Her Private Client

Before Miguel's fingers could touch her face, Inés ducked away. She made it look like part of the dance, moving with the music. Her heart was racing but she kept her body loose and smooth. Professional. That's what she had to be right now.

Miguel stood there with that annoying grin on his face. The same one he wore at home when he got his way. The same one that made her want to slap him.

Does he know it's me?

She couldn't tell. His eyes were dark and hungry, but there was something else there too. Something that made her stomach twist.

Before she could think about it more, Uncle Clifford appeared beside Miguel. His six-inch silver heels clicked sharply against the floor. Tonight he wore a blonde wig that swept past his shoulders, his nails were long and painted hot pink, and his dress was tighter than anything Inés had on.

"Ah-ah-ah, honey." Uncle Clifford wagged one of those pink nails in Miguel's face. His voice was high and dramatic, carrying over the music. "No touching the merchandise on stage. House rules, baby." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "I saw you trying to get handsy with my star here. That kind of fun only comes with VIP benefits."

VIP.

The word hit Inés like a punch to the gut.

She was done for the night. Her set was over. She'd already made enough to cover this week's payment to the gang. She could go home, shower off the shame, and pretend this never happened.

But if Uncle Clifford convinced Miguel to buy a VIP session…

That meant forty-five minutes alone. In a private room, with her stepbrother.

Miguel looked Uncle Clifford up and down, then smiled slowly. "VIP sounds perfect." He didn't even hesitate. "Just the way I like it. Enough privacy."

No. No. No.

Uncle Clifford clapped his hands together, his bracelets jangling. "Oh, I love a man who knows what he wants!"

He turned to Inés and winked, his fake lashes so long they almost touched his drawn-on eyebrows. "VIP is an excellent choice, sugar. Everything goes in the VIP room." He leaned closer to Miguel, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "But the mask stays on. Our girls like to stay anonymous, and Mama Clifford respects their privacy. That's why P-Valley is the classiest establishment in this whole damn city."

Miguel laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. "Privacy? So I'm allowed to see everything except the face?" He tilted his head, studying Inés like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve. "The face must be really special."

Inés's throat went dry.

"Uncle Clifford." She kept her voice steady even though panic was clawing up her chest. "My set is over. You can give him one of the other girls. Candy's free, so is Lucy."

Uncle Clifford put a hand on his hip and gave her a look. "Baby girl, don't be shy now."

"I don't want another girl." Miguel's voice was cold and final. His eyes never left her. "I want her."

The way he said it made her skin crawl. Like she was something he'd already bought and paid for.

Uncle Clifford's whole face lit up. "Well, there you have it!" He grabbed Inés by the wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for someone in six-inch heels. "Let's make our client happy, Red. Happy clients mean fat tips, and fat tips mean Mama can finally get those new chandeliers for the main stage."

He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, his breath smelling like mint and vodka. "Plus, honey, look at him. Fine as hell and rich? Gurl, work your magic."

If only Uncle Clifford knew who Miguel really was. If only he knew she lived with this man. Ate breakfast across from him. Listened to her mother talk about what a good son he was.

"Diamond will be nearby for security," Uncle Clifford added, stepping back and adjusting his wig. "Just in case Mr. Handsome here gets any ideas."

"Security?" Miguel raised an eyebrow and smirked. "There's no need for that. I'm not going to hurt Miss Hot and Sexy here."

The mocking tone in his voice made Inés clench her fists. At home, he barely spoke to her. Now he couldn't shut up.

Uncle Clifford threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud and rehearsed. "Oh, I like you! You got that confidence. That swagger." He snapped his fingers twice. "But house rules are house rules, baby. Diamond stays on alert. That's how P-Valley stays in business."

He turned on his heel, his dress swishing around his thighs. "Now y'all go have the time of your lives! And don't forget to tip your girl!"

His heels clicked away down the hallway, getting quieter until the music swallowed the sound.

And just like that, she was alone with Miguel.

Well, not alone. The club was still packed with men drinking and watching the other dancers. But it felt alone, it felt like the walls were closing in.

Inés took a long, deep breath. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and cheap cologne and spilled beer. She said a silent prayer even though she hadn't prayed in years.

Please don't let him recognize me. Please.

"What are we waiting for?" Miguel's voice snapped her back to reality. "I'm not a patient man. I don't like being kept waiting."

She forced herself to turn and face him. Up close, he looked even more dangerous. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were rolled up. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were sharp. 

"This way, sir." Her voice came out steadier than she felt.

She walked past him toward the back hallway where the VIP rooms were. Her heels clicked on the floor. She could feel his eyes on her. On her hips. On her ass. On every part of her that was on display.

The men at the tables whistled and cheered as she passed.

"Lucky bastard!"

"Enjoy yourself, brother!"

"She's a good one!"

Inés kept walking. The hallway was darker and quieter than the main floor. The music was low back here. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The VIP rooms were at the end of the hall. Small private spaces with couches and low lighting and locked doors. She'd been in them before with other clients. It was always uncomfortable, always a little scary, but she'd learned how to handle it. How to keep control. How to make them think they were getting everything while giving them nothing that mattered.

But this was different.

This was Miguel.

Her hand shook as she reached for the door handle of VIP Room Three. She pushed it open and stepped inside.

Red lights glowed from the corners. A black leather couch sat against the wall. A small table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Music played softly through hidden speakers.

Miguel stepped in behind her. And the door clicked shut. He was so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. He smelled like whiskey and expensive cologne and danger.

He reached up slowly.

His fingers touched the edge of her mask.

Inés held her breath. Every muscle in her body tensed.

"You know what I like about masks?" Miguel whispered. His thumb traced along the edge, dangerously close to her skin. "The mystery. The idea that I could be dancing with anyone. A stranger. A neighbor. Someone I already know."

His eyes searched hers through the mask.

"Makes it more exciting, don't you think?"

Inés couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

Then Miguel smiled and dropped his hand. He stepped back and sat down on the couch, spreading his arms along the back like he owned the place.

"Well?" He raised an eyebrow. "I paid for a show. Let's see what you've got, Red.”