Page 16 of Baby for the Bratva King

I fantasized about us naked in his bed on a regular basis, but I never thought about us in the shower…

It was everything I had dreamt of, and more.

I circle around the pole, sending my ass back into the audience as I stand up. Time for round two.

I climb, throwing myself to the front of the pole. I activate my shoulder muscles as I hang from the pole, hooking a leg, coming into a ballerina spin.

The club blurs, lights swirling in all directions as I pick up speed. I need to forget, to get the fuck out of my head and move on from Felix. He’s the only man who has ever seen me naked.

That’s a huge fucking deal.

I experienced euphoria earlier, and I want to experience it again. But I’ll die before I beg, before I fall weak in the face of power.

I release my back leg, slowing down. I regain my vision, searching the crowd, head foggy from all the spinning.

I remain on the front of the pole, facing the crowd. I air-walk, dollar bills hitting my thigh, sailing to the floor.

I plant one heel on the podium, ready to stand as the song comes to a close, but I never see the song all the way to the end.

An impossible force drags me away from the stage before I can take a bow.

Gasps drown out the sound of the music, people rising from their seats, all looking my way.

A familiar scent enters my nose, and I know I’m even more fucked than before. Pepper. Caramel. Bleu de Chanel.

Photography lights flash. I clutch Felix’s shoulder blade, barely able to get my hand around the muscle. He’s too big. Too powerful. I’m a speck of dust compared to him, just another woman for him to use.

I remember this fact as he drags me away from the main room, flying through the backstage curtain.

He skims my bare ass, holding me in place as he marches through the dark corridors. Fuck knows what else is down here besides dressing rooms and private bedrooms. The air con buzzes, the old fan rattling through the empty corridor. Music fades away, the base thumping from someplace distant.

Felix releases me, shoulder muscles contracting under my palms as he lowers me to the ground.

My eight-inch pleasers scrape against the concrete. I look left and right, trying to work out where the fuck we are. He brought me to the backrooms of the club. Perfect place to murder someone, or have a serious conversation with them without the rest of the world listening in.

Felix eventually hooks his finger under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. I would rather look at my father. I know my place when it comes to him. My heart holds a lot of resentment. I look into his eyes, and I feel disgust. I never want to go back to being his daughter, to living under his roof.

But Felix? Anger transitions into desire when I look at him. I forget about his power, his unlimited wealth and self-centeredness. One look and I’m sold. Desire is stronger than anger. I can walk away, clean a different room, but that never stops my mind from wandering.

I don’t know my place with Felix.

And I don’t trust myself around him.

I salvage an escape, sliding along the wall, ready to run, but Felix yanks my wrist, sending me backward.

Running is out of the question as he cages me between himself and the wall, his hand at my temple.

“I suppose I’m extremely fired now,” I cringe, looking up at his face.

He looks pissed. Hard lines appear between his sculpted brows. This man is too good to be true, like a dream and a nightmare wrapped up into one shiny package. Shadows play on his face, his eyes still finding a way to glow.

“Who said anything about you being fired?”

“It’s inferred.” I slump into the wall, dropping my shoulders.

Felix glances down at my body, and suddenly I feel more naked than I did in the shower.

“You ran away,” Felix says, grinding his jaw.