Page 71 of That Girl is Trouble

“No,” I hedge, my limbs tingling, readying for a quick escape. “It’s okay. I should have asked sooner. There’s a form—”

“Where’s my ring?” He steps closer.

I chance a step back, but he only grins at my apprehension.

Right. The ring. I almost forgot about that. “I was rude yesterday,” I start, faking an apologetic smile.

I look at Rayna again. She’s still watching, arms crossed as she leans against the doorway to her office. That mean don’t fuck with me look she usually wears has been replaced with… what is that? Concern? Worry? Shit.

I clear my throat. “I shouldn’t have taken it. I’ll go get it for you.”

“There’s no need. You won it, and I’m a man of my word.” He looks me up and down again, and I fight the urge to shudder. “But like I said, I’ll be getting it back. In the meantime”—he releases me and dangles a gold chain between us for a moment before he clutches my hand and places it in my palm—“you’ll wear it around your neck.”

My feet move back before my body can tell them to, but he’s suddenly got my wrist tight in his grip.

“Mr. Rossi—”

“I want to see it on you the next time you’re working. Right here.” He drags his finger across my collarbone, making every one of my muscles lock up. “And don’t worry about Saturday. Consider your time off granted.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s the catch?”

He chuckles. “Smart girl. Another lesson for you. Never take something without asking what you have to give in return. Nothing is free. So what do I want from you?”

Getting his meaning, I rip my wrist from his grip, a spark of anger flooding through my veins. “What’s between my legs isn’t for sale,” I hiss. “If you think for a second—”

“Nothing like that,” he says, a hint of a smile creeping up his face. “I host a poker game in my home a few times a year for some business associates. I like hiring… entertainment. In exchange for your day off, you will be that entertainment.”

I scoff. “Absolutely not.”

“Relax, Katherine. There’ll be security. And I pay well. Only a handful of girls get this chance. I should be asking you for a favour just for giving you the opportunity to work the event.”

Event. Security. Other girls. I roll his proposal over in my mind. Calling it an event sounds… less creepy, I guess. More official. Legit. “What would I have to do, exactly?”

“Same thing you do here. Wrap yourself around a pole a couple times, sit on some laps, play nice.” He pauses. “You know how to do that, don’t you? Play nice?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

“Then do we have a deal?”

It wouldn’t be all that different from what I do now, would it? Like a typical shift at the Garden. Girls strutting about in their bras and panties, drooling men who can look but can’t touch, because if they do, they’ll get roughed up and thrown out by a guy like Seb. Someone who can pull a pair of hands off me when some asshole gets brave and reaches for something he shouldn’t.

Twirl around a pole. Smile. Work the room. Play the part.

In exchange, my Saturday night frees up, and I can keep my secret a little longer. Just until I figure out how to tell Triss, how to explain.

I think I can handle that.

“Yeah, okay.” My heart beats hard against my chest the moment the words leave my lips, and not in the good way. It’s like the time I found my mom, or when I watched Jesse die. Like the night a man broke into my room at the clubhouse and tried to take what didn’t belong to him. But I press that feeling down and cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. Yes.”

Mr. Rossi’s smile splits his face, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Shake on it.” He extends his hand between us.

When I take it, sealing our deal, he gives my fingers a tight squeeze.

“Excellent. I’ll get your number and have my assistant text you the details.” He releases me and steps back, but he pauses and regards me once more. “And my ring, Katherine. Next time I see you, it’s around your neck.”

I’m frozen in the doorway as he stalks off, my stomach thrashing in warning. It takes what feels like a full minute for feeling to return to my feet. But by the time I make my way through the dressing room and to my cubby, I’ve convinced myself that I’m overreacting. I deal with men like Vic Rossi all the time. Arrogant, aggressive. An incessant need for control and power. I know how to handle them, how to play into their needs. And for the most part, men like him are pretty harmless.

“Suppose I’ve been put in my place.” Rayna’s voice rings out behind me, laced with irritation. “Enjoy your night off.”

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