Page 14 of Corrupted Union

“You’ve mistaken concentration for entertainment. I’m working,” he said dryly. “Madison here is auditioning, so if you don’t mind…” He reached for the bottle of water on the table and returned his gaze to the stage. Had I irritated him? I had a feeling he’d gone from amused to insulted, and I needed to fix things quickly.

“I just need a minute to talk with you, Keir. Please, just one minute.”

Hell if my entire body didn’t warm every time his eyes touched me.

“I told you, I’m auditioning right now, so unless you want to dance,leave,” he ordered in an arctic tone wrought with challenge. If he thought throwing down the gauntlet would send me running, he was mistaken.

I walked right up to him, flung my purse at his chest, and slipped off my shoes, not allowing my stare to waiver for a second. Rowan Alexander didn’t cower for anyone. No matter the outcome, what I was about to do would be worth the spark of fascinated surprise that flashed behind those tropical eyes of his. He never moved or spoke, but I could see it there in the Caribbean depths. I had his attention.

“I dance, then you listen. Agreed?”

He stared at me for ten solid seconds before his chin dipped.

Seizing my moment, I stepped on stage. The current occupant looked from me to Keir, then reluctantly backed away.

Don’t worry, honey, I’m not after your job.

I tried to clear my head and allow the music to filter into my body. I wasn’t familiar with the song, but it had a sultry beat and grinding bass making movement come easily. What Keir hadn’t known was that I was at home on the stage probably more than anywhere else. Dance was my therapy. My one true love.

I no longer took lessons, but I tried to find time to dance most days. I did it for myself. Performing for others wasn’t my favorite, so I tuned out the flashing television screens and other dancers. I ignored the covetous stares of the men around me and let the music take hold.

The jeans I’d worn had enough stretch to allow movement—not ideal, but sufficient. And my short sweater with a scooped neckline was perfect to add a tease of skin. I wasn’t about to get naked, but I wanted to make sure Keir knew I wasn’t embarrassed to be seen, and more importantly, that his attempt at intimidation had failed.

I began to sway and arch and roll my body in perfect harmony with the music. Up on that stage with the seductive pull of an electric guitar filling the air, it was easy to summon my sexiest moves. I simply imagined that Keir was the only other person in the room. That I was dancing for him alone—to tease him to the brink of madness.

My hands trailed over my body as I moved, as though I was deep in a session of pleasuring myself, delighting in the feel of my own touch. I bit my bottom lip like I might if I was straining to keep myself quiet, and I moved seamlessly from one inviting position to the next, a symphony of carnal seduction.

When I finally permitted myself to peek at my adversary, my veins flooded with elation. Keir’s entire body had gone rigid with tension, an enormous bulge tenting his pants.

I’d gotten to him. The unflappable Keir Byrne was on edge. I’d pushed him to the limits of his perfectly honed control, and I wanted more.

I wanted to see him snap.

Already on my knees, I arched my back until the top of my head gently met the floor. I pressed my chest upward, allowing my sweater to fully expose my bra, and brought my hands to my breasts, then slowly trailed down my front toward the apex of my thighs.

Two other men edged closer to the stage on the opposite side where Keir was sitting. I could feel their eyes on me, but they were inconsequential compared to the blazing touch of Keir’s stare. He branded me with those ocean eyes of his.

“Enough.” The savage growl ripped through the air, halting my movements.

Keir was on his feet. I lifted upright, though still on my knees, and watched him grab my purse and charge toward me. My eyes rounded as he grabbed my wrist and hauled me from the stage toward a dark hallway.

“What is it you want from me, Miss Alexander?” he bit out.

“Rowan,” I shot back. “My name is Rowan.” I wasn’t sure why I cared what he called me, but I did. I wanted to hear the guttural purr of my name on his lips.

“I know your name,” he said dismissively. “Tell me why the fuck you’re here.”

Stubborn asshole. Fine. I’d get to the point. “I have a job for you.”

The tension surrounding him slowly melted as a devious smile teased at his lips. “This gets more interesting by the minute. Go on.”

“I want someone investigated without the information going public.”

“Seems like something your father should be capable of doing.”

My spine stiffened. “I brought up the matter with him. He declined.”

“And I was the next person who came to mind?” he asked condescendingly.

---