Page 1 of His to Unwrap
NOELLE
“Your secret admirer is back tonight.”
I pause in the act of re-applying my lipstick to meet my co-worker’s eye in the mirror. She’s smirking at me, as I knew she would be.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” I say, as nonchalantly as possible.
Brittney snorts out a laugh. “You’re such a liar, Noelle. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
She’s right. Of course she’s right. I’d clocked Roman Clarke the second he walked into the lounge at Club Wyld tonight. Just like I always do. It’s as if my body becomes aware of his presence before my mind can even catch up.
“He’s not my secret admirer,” I say, since it’s useless to try and play dumb at this point.
“He was watching you the entire shift.”
I finish with my lipstick and straighten, casting an appraising eye over my appearance. The rest of my makeup is holding up admirably. My hair is getting a little flat but that’s to be expected after an hour of dancing—and sweating.
The sweating had nothing to do with the hulking figure sitting alone in one of the booths watching me. It’s not like his intense gaze got me all hot and bothered. Not at all.
“Do you have any body adhesive?” I ask, poking at the sparkling Christmas tree tassels pasted onto my nipples. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose one of these.”
Brittney waggles her eyebrows at me. “Then you’dreallymake Mr. Grumpy’s day.”
I roll my eyes. “Like he hasn’t seen it all before,” I mutter.
The outfit I’m wearing for our performance tonight may show off a lot, but it’s not close to the most revealing thing I’ve ever had on in this place. In addition to my Christmas tree tassels, I’m also wearing red satin boy shorts and thigh high stockings. There’s a thick band of ribbon wrapped around my middle, tying together in a big-ass red bow just below my breasts. I’m like a dirty Christmas present come to life.
And it’s practically demure compared to some of my costumes.
“Here,” Britt says, swatting my hand away as she approaches with a roller of body adhesive. “Stop poking at it or it really will come off.”
I allow her to apply the adhesive and re-arrange the tassel. When I started this job, I would have been aghast at the thought of letting a co-worker touch me so intimately, but you get used to it after a while. There’s not much modesty here at Club Wyld.
Besides, Brittney is my best friend at the club. We bonded over long hours of rehearsals and a shared love of crappy reality dating shows.
Once she’s finished, she looks me over. “Perfect. You’re going to knock his socks off.”
“Britt,” I mutter, annoyed at her refusal to stop mentioning Roman. “He’s just another member here. You know that.”
She shakes her head. “Keep telling yourself that, babe. That man is obsessed. It’ssoobvious.”
I fiddle with the bow to avoid meeting her eyes. The truth is, I don’t want to think about the way Roman might feel about me. It makes it even more depressing when yet another night passes without him making a move.
Hedoeswatch me more than the other dancers. In fact, he stares at me like I’m something he’d like very much to devour. No matter where I am in the club, no matter what I’m doing, if he’s there, his eyes are on me.
But he’s made it very obvious, over many, many nights of this kind of observation, that he has no plans to actuallytouchme. And I don’t want to dwell on how much that hurts.
“It’s not like that,” I mumble. “He might like the way I look, but he’s not interested in anything more.”
“Hey.” Britt takes my hands and gives my arms a shake. “I don’t like that tone of voice, girlie. If he doesn’t make a move, that’s his loss. You’re a fucking catch.”
I manage a genuine smile. Every woman should have a hype-girl like Brittney. When I first started this job, there would have been no way I’d get through the first few nerve-wracking weeks if it wasn’t for her encouragement.
“Break’s almost over, girls,” Dave’s voice calls from the door to the dressing room. “Anyone need anything?”
“I could do with a massage if you’re offering,” Ilsa, one of the other dancers, calls back.
“I’ll book you in with one of the masseuses,” he replies drily, and Ilsa grumbles. Lots of the girls here are constantly trying to get into the gorgeous dance manager’s pants, but he insists he won’t ever mix business with pleasure.
