Page 14 of Ruthless God

But then he pulls out a thick stack of cash.

And tosses it onto the stage.

I meet his masked gaze, tilting my head slightly before flashing him a slow, knowing wink. Then, without another glance, I turn and walk away.

I know what he expected.

He expected me to bend down and pick up the money, to acknowledge him like every other girl probably would.

Which is exactly why I don’t.

The stage attendant will handle collecting the money. I’m not worried about that. But leaving it there? That sends a message. A challenge.

Let’s see how Ghosty handles that.

The second I step backstage, Jade is on me, grabbing my arm and shaking it in pure excitement.

“Oh my god! I taught you so well!”

I laugh and take the hand towel she’s offering to dab my forehead and neck.

“Let me guess. You were in the DJ booth?”

“Sure was.” She shakes my arm again. “You have him hooked! Hurry and get out there! I want to see what happens.”

“Let me touch up my make-up.”

She shakes her head, laughing. “The student has officially become the teacher.”

“Let’s not get crazy. He might see it as a dig that I didn’t pick up the cash.”

“You didn’t see the way he watched you walk away. He stood there until you disappeared behind the curtain. Girl, you have him hooked.”

I grin, because I can’t deny it. Jade isn’t wrong. Ifeltit. I know it sounds crazy. The guy was wearing a mask, for crying out loud. But even with his face hidden, the heat between us was undeniable.

Maybe that’s why I take my time backstage, fluffing my hair, carefully reapplying my clown makeup. Ridiculous? Absolutely. Even so, I smooth out every exaggerated black line around my eyes, sharpen the angles, perfect it. I even spritz on alittle perfume—just a touch, something subtle, something that lingers.

By the time I step out onto the main floor, I know exactly what I’m doing. The whole point of making rounds is to get noticed. To entice someone enough that they ask for a lap dance, or even better, a private dance. And if I really play my cards right? An invitation to the champagne room.

But tonight?

I don’t want just anyone to stop me.

I want him.

As I move through the club, I let my body sway just a little more, my steps slow, deliberate, confident. The lights catch the shimmer of my stockings, the soft sway of my hair. I walk right past his table, close enough that he can see me, smell me, feel the deliberate brush of my presence.

And then his hand shoots out.

Strong fingers wrap around my wrist, firm, commanding, sending a jolt of electricity straight through me.

I stop.

Slowly, I turn to face him, tilting my chin up just enough to meet his masked gaze.

Gotcha.

“That was quite a performance you put on, Ruby.”

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