Page 3 of Dance with the Devil

The man spins on his heels, looming over her, but the much smaller Jessie tilts her head back, jutting her chin as she says something to him.

As though summoned by the commotion, two guys in black suits appear just as suddenly behind her. She angrily waves them off, her body language making it clear she’s more than willing to handle the handsy customer on her own.

I bump Christopher with my hip. “My fucking God, she’s going to eat you alive.”

Christopher’s dark eyes light up. “If there is a God, I hope she will.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” One of the suits leans down, saying something to Jessie. She reluctantly nods, and the guy grabs the customer by the arm, muscling him away from the bar. Jessie tosses her hair over her shoulder, slams her tray on the countertop, and leans over to talk to the bartender. Christopher is watching her every move as if hypnotized. I nudge him. “Go say hi.”

“She just got groped, Gen. I don’t think she’ll want to be hit on right now.”

“Or maybe she’ll appreciate a good guy who won’t cop a feel because she’s working the dance floor,” I point out.

Christopher narrows his gaze, looking as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”

I give him my most innocent expression. “Me? Why would you say that?”

“Because I know you, Genevieve?—”

“Ooh. Full name. I’m in trouble.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over. “I call you Christopher all the time. Does that mean, if I shortened you to ‘Chris’, that’s when you’re in trouble?”

Christopher exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I grin. “You’ve been hanging around my brother too much. When I get on his last nerves, Dame makes the same exact face you just did.”

“Forget it. I know what you’re up to.” He glances at the bar again—and takes a step closer when he notices that Jessie is still hanging around there. “And there’s nothing I can do about it right now. Fuck it. I need a drink.”

Huh. That’s a new record. We’ve only been at the Playground for about ten minutes. Usually Christopher makes it at least a half an hour before he has his first gin and tonic in hand. Too worried that I’ll get into trouble—and thenhe’llget into trouble with my brother—he stays sober while we have these secret nights out. He’s my ride, after all, but I consider it a success if I work the uptight Christopher enough for him to have two drinks before he inevitably announces it’s time to leave.

But if he wants an excuse to go to the bar…

“Ooh. Get me a piña colada if you’re heading that way.”

His lips purse a little, like he’s trying to hide his smile. “Virgin, right?”

And… that’s what I get for poking at him earlier.

“Haha,” I say dryly. “Very funny.”

I don’t drink alcohol. That’s a leftover from my hardcore ballet days. I still audition. I still train and practice and dance every day. But now that I’m responsible for myself, instead of studying under Madame Durand, I don’t freak out about gainingounces like I used to. I’ll splurge with a mocktail, but even I can’t bring myself to indulge in actual alcohol—and Christopher knows it.

More than that, he encourages it because we both know I’m already enough of a handful without booze. Add it and who knows what kind of trouble I could get into.

Still, as much as I tease Christopher, he gets his back whenever he can. He’s happy to swap lovers frequently, nowhere near ready to settle down at twenty-five. And then there’s me. I’ve kissed guys before, but that’s as far as it’s gone, and Christopher knows that, too.

He also knows how much it irks me that, between my family and my career, I’ve missed out on so many life experiences normal people my age have had which is why, in his way, he enables me sneaking out so that I at least havesomeof them.

But that doesn’t stop him from saying, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time. I’m going to go dance on the floor for a bit.”

“Gen—”

I roll my eyes. “I know. Don’t draw attention to myself. It’s an upbeat dance song, Christopher, not a piece by Tchaikovsky. I’m not about to do pirouettes and arabesques in the middle of the dance floor. No one will even notice me.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

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