Page 41 of Wrath
Misha arrivedin the VIP area and scanned the place for the mysterious important guest, but found only two groups of patrons, and one was being seen to by Katarina. Dominika was at the bar collecting drinks, presumably serving the other group.
Thank god the Nazi wasn’t there, but maybe that was who Dimitri saved her for. A shudder wracked her body, and she had to disguise it with a lusty shimmy. Seeing the group of awaiting business men without a dancer, Misha went to entertain. The number one rule in this place was not to leave a paying customer wanting. She’d barely said hello when Dominika returned with a tray of drinks and a stony look in her eyes. In other words,Get away from my clients, girl.
Sorry.Misha backed away and winked. Guess there was nothing for her to do there but wait. She strode to the bar.
“Wassup, Joe?” she said to the barman. “You mind if I stash my tips here until we finish?”
Chewing on gum, the man winked at her and pulled out an empty glass. “Here you go, hotcakes.”
“Thanks.” She pulled out the bills lining her thong and leaned over the bar to shove them in the glass. Usually she went back to the dressing room to safely store them in her locker, but tonight… she was hesitant to do anything against Dimitri’s wishes. He specifically said to head up to the VIP area and wait for the special client. She’d rather lose all her tips to the thieving that would no doubt occur the moment she turned her back, than to go to her dressing room now.
Someone tapped on her shoulder. It was the VIP bouncer. “Hi, Sam.”
He grunted and pointed with his thumb to one of the private rooms. He slapped a load of cash in her hands and then went back to his position, watching over the floor with complete boredom.
A private lap dance, already? She counted the money. Holy goddess… Five hundred. She eyed the patrons. All were present. This was someone new. She gulped. The important customer.
Okay, Misha. Here you go. Become The Duchess.
Five-hundred would cover another week’s rent for the studio. Since she’d had to cancel a few classes the previous week, it would be more than welcome.
She closed her eyes, imagined a stuck-up royal woman who took shit from nobody. She didn’t even like the word shit. She said defecation.I own the world. The world falls at my feet. I can handle anything.
Opening her eyes, she pasted a haughty expression on her face and glided up to Sam.
“This one, darling?” She pointed at the door on the right.
He shook his head and thumbed left.
Right, then.
“How dare you request me,” she began, fully in character as she opened the door. “Nobody makes demands of The Duch—”
Her words lodged in her throat.
Wyatt’s muscular frame squashed into the single chair in the center of the small room. His large hands were white-knuckled as they gripped the chair arms, and he watched her with a gaze burning so hot she felt it in the air. Dressed in a polo shirt, sports coat and dark jeans—he didn’t look quite himself. Even his hair was neatly brushed.
She quickly closed the door and held her hand to the flat surface, breathing deep to calm her nerves. So many thoughts crashed through her mind.It was Wyatt.He knew her family. Did that mean they all knew she worked there? What if he was actually there for a lap dance, then why the hell did he look so pissed and confrontational? What the hell was going on? Wait a minute, was Wyatt the special customer?
No. Impossible.
So, how did he know about this job?
The only other person who knew where she worked was Lilo. Shit. Lilo was dating Wyatt’s brother. That must be it. Damned Lilo and her blabber mouth.
Keenly aware of the red, steady flash of light from the ceiling camera in her periphery, she pushed down her shock, whirled around and walked up to him, snaking her legs and fingering her pearls seductively. The closer she got, the more uncomfortable he looked. That fever in his eyes melted.
You paid for a lap dance. You get one.At least for the cameras, anyway.
When she reached him, she bent seductively at the hips, pushed her ass out, and placed her palms on his knees, looking deeply into his eyes. He made a valiant effort not to stare at her sticker covered breasts, hanging perilously close to his face. It gave her great pleasure to see she unnerved him, especially when he’d just done the same.
Now the fact was sinking in, she became increasingly irritated he’d chased her down. She hated people from her normal life coming to this club, plus, his presence could piss Dimitri off. He could think she was disobeying him again. If the men he beat up at the restaurant were about, they’d recognize him.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed at Wyatt but did a shimmy for their audience.
He darted a glance to the cameras.
“It’s only a visual feed,” she explained. “Just to make sure the customers don’t get too frisky with the girls. As long as I continue to dance, they won’t know what’s going on.” Misha leaned into him, then rolled and arched her chest, undulating near his face. “What is going on here, Wyatt?”
