Page 108 of Insatiable

What’s wrong with me?

I get out of the car again, the rain drenching me as I stand staring at the studio building. The coldness helps whatever’s ripping me to shreds inside, but I still have the twisting feeling in my stomach.

I walk down the side of the building, checking the other doors and windows, sighing in relief when one opens. I slip in. It closes behind me, and I’m surrounded by darkness. TheLEDsare always on, so when I see a pink glow under one of the doors in the corridor, I head for it.

Stacey isn’t here. The place is empty and smells of pine – as it always does when she’s cleaned up after herself. Poles and hoops crowd me, crash mats piled on the right, a full wall of mirrors to the left.

I find the folder full of everyone’s details and scan for Stacey’s name.

Five minutes later and nothing. How many students do they have?

I open the file of employee details. Jackpot.

Stacey Rhodes. Teaching qualifications and training in pole fitness, pole dance, erotic dance, aerial hoop, disco dance, kids dance, contemporary dance, silks and fire dance.

Damn. My girl is talented.

I leave the studio as soon as I find her address.

Stacey lives on a fancy estate. Her house is big, with three floors, white bricks and security gates. All the lights are out except for one at the top right. The curtains are closed, but I can see the shadow of someone moving around.

I finish my smoke and flick it out the window, debating what to say. An apology obviously. An explanation. And, hopefully, she forgives me and tells me to come in.

I’ll kiss her and go back to sleep in her bed. Then we’ll be good.

So why are my hands shaking so badly?

I buzz the gate, wait a few minutes, and when no one grants me access, I climb the wall. I’m not giving a shit if I set off alarms. I need to see her.

Nothing happens though, so her family definitely needs to sack their security team.

I walk around the small fountain at the front steps and knock on the door. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure.

My heart races to an unbearable pace, and I shove my hands in my pockets to stop them from trembling when I hear the door unlocking.

A man with agreybeard pulls it open. “Can I help you?”

Rain drips down my face. “Is Stacey here?”

“Who are you?” he asks, wary. He looks as if I just broke into his house and asked to kidnap his daughter. “How did you get in?”

I shrug. “I climbed the wall. Is Stacey here?”

“You…” He chokes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Who the hell are you?”

Before I can glare and tell him to watch his fucking tone, a soft voice stops me.

“Dad, it’s okay.”

A small hand rests on his shoulder, and the door opens wider. My lungs fill when Stacey comes into view in herPJs.

“He’s a friend.”

I think the fuck not. Instead of showing any hint of how that one word burns me, I keep my hands in my pockets and wait for her dad to fuck off.

Stacey waits until he’s out of earshot then turns to me. “Why are—”

“I fell asleep,” I cut in, taking a careful step towards her. “I didn’t mean to. Are you alright? Did you have to walk? Did you get anUber?”

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