I nodded and stood stretching, nerves making my stomach flutter. “Let’s go with that.”
“Great. Follow me.” She led me through a door at the back into the backstage area, which held an array of props and a computer with the music program. “You just throw the name of your song into the search engine, put your stage name in and hit play, then run your ass out onto the stage. It’s on a thirty-second delay, and the lights come on when the music starts.”
“Seems easy enough.” I typed my song in and waited because a dancer was still out on stage. She was facing us, bent at the waist as she lowered her neon orange thong down her ebony legs and kicked them across the stage before sliding to the floor and gyrating.
I watched closely as she worked the crowd, and men tossed money onto the stage. When the song ended, she grabbed the money, letting her generous breasts sway as she bent, then scooped up her costume and strutted past us to the dressing room.
“Break a leg,” Poppy said with a wide smile, slapping me on the ass. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then hit the play button.
I could hear quiet conversations from some of the patrons over the house music as I took my opening position, one hand on the pole above me and my spine against the cold metal, my legs crossed casually.
Don’t fuck this up. It’s just a dance. Where you get naked. Just don’t fuck it up, Remi.
A convincing male AI voice drawled, “Now on the stage—Daisy!”
The stage lights nearly blinded me when they flashed on with the song's opening notes, but I’d practiced my simple routine every day for the last week. I could practically do it in my sleep. I shimmied my hips and circled the pole, letting sass bleed from every move. There was nothing especially complicated about my pole moves as I climbed and spun around. Besides, the men cheering from outside the spotlight weren’t there to judge me. They were there to lust after me.
The first twenty hit the stage just as I bent over, revealing the tattoo on my ass. Another round of cheers went up, and I smiled teasingly over my shoulder. I twirled and dragged my hands from my thighs up to my torso, pressing my breasts together until they nearly spilled out of my top. Slowly, I unfastened each hook on the front of my shirt as I exaggerated the hip sways and some footwork. Finally, my breasts fell free, and more bills fluttered across the stage as I returned to the pole and slid down, spreading my thighs so they could get a peek at my thong.
My body rolled as I stood, and there was a commotion as I reached down to unbutton my shorts. I turned, shaking my ass as I worked the next button free, but I froze when I looked over my shoulder, the coquettish grin dropping from my face.
There, barreling onto the stage, was the giant, black-clad Neretti enforcer, his eyes blazing with fury. He dropped his shoulder and hauled me into a fireman’s carry as I screeched with fear. My heart raced, the air knocked from my lungs by the force of his tackle. Cosimo’s thick, tattooed forearms clamped over my thighs, and my ass pressed against his stubbled jaw as he carried me backstage and through the door into the hall.
Fuck, he’d found out.
Panic threatened to overtake my senses, my flight response kicking in. I squirmed and kicked, but the man’s hold only tightened. “Stay. Still.”
I went limp, staring at the passing tiles and the especially firm ass of the man who was probably about to take me out back and shoot me. My mind whirled with how I could get myself out of this predicament.
Finally, Cosimo shoved another door open and dropped me to my feet. We must have been in the office because there was a black wood desk on one side and a small seating area on the other. I nearly toppled over, off-balance in my heeled boots, but his hands grasped my waist until I steadied myself and met his angry gaze.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing showing every man in my club your tits, goldilocks?” he growled low, crossing his arms as he demanded an answer.
My jaw dropped as I realized he didn’t know who I was, though he’d recognized me from the club. I decided to play innocent. “Dancing?”
“The fuck you are,” Cosimo hissed, eyes roaming down to my bare chest. I quickly covered my hard nipples with my palms, but he reached into a locker and pulled out a black t-shirt, shoving it into my chest. “Put that on. Now.”
I carefully covered my breasts first, then pulled the large shirt that smelled like him over my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “This is your club?”
“Yes,” he ground out.
“So you’re my boss?” I let a playful note bleed into my words and bit my lip.
“Not anymore,” he snapped. “You’re fired.”
He spun and stomped toward the door as his words registered. No, I couldn’t get fired my first night, not after all my planning. I had a job to do—a crime family to bring to their knees.
“Wait!” I rushed after him, grabbing his hard bicep as he reached the hall. “Please, stop!”
He did, and I ran smack into his body, rubbing my cheek from the impact. “You have two minutes.”
“You can’t fire me,” I blurted.
“I can, and I did.”
“I need this job,” I said, desperate not to blow the operation before it had even begun. I saw a flicker of doubt in his expression and pushed my luck. “Please. Don’t do this.”
Cosimo dragged a hand down his face and muffled a groan before pinning me with an indecipherable look. “Can you pour drinks?”