Dance For Me (Strip in the City, Book 2)

14 • Hot Fight

"First office on the left, Tanushree," I said, releasing her hand and gesturing down the hall.

I flexed my fingers, trying to watch the subtle way she swung her hips as she walked. The goddamn dress she had on was hand painted and begging to be peeled off. She strolled into the office, and I followed behind her. Blowing out a breath and asking for guidance from a higher power.

"Tyler seems like a really sweet kid," Tan said as I closed the door and forced myself to look at her. Staring into her big doe eyes.

Lost. I was so lost.

I didn't have the right words to say. Small talk seemed inappropriate. I was sweating and barely able to control my breathing. I didn't know what to think about her being here. I was caught between being angry she came looking for Romeo at the Hope Foundation and wanting to kiss her until I forgot my name.

She was making me feel things I didn't want to feel.

"Why are you here?" I gritted out because I didn't know what else to say. These feelings were too confusing. "Other than to torture me?"

Tan let out a little laugh, like I was making some joke. "Torture you? You and I must have very different definitions of torture."

Obviously. I was in hell right now, while she was smiling like everything was fine. Like this little meeting wasn't killing her the way it was killing me. To want her the way I did but knowing deep down that I wasn't worthy of her world.

I might not be good with feelings, but I knew I wasn't the kind of guy that could handle casual relationships. Here today, gone tomorrow girls weren't my thing. If she only came to toy with me, then she needed to leave.

A one-night stand we both agreed to was safe. This, whatever she was doing right now, wasn't.

"That doesn't change the fact that you are torturing me right now."

She set one hand on her hip. "How am I torturing you?"

Everything inside me silently exploded, and the anger I felt for being toyed with took control. "By showing up, looking like that–and telling my sixty-year-old receptionist that you're here for Romeo, the stripper, in front of a kid who's been battling cancer for nine months. That, to me, is torture."

The smile she was wearing slipped, and I watched her defenses rise. "What do you mean, looking like that? Are you trying to say I look inappropriate?"

"You know what I mean," I said between clenched teeth.

A beat of silence passed, and I swore the room shrank three feet. I blinked, and Tan was closer. Her face softened. "Listen, I'm sorry about the whole getting your name wrong thing. But, to be fair, you never told me your real name. You said everyone called you Romeo, and that's what you preferred to be called."

I pressed my lips together and drew in a long breath. Why wasn't this obvious to her? Why did I need to explain the obvious?

I didn't tell you my name is Dominick DuBois because I prefer to keep my business life separate from Blanche's. Everyone at the club calls me Romeo, and everyone here calls me Dominick. They are two different people whose lives never cross."

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face, and I wiped it away.

Tan took a step closer to me, crowding into my space. She was close enough to touch, and god damn, I wanted to touch her so bad. To tell her I didn't want to argue with her. But our one night together was over, and I couldn't allow myself to pretend like it could stretch on.

"Your coworkers don't know about your grandmother's club?" Tanushree asked. Concern stitching her brows together. "I mean, Betty would fit right in with Blanche's Brawds."