Page 48 of Ruthless Lullaby

I groan, burying my face in my hands. "It's not so much the billionaire thing or the mystery man vibes, Bets. It’s… the chemistry we have. It’s insane. Like,‘never-felt-anything-like-it’insane."

Betty takes a seat next to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. "Well Min, you can't help who you're drawn to. And from where I'm sitting, it looks like there's some serious attraction between you and Mr. Tall, Dark, Broody, and Dangerous. You look like a whole new person."

I peek out from behind my fingers, my heart doing a little flip at the thought of Maron's intense gaze and wicked smirk. "I do?"

"Babe, I sense electricity even when I don't see it," Betty says with a sage nod. "And I don’t know what you two have going on, but judging by your looks, it’s the kind of thing that could power a small city."

I can't help but laugh. "You make it sound like a cheesy romance novel." I stand up. "I need to get dressed, Bets. I have another gig at New York High tonight. Some more sketchy assholes to entertain, I suppose."

Betty grins, giving me a quick hug before standing up and surveying the designer bounty laid out before us.

"Alright, then. How about we find you a dress that'll make those assholes forget their own names?" She lifts the slinky, emerald green number that looks like it was made to hug every one of my curves. "Wear this," Betty urges. She smirks knowingly as I step into the gown, letting the cool silk slide over my skin. When I turn to face the mirror, I can't help but gasp.

It fits like a dream. It clings to my curves in all the right places, making me look like I just stepped off a runway. The rich, jewel-toned color makes my skin glow, and the plunging neckline shows off just enough cleavage to be sexy without veering into tacky territory.

"Damn, girl," Betty breathes, coming up behind me to adjust the delicate straps. "If looks could kill, you'd be leaving a trail of bodies in your wake."

"Thanks, babe," I smile at my friend, taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders. "Time to go break some hearts and earn some tips."

Betty laughs, giving me a playful swat on the rear as I grab my purse and head for the door. "That's my girl. Go show them who's boss!"She stops for a moment. "Wait, Min. Is Maron going to be at the bar tonight?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I doubt it. I didn’t tell him about my next show." I check my watch. "My Uber will be here in ten minutes. I might be out till late tonight, so don't wait up for me."

Betty gives me a surprised look. "Uber? Where's your car?"

"Alexis borrowed it."

Betty's expression turns into a frown. "Alexis? Do you trust your sister to take your car?"

I grab my bag and head towards the door. "Well, her own car is in the shop, and she wanted to visit Mom in the hospital. I figured I'd give her a chance this time."

"I see." There is a hint of suspicion in Betty's voice that makes me feel uncomfortable, but I don't have time to address it. She dismisses me with a wave. "Go, give those drunkards a good show with your sultry, sexy voice, Mindy."

A few minutes after saying goodbye to my bestie, I’m in the Uber, navigating through the chaotic evening traffic on the way to New York High. While I take a few minutes to remind myself of my set and mentally prepare for the show, a strange thought keeps nagging at me: I could really use a whiff of sandalwood and cedar, with a hint of something seductive and scandalous, right now.

Yes, it's a strange and secret desire.

Because deep down, I’m hoping that Maron Korolev will be sitting in the front row of the audience.

Chapter Nineteen

Mindy

Maron didn’t show up at New York High tonight.

I'm standing on the stage, and I can't shake off this feeling of disappointment. Scratch that, it's more than just a feeling – it's a desire to sing to him and only to him. There is something incredibly hot about standing on stage with him watching me. The mere thought of it makes me feel that familiar tingling down below.

Cut it out, Mindy, this is not the time!

As the final notes of my last song fade away, the bar erupts into a smattering of drunken applause and wolf whistles. Shouts and slurred words fill the air, and the audience's intoxicated enthusiasm is on full display.

"Encore, encore!" one guy yells, raising his beer bottle in the air.

"Sing us another one, gorgeous!" another calls out, his words slightly muffled by the din of the crowd.

"You've got the voice of an angel, babe!" a third chimes in, his eyes glazed over by a mix of alcohol and admiration.

"How about a private show?" a particularly bold patron suggests, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

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