I would have let him save ...The speed of it all terrified .
My feelings terrified .
No, Felicity, I told myself. No one’s coming to save you. This is your life now.
So I stood there, huddled in the corner of the locker room that slled of bodies, sweat, and tacky perfu, while girls funneled in and out of the club, until finally Dante returned for , sweating like he’d just been...up to sothing.
He snapped his fingers and motioned to .
“You. Let’s go.”
I followed behind him like an obedient puppy down the hall that led to the main room of the club. The pounding bass grew louder as we walked. I knew it was just music, but to it was the sound of a terrible monster ready to swallow whole.
"So, good news," he told . "You won’t be going up on the main stage tonight."
"No?" I asked. Sohow I doubted that Dante’s definition of "good news" was the sa as mine.
"No. I’ve got a very special VIP for you to entertain," he replied, rubbing his hands together with excitent.
“VIP?”
“RomanReigns,” he replied. “Ever heard of him?"
My legs froze and I stopped dead in the middle of the hall. Dante turned and grinned at .
"I guess you have."
Of course I had. Anyone living in the Greater Boston area had heard of RomanReigns, the notorious cri boss who was on the verge of being the kingpin of the entire city.
“Brock...?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"Damn right," Dante replied.
"His boys told he wanted a ‘fresh one,’ and that ans you. So get your ass moving, put a smile on that face, and dance your ass off for him."
He kept moving and I followed after him, forcing my legs to move.
“Dante!" I hissed as we approached the door to the main room. "I don’t know how to dance!"
"Ah, bullshit," he scoffed.
"How many years did you do ballet for?"
“That is not the sa thing, Dante! Ballet is an art form — ”
"Watch your tone!" he snapped.
“I don’t know how to...twerk or whatever the hell girls do — ”
"Look, bitch," he snarled, spinning around with his finger in my face. "You get in there, put an innocent look on his face, say ’yes, sir’ and ’no, sir,’ move your hips, play with your tits, and grind that ass in his lap and make him happy. Understand?"
“I — ”
“You fuck this up for , and we’re gonna have so serious problems! Understand?"
As if we already didn’t... I did my best to swallow my fear and nodded.
"Good. Now co with ."
Dante opened the door and we stepped into the club.
Colored lights flashed everywhere. Rap music blared as a girl twisted around the pole as a horde of n cheered and threw bills at her. She was clearly a veteran.
More n stood at the bar watching from behind their glasses as two other girls danced on smaller stages and others in skimpy outfits worked the crowd and tried to get their attention.
Dante reached back, took roughly by the wrist and led past a group of tables to a set of stairs leading up to what I assud was the VIP section. A big bouncer wearing a tacky purple suit nodded and let us through.
“Rember," Dante hissed as we took the steps and reached another door with mirrored glass.
"Do not fuck this up."
I nodded and Dante opened the door.
And then everything turned upside down.
A group of n, clearly gangsters, stood around the VIP room with bottles of champagne in their hands, and at the center of them, sitting like a king on a crimson throne...was the man who’d kissed last night.
"Rhis."
Dante led straight over to him, and with a huge smile on his face, introduced .
“Brock, this is Gina. Gina, this is RomanReigns."
Ho-lee shit.
—
Roman
My hands tightened around the armrests of the ridiculous throne Dante had brought out to impress as a red hot ball of anger ford in my chest.
What is she doing here!?
It was her, my angel, the light in my darkness and now she was standing in front of in a fucking strip club looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever been.
“Gina!?” I roared as I got to my feet. "That’s not her fucking na!"
Dante stepped back like the little bitch he was and looked at like he thought I was going to kill him. And he wasn’t too far of.
Places like this made sick, but we’d had a big victory over Tony Colombo’s mafia outfit trying to move into South Boston, and the boys had insisted on doing sothing “special" for to celebrate.
So Stringer had arranged for a VIP party for . Not wanting to disappoint my most loyal soldier, my number two, I’d agreed to go along. But really this was for the boys, not .
I didn’t find anything sexy about paying a girl to pretend to like .
The boys don’t care, but they also aren’t the boss, and a boss can’t be seen projecting any weakness. And paying a girl for her ti is a weakness as far as I’m concerned.
But I ca along tonight anyway to give the boys so well-deserved ti off. We’d lost two n in the dispute with Tony’s assholes, and they needed to cut loose. I figured I’d just bite my tongue, go along with the festivities, let them have their fun and head ho.
But then the impossible had happened.
She appeared.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this...
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