Page 14 of Veil of Secrets

“Well, so do grease fires. Doesn’t mean you bring one home.”

Giorgia looks over her shoulder. “El. This isn’t nothing.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“But you’re pretending it is.”

I toss the used wipe onto the counter, wipe my hands on my thighs.

“He’s just sniffing around,” I say. “Guys like him don’t stick with dancers unless they’re bored or trying to stir shit.”

“Exactly. Which is why you should care.”

She finally looks at me, really looks. Her gaze is steady, not accusing—just... knowing.

“This ain’t about lap dances,” she says. “This is about power.”

“I’m not chasing that.”

“No. But power might be chasing you.”

I lean forward and grab my bag from the counter, unzip it like the noise will drown her out. She doesn’t push. She never does. Giorgia’s smart that way. She plants things. Then watches to see what grows.

I don’t like what’s growing.

The door opens again.

My gut tightens before I even turn.

Vince.

The bastard doesn’t knock, doesn’t announce. Just strolls in like he owns the damn club. Maybe he does. In pieces, anyway.

He’s in a navy suit, shirt collar open, no tie. Too clean for a place like this. The kind of clean that means he doesn’t stay long enough to sweat.

“Ladies,” he says. “Hope I’m not interrupting the beauty routine.”

Giorgia moves past him without looking and disappears into the shower room.

Coward.

I turn back to the mirror. “If you’re looking for a private show, the VIP lounge is downstairs.”

Vince leans against the wall, arms folded. “I’m not here for a dance.”

“Then get to the point.”

He smiles. I hate the way he does it—like every word out of his mouth is a favor you didn’t ask for.

“Just wanted to check in,” he says. “Word’s out that Nico’s been taking a... personal interest.”

I meet his eyes through the mirror.

“Didn’t realize my social life was part of club policy.”

“It isn’t. But Nico’s plans tend to spill over.”

I grab my shirt and pull it over my head, still watching him through the glass.

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