, I feel like he's in the room with me.

Piper's music fades and then the sensual thrum ofCloserby Nine Inch Nails starts to play. An orange spotlight bathes me in its glow, and I move into a spin that takes me up the pole.

Perfect for my new routine, the beat reverberates through my body practically leading me into my spins and pole splits. If the lyrics get me hot pretending they are about me and a certain mafioso, no one else has to know.

Doing the splits against the pole, I spin around with my hair flying behind me. Tonight, it is not up in a ponytail, but loose. Instead of straightening it, I left it to fall in soft waves around my face. My dark hair and sexy outfit might make most people have less than angelic thoughts, but dancing is like being in heaven for me.

And I stay there through my whole spotlight set.

I remove my outer toga after a lot of teasing midway through the last song. The orange spotlight goes off and the customers shout their disappointment. But then I'm bathed in a blacklight spot, making all the bits that are meant to glow.

Is it my imagination, or are Angelo's eyes burning into me?

Holding myself on the pole with my thighs, I face his shadowed corner and cup my breasts in offering.

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