Page 9 of Watch Me

I roll my eyes. “I suppose.”

“Stop,” he demands. “I know you too well. Everyone else may buy your puffed-up bitch act, but we both know better. It took me years to realize you’re not half as haughty as you are afraid. You hate being vulnerable, and you’re trembling at the thought of not holding that trophy so you can finally exorcise your mother’s ghost and prove to your family that you’re a champion. Is Daddy’s opinion really more important than friendship?”

Ouch.

Jonathan goes on as if he hasn't wounded me. “It’s time to stand by your partner. Shanna, you should know by now that winning at all costs to please your impossible family isn’t worth throwing people under the bus.”

God, he has my number.

“Have you taken up psychotherapy on the side, Freud?”

“Just calling your bluff.”

“I came to you for help, and you're giving me hell.”

“I’m giving you the truth,” Jonathan murmurs, looking like he wants to say more on the subject. Mercifully, he doesn’t. “Do you have any other information about the video or its delivery that might help you track down the blackmailer? Or does Kristoff know anything about how it was made?”

“Kristoff doesn't have a clue. But last night, the owner of the sex club in which the footage was filmed used his silver tongue to try and dirty-talk me out of my panties. If the event hadn’t been for charity?—”

“Wait. You know where the tape was made?”

I nod. “A place called Sneak Peek.”

“The club for voyeurs and exhibitionists in the Hills?”

Jonathan knows about that place? “Yes.”

He sits back in his chair, a taunting smile curling up his mouth. He looks at me as if he knows being watched makes me wet. Does he? Does every man who watches me dance?

Thankfully, he doesn't go there. “So when you danced with this man, did you talk to him, ask what he knows about the video and its creation?”

“No.” I was too busy resisting his seduction and fending off his unnerving ability to see past my defenses. I’m still shocked that, despite barely knowing me, he guessed my most shameful secret.

“There you go.” He shrugs. “Maybe he can help you track down who’s blackmailing Kristoff.”

I grip my tea. Jonathan is right. The answer has been staring me in the face. Alejandro can find out exactly who filmed Kristoff. In fact, he might be the only person who can.

All I have to do is put myself in his path again and pray I stay strong, despite the fact that, when it comes to resisting him, I feel very, very weak.

6

Alejandro

“Ineed your help.”

At those trembling words, I look up at the female hovering in the door of my office. Platinum hair pulled tightly away from her unusually pale face. Blue eyes smudged with the bruises of sleeplessness. Shanna York. Here, in my office.

Well, isn't this an interesting start to my day?

“Long trip to the ladies’ room,” I drawl as I stand and face her.

She lifts her chin—her silent way of telling me she’s not sorry she deserted me last night. I’m hardly shocked. I came on too strong again, and I’ll change my tactics. For now, I’m simply enjoying the fact she’s sought me out.

“I needed to put space between us.”

“And today you don’t? Today, I'm supposed to forget that I enjoyed a dance and a half, rather than the eight I paid for.”

“You gave that money to charity.”

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