Page 17 of The Dollhouse

“Roman’s in charge of the Dollhouse now,” I told her, watching as her reaction changed. Pure, undiluted shock covered her features, meaning she didn’t know. “He told Autumn he didn’t want me working on the weekends.”

The Dollhouse on the weekend was like Disney World for adults. During the week? It was like a gas station in the middle of nowhere, full of weirdos who had nothing better to do during their weeknights than to come ogle some scantily-clad women.

Crystal’s mouth fell open. “What? Why?”

I shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me why.”

“Girl, I have no idea,” she said. “He never demanded anyone’s schedule be changed before.” She shook her head slightly. “Wait, what do you mean he’s in charge of the Dollhouse now?”

“He’s buying it. I think it’s pretty much a done deal now, since Autumn did what he told her to.” Autumn never seemed like a pushover to me, but I guess there was a first time for everything. Even a stuck-up bitch could be fearful for her life in the face of a feral animal.

That’s all Roman was. A feral animal with style.

She shut her eyes, shaking her head again. “I don’t understand why. I mean, nothing has changed, except…” Crystal’s blue eyes opened, and those azure orbs landed on me, studying me in a new light. “Except you.”

“I can’t be the first new girl to start working there.”

“No, but he was interested in you from day one. He wanted to see you again, pulled me aside and demanded to know when you’d be working next,” Crystal explained, coming to the only conclusion she could: “He’s doing it for you, Zoey. It’s all for you.”

I was a fan of grand, romantic gestures as much as the next girl, but buying my new place of employment, demanding I only work during the week, and acting like he owned my time like that after two whole encounters with the guy? I was sure his dick was nice, but no dick wasthatnice.

“Come on,” I said. “Surely he’s done something crazy like this for you?”

“All he’s ever done is take me into the back and give me a nice tip afterward.” Crystal bit her bottom lip, scrutinizing me in a way I didn’t like, as if she wondered what the hell I had that she didn’t. Or maybe that was all in my head, since it was pounded into my brain that everything between two pretty girls always had to be some sort of competition.

Maybe that wasn’t what this was about. Maybe what happened with Willow and Bryan skewed my opinion of other women. Maybe Crystal was just worried about me, and she didn’t want to see me fall into Roman’s greedy, rough hands.

“I’ve never heard about him changing everything up,” she went on, puckering her lips as she tilted her head. “You really should be careful. It might seem like it’s all sex, but… Roman is not like any other man I’ve met, and Carter? If Roman told him to kill you, I’m sure he’d do it with no hesitation.”

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. That laughter died when I remembered what Roman had told me, after I’d asked him what he did. He pretty much flat-out told me he killed people for a living, so that was more plausible than anything else.

Shit. This really was a mess of epic proportions, wasn’t it? I was only supposed to scrape by, not get myself tangled in a complicated web like this.

As I stared at Crystal, an idea began to form in my head. I might be caught in Roman’s web, but I wasn’t trapped. I could still make my own plays, show him that he didn’t own me like he thought he did.

I might only piss him off, but that was a chance I was willing to take. Knowing how dangerous he was, knowing Carter would do anything he said… it was wrong, but the knowledge made me feel more alive.

“You want to help me out?” I asked, for the first time in a few hours, feeling oddly calm about all of it now. I couldn’t say why, but hearing Crystal confirm that Roman had never done anything like this before for any other girl made me feel an odd type of content. Like, deep down, whatever was going to happen was inevitable. Might as well enjoy the ride.

Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “Should I start some coffee?”

I gave her a nod. “I think that might be best.”

Crystal got up, headed to her small kitchenette, and turned on her coffee pot. What I had in mind was something a little devious and a whole lot of sexy, and I knew it would enrage the fuck out of Roman if he saw it.

That’s what I wanted, though. He didn’t want me working weekends? Fine, but I was going to dance.

The lights were dimmed for me, but even then, I still thought they were too bright. I didn’t know if Roman and Carter would show up tonight, but I figured I’d squeeze in a dance every night until they came. I wore my pink shoes; they weren’t sexy, but they matched my hair and I liked them. They were comfortable. A black, all-cotton square of fabric sat on my hips, covering most of my ass and the private bits in the front. A matching top hugged my chest, my flat stomach and tattoos on display for all to see.

Of course, no one was in yet. The doors hadn’t opened for the patrons tonight yet. Crystal was working, and she told me to go up on stage and get a feel for it. Practicing with her in her apartment—and in conjunction alone in mine—was not the same as actually being on the stage, swinging around that pole yourself.

It was something that took work, and a hell of a lot more practice than two days. Because of that, I didn’t plan on focusing on the pole too much. No way would I ever be able to hoist myself up and twirl around it like some of these girls could; that took practice and a lot more muscle than I had.

The truth was most of these women could probably beat me up with one hand.

I held onto the pole, spinning around it once, slowly. That—along with using the pole as a backdrop to my dancing—would be my extent of using it. It wouldn’t be the sexiest dance anyone here had ever seen, but everyone had to start out somewhere.

Crystal stood at the base of the stage down in front, watching me. I kept my question to myself while learning moves from her; somehow, asking her if she was jealous of Roman’s attention didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want to alienate her, because she was the reason I got this job, after all. At least, not unless I was certain she was envious of me.

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