Private Dancer. Kimberly Dean

      She caught her ledger before it tumbled onto the floor. This wasn’t working. Instead of getting him to back down, she’d got him charged up.

      There was a spring in his step as he pulled her towards the door. ‘We will win this fight, you and I together. In a few weeks’ time, the Satin Club will be no more.’

      ***

      The Satin Club was hopping by the time Alicia made it there that night. She could see the cars in the parking lot and hear the muted beat of music. She was nervous and uptight as she parked her car at the diner next door. They’d instructed her to park behind the club, but she couldn’t be caught there. She didn’t want anyone to know where she was. How could she ever explain?

      For a long moment, she sat in her car just staring at the building. The desire to run was so strong. They had to have seen her on the picket line with their security cameras and spies. Would Bas be angry with her? She hadn’t got her father to budge, although there’d been no microphone or speakers today. She hadn’t lived up to her end of the bargain on that, but she was here.

      She was going to dance.

      Her stomach clenched. Just dance. Without any clothes, perhaps, but she was not getting back into that cage. There would be no extra-curricular activity tonight, even though her nipples were pinching and her hips were loosening. She was here to entertain … visually, with no touching allowed.

      She blew out a breath. ‘A month of this?’

      There was no way her nerves could take it.

      Before she could chicken out, she got out of the car. She could feel the eyes upon her as she made her way to the club’s back entrance. She keyed in the code she’d been given, but hesitated when she opened the door. On the other side of those red satin curtains, the place wasn’t so lush. The hallway was dark and intimidating. It was industrial with hard floors and metal shelves. The music had a melody now, but it sounded hollow. She wrapped her arms around her waist. Really, it was like the backstage of any other theatre where she’d performed, but she wasn’t comfortable here.

      She stayed near the exit as she contemplated what to do next. She couldn’t just walk out into the performance area. How could she show her face? The last time she’d been here, she’d exposed herself, physically and emotionally. Footsteps suddenly echoed over the beat of the music, and she stiffened.

      ‘Alicia, welcome.’

      She struggled not to blush when Bas turned the corner. He was dressed in black, the panther in all his sleek glory. He tucked a hand in his pocket as his gaze skimmed over her. If he was gloating, she couldn’t tell. His green gaze was indecipherable in the dim lighting.

      He frowned as he looked up at the burned-out fixture on the ceiling. ‘Sorry it’s dark back here. I’ll get someone to work on that.’

      He held out his hand. ‘Come.’

      She had no option but to take his hand again, a willing sacrifice. He led her down the hallway to the changing room she’d used before, and it brought up mixed emotions. She was used to getting ready for performances in places such as this. Bright bulbs of lights surrounded big mirrors. Make-up was strewn about the tabletops, and lockers lined the far wall. There were the familiar tools of the trade: legwarmers, liniment and wrapping tape. It was the dance world she was accustomed to.

      But, oh so very different.

      She chose a spot, set down her bag and clutched her hands together. They were shaking. ‘I’m sorry about the protesters today. I know I promised, but –’

      He cupped her shoulder. ‘It’s all right. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stop it in a day.’

      His touch was warm and firm, but not angry. He trailed his fingers down her bare arm. She’d worn a sleeveless top to try to stay cool. The heat had been beating down on her all day, but somehow she knew she’d be shivering once she hit the stage. There was already a chunk of ice in the pit of her stomach.

      ‘Sit,’ he said. ‘I want to go over the rules with you.’

      Rules? Really? She’d thought this place was about breaking them.

      She was too antsy to sit, so she leaned her hips against the make-up table and wrapped her fingers around its edge.

      Bas’s expression was stoic as he watched her. He was so different from Remy. With Remy, she knew exactly where she stood and what he wanted, shocking as it may be. Bas was more calculating, and it put her off-balance. What did he expect out of her this month? Was he trying to prove her wrong? To show her that the club wasn’t depraved and sinful?

      Because she’d got a taste of the darker side in that cage. Although she’d been a willing subject …

      ‘You look like you’re about to face a firing squad,’ he commented. ‘Relax.’

      ‘I don’t think I can,’ she said honestly.

      He frowned. ‘I want you to enjoy yourself here, Leesha. This isn’t a punishment. It might not seem like it now, but this place could be your sanctuary.’

      Sanctuary. Her stomach turned. ‘I already have one of those.’

      He bowed his head apologetically. ‘Poor choice of words. I just want you to know you can do anything you want here. You can explore things you’re curious about, delve into things you like. You can try new styles of dance and expression. Nobody’s going to judge you or hurt you. You’re safe here.’

      She nodded slowly, not quite trusting him. ‘What if I don’t want to take off my clothes?’

      The lines around his eyes deepened, and she stilled. It was the one sign she knew that signalled his displeasure.

      ‘That’s the one thing I won’t allow,’ he said. ‘You will not hold back on me or this bet. The gentlemen who visit this club pay for certain privileges. Seeing your beautiful body is one of those. Besides, this experiment is supposed to push you outside of your boundaries, to get you to experience the pleasure that you’ve denied yourself.’

      Pleasure, again. She couldn’t hold his gaze.

      ‘Clearly, that’s something you need to do.’

      There it was: the reference to her time in the cage. She’d been waiting for it, but her reaction wasn’t quite what she expected. She’d expected shame, but instead she felt confusion. He’d watched her lose control, but he was encouraging her to do it again. Demanding it. The idea was so bizarre. Her whole life had been about control and denial.

      She bit her lip as that place between her legs pulsed, and she crossed her thighs to try to ease the sensation. ‘But you said that one of your most popular dancers never strips.’

      He grinned like a hungry crocodile. ‘That’s because she’s sixteen. Once she hits eighteen, I won’t be able to hold the little minx back.’

      ‘Sixteen?’ Alicia gasped.

      This place was unseemly. Even as she cringed, she felt a spark inside her. Maybe that was why she’d been sent here – to help change the club’s ways from the inside. The Lord did work in mysterious ways.

      Bas shrugged. ‘She’s like you, the girl loves to dance.’

      ‘But –’

      ‘But unlike you, dance is all she’s allowed to explore here. This is your time, sweet Leesha. Nothing’s holding you back here. I want to see how far you can go.’

      ‘With dancing,’ she stressed.

      ‘Sure, with dancing.’ His gaze dropped to her breasts and then the way her legs were rubbing together.

      Alicia felt a prickle at the back of her neck. He was so careful in his wording. He’d said he wanted her to feel safe here. Somehow that was one thing she didn’t think she’d ever feel inside the walls of this club. Safe from him? Maybe. He was so controlled, so in charge.

      But