Page 39 of The Billionaire's Secret
I unfurl my body, coil my legs around the pole, twirl—once, twice, thrice—flatten out my body parallel to the floor in a flat line…Stay… Stay…My biceps flex, my triceps stretch, all of my muscles coil, then I lower my legs until I’m parallel again, this time to the pole, lower my legs, until my toes touch the pole. Let go of the pole, to drop down to a crouch, then spring up, arch my back, my neck, snap out my head, search the window above. It’s empty.
What the hell—?
My stomach bottoms out. My arms and legs tremble.
The lyrics of my preferred song to dance to thump against my breast bone. So close, I had been so close. I could have sworn I’d caught his attention… I should have known better.
Just because he is interested in me—Oh, I’d caught the flicker of curiosity in his gaze from the moment he’d laid eyes on me—so what? He met many men and women, a billionaire like him who has the freakin’ world at his feet. What does he know about being helpless, at the mercy of those who could change your life in an instant?
If I don’t manage to intrigue him, I'll never be able to break Nina free of the Mafia's clutches.
Goddam him.I grab the pole with my arms, pull myself in, then scissor my legs wide apart, in a 'V' swirl, once, twice… It's thanks to Nina that I'd taken classes in pole dancing. She'd enjoyed it and had nagged me until I'd gone along with her. She thought it would help me gain confidence in myself, and help me come out of my shell. And truth is, I'd found it liberating.
On the pole I can let go of all of my inhibitions, forget I am a nerd who doesn't fit in anywhere. I can let the music get to me, allow the lyrics to twist my insides, slam against my temples, my chest, between my legs. I twirl around the pole, faster, faster—the world spins, lights flash behind my eyes. I loosen my grip, my body flies through the air, muscles loose, shoulders coiled, and I land on a roll. The audience gasps, I spring up to my knees, lower my head. Sweat drips down my temples, from my chin, splatters onto the floor.
The music rises to a crescendo, thenswitches off.
The cheering from the crowd smashes into me. I open my eyes, and notice the worn cowboy boots in my line of sight. The hair on the nape of my neck rises. I run my gaze up the tailor-made slacks that mold to powerful thighs and cup the bulge between the legs. I gulp. Snap my head back.
"Get up."
His lips move. I hear him above the hoots and whistles of the crowd.
I glide up to my feet, the audience cheers. "Victoria!"
"Victoria… Show your tits."
A snarl rolls up his chest. His biceps bulge. Anger strums off of him and my nerve endings spark. I’ve seen Saint laid back, bored, cruel intent writ in his every expression. But this…? Saint …. Livid, every muscle in his body taut, layer upon layer of muscle vibrating with surprised tension…? My thighs spasm and liquid heat curls in my belly.
"Victoria, take it all off…" Another scream from the audience rips between us.
He growls, takes a step forward, "Do it."
I blink.
"Take off your clothes."
"H…here?"
"Isn’t that why you’re here? To show off your assets? To cash in what you have for money? He shoves his hand into his pocket, pulls out his wallet. He holds up a credit card. The light flashes off of it, blinding me for a second. "This is what you want, right?"
I swallow, then tip up my chin. "Of course." A cold sensation stabs at my chest. My fingers and toes turn to ice. I fold all of my emotions into that tiny space deep inside. Raising one shoulder, I shrug off my scanty sparkly top, then shrug down the other side.
The fabric catches on my hard nipples, stays poised a second. One more breath and it will fall. Another hoot from the audience, "You’re blocking the view, you asshole."
I wince.
Saint holds up a hand and the audience quietens.
He moves in closer, closer, until his chest brushes my half naked torso. Goosebumps flare on my skin. He swoops out his arm. I wince. He digs his fingers into my hair, tugs. I arch my head, bare the column of my neck for his perusal.
A bead of sweat runs down my temple. He drops his head and licks it up. I shudder. All of my pores pop.
"That was a terrible song to strip to, by the way."
I blink. Of all the insignificant things to say… "Not a Beatles fan, huh?"
"Hate them."
