Page 75 of Dance of Ruin

“Yeah,” Vaughn mutters. “I know who you are.” He lowers his gaze, then lifts it again. “I’m sorry about what happened to your sister,” he adds, losing the sneering tone for once.

I just nod, jaw still tight.

Vaughn pats his pockets again. I begrudgingly yank out my own lighter and toss it his way. He catches it in one hand with a smug, cocky nod of his chin.

“Thanks,” he mutters, deftly lighting the cigarette in his lips before throwing the lighter back. He takes a drag, his eyes locked on me for a few seconds before they flit to Naomi. Then back to me. Then to her again.

He grins lopsidedly, raising a brow.

“So…” he points between us with his cigarette. “When’s the wedding?”

My eyes narrow. Naomi’s cheeks turn crimson as she purses her lips.

“It’s notlikethat,” she says testily. “It’s…” She shrugs, not looking at me. “We’re just friends.”

Vaughn chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “Sure you are,” he says dryly.

“I wouldappreciate it,” Naomi mumbles, her face still red, “if you kept this to yourself.” She shoots him a look that still pisses me off. “Like I’ve kept certain aspects ofyourlife tomyself?”

Vaughn nods slowly. “Heard, loud and clear.” He glances back to me, not seeming to care about the daggers coming out of my eyes aimed in his general direction. He turns back to Naomi. “So, you two are just fuck-buddies then?”

“Surely you’ve got a tutu to put on and some twirling to do,” I grunt at him.

Vaughn chuckles. “Any time you feel like dancing again, blue eyes, let me know.”

“I’m free right the fuck now,” I snarl.

Vaughn flicks his cigarette away and rolls his neck. “Let’s see who spins like a little bitch when?—”

“Vaughn,” Naomi snaps, halting him as he steps toward me. “I’ll see you inside in a minute. After I’ve had a second to talk with him.Alone?”

Vaughn grinds his jaw, but nods as he looks at Naomi. “Five minutes. Or I’m coming back out here and teaching your boyfriend how to shut his fucking mouth.”

“Dance like no one is watching, motherfucker,” I mutter as he shoulders past me and opens the door to the theater.

After he leaves, Naomi spins to face me, eyes blazing.

“What thehellwas that?”

My pulse is still racing. I want to hit something. Not him.Obviouslynot her. Just…something, to send this rage somewhere other than the center of my chest.

“We have an arrangement,” I growl. “You broke it.”

She throws her hands up. “I have towork,Nico. This is myjob.Not some little hobby to pass the time!”

“We meet at eight every morning. That was the deal.”

“I’m not a robot!” she fires back. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to wake up early, go to your office, do…” She blushes. “Do…that?—”

“Use your words.”

She looks sideways at me. “Yourbidding,” she finally mutters. “And then schlep all the way back to the theater, where I’ll get my ass handed to me a dozen times by my sadistic artistic director, after which, I’ll stay late and put in some extra work on my own before limping home, crashing, and doing it all over again.”

“If this is you trying to get out of our arrangement, it’s not working.”

She exhales in exasperation. “And now you get to decide who I talk to as well?”

“You don’t talk to other men,” I growl, stepping in close. “It’s very simple.”

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