Page 20 of Ravaged and Ruined
Garett’s eyes narrow to slits and his smile tightens as I stand there without moving. His glowering stare pulls at my nerves. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t sip his drink.
“Dance.” Marco grumbles and steps back until he blends with the shadows behind the platform.
I start to move, my hips syncing with the beat, letting the rhythm carry me into the role I’ve played a thousand times before. The costume clings to my body like it was custom made for me, which is still unsettling. My gloves shimmer when I lift my arms, and the slit in the skirt rides high with every sway of my legs.
The men in the booths take notice. Heads turn. Smiles curl. One tosses a chip toward the edge of my platform, then another, and another until it’s raining money at feet. But that’s not what rattles me.
It’s the burn of a gaze from across the room that brands my skin. Hot. Possessive. Unforgiving. It wraps around me, drags a shiver down my spine, and settles low in my belly like a warning.
I twist on the platform, my heart thudding against my chest and lock eyes on Aero. He’s standing just inside the entrance, partially hidden by shadows, but I see it all. The clench of his jaw, the fire in his eyes, and the way his hand curls into a fist at his side. He looks like he’s fighting a war behind his eyes. And losing.
That look guts me. Because I want it. I crave it. I want his eyes on me like this forever, even if it tears us both apart.
I let my hand trail down my thigh, slow and deliberate, the hem of the skirt riding higher as I tease the movement out.
It’s not for the high-rollers.
It’s not for Garett.
It’s for Aero.
He’s watching me like he owns me. Like anyone else looking is a crime he’s already planning to punish. My breath catches in my throat. My thighs clench. I hate the way he makes me feel, like I’m burning alive and begging for more.
I turn away, pretending I don’t see him, pretending I don’t feel my heart slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. But his gaze sticks to me like heat, dragging over every inch of skin like a brand.
And God help me… I love it.
My body moves on instinct now, slow and sinuous, a deliberate tease. I run my hands up my thighs, trace the line of my waist, tilt my head and let my eyes flirt with the room but really, they’re flirting with him.
Because even if he won’t claim me, even though he keeps his walls locked up so tight they scrape my skin when I get too close, I can still get under his skin. Maybe this is the only way I get to have his attention. Maybe this is the only way I get to feel him feel something for me.
I catch Garett watching too, his gaze tracking mine straight to where Aero stands. He adjusts his tie, subtle but calculated, then signals to a man who looks a hell of a lot like Marco. A moment later, Garett slips into the shadows behind him, disappearing into the dark like he was never there.
And just like that, the feeling slams into me.
I’ve stepped into a trap.
One I won’t be able to dance my way out of.
Chapter Nine
Aero
The scent of cigar smoke, expensive whiskey, and desperation hangs heavy in the air as I step into the VIP lounge at Il Ritorno. It’s every bit the den of high-roller sin I expected, velvet-draped booths, low lighting, and girls spinning slowly on raised stages, their bodies catching the light like lures cast into the mouths of sharks. My jaw clenches when I spot Lacey on one.
She’s not just dancing. She’s baiting the whole damn room. Feeding the high rollers who drool like she’s a prize to be bought, not a woman with a fire in her chest and scars on her soul. And I hate that it turns me on. I hate that my heart’s in my throat, and my cock’s already straining in my jeans.
She moves like a damn fever dream, all satin curves and sinful legs in a slit-up-to-there red number. Her long blonde hair spills down her back in messy curls, and when she twists at the waist, I catch the glint of sweat at the base of her neck. I swallow hard, unable to contain the mix of emotions that burn through me. The heat, the rage simmering low in my gut, twisting withevery slow curve of her hips. I’m hard, angry, and seconds away from tearing this place apart.
My fists clench so tight my knuckles crack. I pushed her straight into the lion’s den when I didn’t tell her she was mine.
Dammit, Lacey.
Then she sees me. Her eyes lock on mine, and the air between us snaps like a live wire. Her body falters for a half-beat before she covers it with a sultry sweep of her hand over her hip, dragging her palm down her thigh.My thigh.
If I’ve learned anything about this woman, it’s that she’s her own person, and defiantly stubborn to the fucking core. So, here I stand just inside the entrance to the VIP lounge, the velvet curtain at my back doing nothing to hold me upright. I watch her work that damn stage like sin incarnate and dammit does my cock twitch in response. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s beautiful as hell in that dress that hugs every inch of skin, her arms gloved up to the elbow, fingers skimming the split of that damn skirt. I swear to God if I have to stand here one minute longer and watch one more prick toss chips at her feet, I’m going to lose my shit. I just haven’t decided if I want to kill every man in this room before or after I fuck her.
I grimace as she turns and I lose eye contact with her. I take a step forward, already ready to storm the room, but a hand clamps down on my shoulder. “Boss wants to see you.”
