Eyes on her

Damian POV 

“What’s up with the new girl?” Rex asks when I sit down beside him in the circle. “Since when does Dante have you managing the dancers?”

“He doesn’t.” I focus on the stage, so I don’t have to look him in the eye. “I offered to do him a favor since he was busy.”

He studies me as I settle back into the seat and drain my glass. Dante asked me to do this in confidence, so I wouldn’t go telling it to all the other members about it, and I have no intentions of fucking that up. “She’s pretty,” Rex observes.

An bitter taste coats my mouth, tainting my reply with a sharpness I don’t recognize. “She looks like Dante pulled her half-dead arse out of a dumpster in Southie.”

Rex smirks and relaxes into his seat like he has all  night to sit around and watch the dancers. “Suit yourself then. I’m sure there are plenty of others who wouldn’t mind having a ride like her.”

My jaw hinges shut, and I have the irrational desire to loaf my guy in the head for saying so. As much as I’d like to believe I’m not attracted to the twig of a woman, I can’t deny that she would be pretty, once she got cleaned up a little. But just because my dick inflated every time she glared at me doesn’t mean shit. She isn’t my type or anyone in this establishment’s type for that matter. Already this assignment is messing with my head, and the less time she spends here the better.

I’m grateful for the silence when the DJ announces the first dancer of the night. Peccato  is known for having some of the most beautiful dancers in the city, but I can’t seem to focus on any of them. One by one, they get up on the stage and perform. They work the crowd and peel away their clothes until there is nothing left but tits and ass. It’s an art as old as time, but my dick has fallen asleep, and my irritation is only growing by the second. Rex is toying on his phone beside me, not paying attention to the show, and I want to know what the feck he’s even doing here. He never watches the dancers, and it seems like he’s intentionally trying to get on my  nerves tonight. I want to be alone when Liana comes out. If Rex catches me staring, he’ll get the idea that this is something other than what it really is.

By the time the DJ finally announces her, I’m wound up tighter than a coil. Rex, on the other hand, seems content to stuff his phone in his pocket and watch the show when the lights dim, my fists contract as the waifish silhouette moves toward center stage.

Her hips sway in a slow, sensual rhythm with every step she takes, arousing the reverence of the crowd. On top of her platform heels, she’s a delicate little doll. Her grace is softer than I expected, and a hushed quiet falls over the room as every pair of eyes become enchanted. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t too, and that’s a fucking problem.

My cock comes back to life with a craving so violent, I haven’t a clue what to make of it. I feel Rex eyes on me, but I can’t look away from her.

She’s rendered me useless under her spell, along with fifty other men in the room. I release a breath when the intro finally ends, and the spotlight comes on. The crowd rumbles with excitement, and for a split second, Liana halts, blinded and stunned. She’s cleaned up, just as I instructed, her blonde hairnfalling in silky waves to the delicate curve of her arse. She’s wearing abstrappy black outfit she pulled out of the free for all bin, and her eyes are covered in glitter. She’s done exactly what I asked and pulled herself together, so I can’t figure out why I’m so bloody out of sorts over it. Fecking Christ.

She’s a treat on a cold Milan evening and the crowd loves her. They shout out encouragement, and she starts dancing again. Her body is stiffer, the goddess behind the shadows a faint memory, at least until she closes herbeyes and gets lost in the feeling.

There’s a part of me I can’t rationalize with that doesn’t want her to be good at this. I want Dante to say that she’s finished. She can do anythingbelse except dance. It isn’t logical, and I can’t understand it. Especially when she’s everything I hate in a woman. She’s so gangly, it leaves little doubt in my mind she’s a user. I’ve been down that road before, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth even thinking about it. I can’t just sit here and watch her undress. I can’t watch her sell herself out for cash only to inject it in her arm.

I stand up and swipe my empty glass from the table, itching for another drink. If there’s one thing that’s certain, I don’t need to see what she looks like naked to get the job done. Dante asked me to keep an eye on her, and I will.

And when he asks me to dim the light from her eyes, I’ll hand her the fucking needle myself.