Page 3 of The Dancer

My heart beats harshly against my ribs, my hands gripped firmly on the table edge. My breathing is shallow as I watch her slowly peel off her clothes. With each layer my blood pressure climbs as I war with myself between wanting to see more of her flawless skin and wanting her to stop showing all the men in attendance.

My cock is a lead pipe in my charcoal suit pants, and I want nothing more than to steal her away and rutt her into nextweek.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This isn’t normal for me. Fuck knows I can’t even remember the last time I had sex, and now it is the only thing I can think about. I don’t know anything of this woman, but already she is working her way under my skin, crawling into my mind, and making a home for herself.

Her show comes to a close, and she is seated directly in front of our table, straddling a chair, wearing nothing but a powder blue thong and two large deep blue feathers covering her breasts. It is the sexiest fucking thing I have seen in my life, and I have yet to see her naked.

The lights go down, and I can hear her leaving the stage. Even with my heightened eyesight, I can’t glimpse her. Only a few moments pass before the lights return, and the stage is empty.

“Alpha Anderson,” I hear a man beside me. “My name is Abel Johnson, and I’m honored to welcome you to my establishment. Please let me know if you need anything while you are here.”

I don’t even hesitate before the words slip from my lips.

“Her.” I nod my head in the direction of the stage. “I want a private dance.”

The man named Abel pales at my words but doesn’t object. Instead, he nods before heading off to fulfill my wishes.

Chapter Three

Quinn

The moment I step from the back, Abel has a sizeable calloused hand wrapped around my elbow as he leads me to one of the back rooms. In my three years here, I have never given a private dance. It’s my hard limit. I don’t spend one-on-one time with clients. Ever.

I pull to a stop outside the closed door and wait for Abel to look at me. He knows exactly what I am waiting for. He better explain what the hell is going on before I walk out of here tonight and never look back. Job be damned.

“Quinn,” he says lowly, rubbing a hand over his face. I know this is something big when he uses my name instead of calling me Dancer.

“Abel, you’re kind of freaking me out.” I can feel the nervous energy pouring off him in waves and it is making me jittery.

“I’ve never asked you to do this and always respected that it was a hard limit for you. But I need you to do a private dance tonight.”

I’ve never heard my hard-ass boss plead with anyone. Abel is always confident and in charge, and the way he is acting right now doesn’t make me feel even the slightest bit safe. It actually makes me want to run in the other direction and never look back.

“Who is in there?” I’m not sure I want to know but I ask the question regardless.

“Elias Anderson.”

When I don’t say anything, he explains what he clearly thought I would know.

“He is one of the most powerful Alphas in the United States. He commands one of the largest packs on the damncontinent. How do you not know this?”

“Not being part of a pack means you don’t care about stuff like that, Abel,” I throw back at him. “I’m not part of the dynamics, so I don’t give a shit about the politics.”

“Elias Anderson is the Alpha of the Whychwood pack and the owner of Whychwood Industries. He is the most powerful man we will ever meet and asked for you specifically.”

“Abel,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I will give you anything you want if you do this for me.” I know he is always looking for ways to build bridges with powerful Alphas.

I watch him closely, assessing him carefully. He really is desperate, and I am going to use that to my advantage. If he wants to use me, I will be returning the favor.

“I’m done dancing,” I make sure to speak loudly so he hears me. “I want the manager’s position.”

“Done.”

“Fine.” That was so much easier than I thought it would be.

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