Stripped Page 11

  Yeah, I need to leave, but Peter doesn't let me. I can't be an ass to him, not after this. "Pete, I'm not in the mood."

  "Neither am I, but someone went and filled my party with strippers." He smirks. "Sit."

  I slip into the chair and lean back, arms folded tightly over my chest, and my head tilted to the side like I don't give a rat's ass. "Yeah, you should have seen what I had planned. It was awesome." My face lights up as I grin, which makes Peter roll his eyes.

  "So, that scar on her neck—" Of course. He wants to know about Cassie.

  "Was from the shrapnel." I try not to look at her, but I can't. Cassie's arms are over her head and watching her body move and sway in the light is hypnotic. I never had her. She never even kissed me, and she's stripping. It doesn't make any sense.

  "Ah, so you guys match, then?" I glance up at him, not understanding his meaning. "You have matching scars. The debris hit your back. You're scar buddies?"

  "She's nothing to me." My voice comes out so listless that even I don't believe me.

  Peter turns his face toward the stage, watching Cassie untie the corset. Her arms are behind her back, tugging on the red strings. There's a wicked smile on her lips. My heart is pounding so fucking hard. I don't want these guys to see her. If she pulls that string and finishes unhooking the bodice... The thought grinds against everything I've ever planned to do if I saw Cassie Hale again, but I never thought it'd be under these circumstances.

  A second later, Sean sits next to me. He's watching the stage with interest. "Her tits are too small, but there's something about her, isn't there Pete? With a tight little body like that, I bet her pussy is—"

  My jaw locks when Sean sits down, but when he speaks—when he says those things about her—I lose it. Before I know what I'm thinking, I pull back and let my fist fly. The chairs behind us both fall to the ground. The noise and the potential for a fight make the room go quiet. All eyes are on us, looking to see what's going on. Peter watches us from his seat, but says nothing. Sean laughs and grabs my knuckles before they collide with his face. "If you want her, take her, or I will." His voice hisses in my ear as he tugs me forward and crushes my hand.

  "Fine," I spit, ripping my hand out of his. "Have her."

  CHAPTER 22

  CASSIE

  I hate this. Stop thinking. The music pounds harder and I try to stop wondering about Jon. I don't want him to see me like this. The thought makes me want to cry, but I don't leave and I don't stop. Gretchen is working the floor, staring at me with envy. I'll make more money than her tonight, just for this one little show, so it has to be hotter than hell. The club will get tons of new clients, and that means more job security for me.

  The spotlights help and I'm glad they're shining in my eyes, blinding me to the crowd. I can only see the guys who are right at the edge of the stage. Swaying my hips, I move methodically, trailing my fingers over my thighs. The dance is different for each woman who does it, and since I didn't know what I was doing, I made something up. The thing is, what I made up was for Jonathan, and now he's out there somewhere, watching me.

  I gasp, moving slowly, forcing my curves to work for me—bending and feeling—running my hands over my flesh until I feel hot. I used to picture Jon, sitting there watching, like it was just us. It made the routine hotter because I felt it and I was into what I was doing. My mind was far away, lost in the past. Jon was the guy I wanted, and the one I'd never have.

  Any second now, I'll be standing on stage topless, wearing a G-string, and heels. And now that I have the chance to actually dance for him, I'm terrified. It's not pretend anymore, it's a horrible mistake and I want to stop. But I can't. I'm trapped. There are too many bills, too many people that I owe money to for me to stop. I can't.

  Lowering myself, I squat and slowly open my knees. Tilting my head back, I trail my fingers to the V between my legs and up my corset to my neck, finally slipping them into my mouth. I feel the men's lust filled eyes on me, and their desire. The room has grown quiet as they watch and want me.

  I stand and stretch my hands over my head and when I look out, I can't see Jon. This is it. Reaching behind my back for the corset strings, I pull. The fabric loosens and I can breathe again, but there's not enough air. Not here, not now. My lips part as I feel the bodice slip slightly, and my fingers start to work on the front closure, unhooking it and revealing the soft skin beneath. I stare into the crowd, barely breathing, wishing to God that I was somewhere else.

  Another hook pops open and the corset is ready to fall to the floor. It's held in place by a couple of hooks and nothing more. That's when a loud boom comes from the back of the room. Two men are standing, and someone throws a punch. All the guys turn and I freeze in place when I see who it is. The house lights come up slightly, enough to see Sean and Jon.

  I can't hear them, but Jon storms out without looking my way.

  That's when things get really weird. It takes a few minutes for things to settle back down. The houselights dim and the music gets cranked up louder. I shove every thought out of my head and try to finish my striptease. My hand unhooks one loop, and then another, so my hand is the only thing holding up the bodice. The corset is ready to slip off. All I have to do is remove my hand, but I hesitate. My stomach is in knots and I feel like I'm going to puke. I'm taking too long, I know I am. Covering my fear with a fake smile, I force my hand away. That's when a man rushes me. I feel hard abs slap against my skin, as my corset hits the floor. I shriek before I see who it is.

  Jonathan.

  I'm nearly naked and his body is pressed against mine, his arms around me, hiding my body. He looks into my face, breathing hard, and says, "I can't let you do this."

  Bruce is swearing up a storm, shoving his way through the room to get to me, but the guys are blocking his path. They're cheering for Jon, acting like he does crazy shit like this all the time.

  My heart pounds violently as I look into his face. "Jon, I have to."

  "No you don't." He scoops me up into his arms, angling my body towards his, and spots Bruce.

  "Put her the fuck down!" The man is beyond scary. There's death in Bruce's eyes as he plows through the crowd like a rabid bull.

  Jon laughs like he planned this, and then sprints off with me in his arms. I cling, afraid that he'll drop me. Jon bursts through the side door and runs down a hallway, and then down another. He shoulders his way into a room and slams the door. His chest fills with air rapidly as he tries to catch his breath with me still in his arms. After a second he looks at me, but his gaze won't meet mine. He presses his eyes closed tight, like he knows he's messed up.

  Every inch of me is trembling, and no matter how hard I try to make it stop, I can't. My body shivers in his arms. When his eyes open, he looks at me. "I'm sorry."

  "It's all right. I was stalling. I couldn't..." my voice catches in my throat. I couldn't strip in front of him, but he's holding me in his arms and the only reason he can't see my breasts is because I'm turned into his chest with my arms around his neck. Tears sting in my eyes, so I look down and hide my face.

  We're in a room that smells like leather and old books. Everything is richly colored browns and reds. There are a few seating areas with scattered sofas and tables. Heavy velvet drapes hang floor to ceiling, making the room feel warm and lush.

  "You're cold." He sets me down, careful not to look, and grabs a blanket off the couch behind us. Heart thumping fast, I cover my chest with my hands. As Jon steps toward me, his eyes wander over my body and make me flush. He wraps the blanket around my shoulders, pausing for a second to look into my eyes. I think he's going to say something when his lips part, but he doesn't. Instead, his hands drop and he steps away.

  "Thank you."

  Jon nods for a moment and then laughs, but there's no joy in it. "Sean played me. Holy fuck, I'm a moron." His laughter turns genuine as he circles the room and then stops in front of me.

  Bruce screams my name from somewhere down the hall. I don't answer him. "I
t's okay, you got me off the stage. There was no other way for me to back out. Thank you." Glancing at the carpet, I clutch the front of the blanket tighter.

  "Why'd you do it?" My eyes drift up and meet his. For a moment, I think he's asking about the reporters all those years ago, but he's not. He's asking about tonight. "Why'd you take this job?"

  "I had to." I don't elaborate. The lump in my throat is strangling me. I can barely breathe.

  "What about your ideals? How can you do this if you actually believed what you told me before..." Before you turned on me. Before you sold me out... Those are the words he doesn't say, but I hear them all the same. Jon runs his hand through his hair.

  Bruce's voice is growing louder. He'll find us any second.

  I smile sadly at Jon. "I did believe what I told you. I was waiting for the right guy."

  "And you found him?"

  The way he stares at me makes the center of my chest ache. I don't want to say it, but I have to. I try to force my lips into a smile, but it looks like I'm going to cry. I nod, still watching his eyes. "Yeah, I found him."

  CHAPTER 23

  JONATHAN

  I stand there and gape. I know I only have seconds to talk before that thug comes barreling through the door, but it's all I can do. She found him—Cassie found Mr. Wonderful—and gave away her first kiss and everything else, but somehow she's working at a club, stripping for money. The guy must be a total asshole.

  I want to scream. This can't be happening. My heart twists inside my chest, but that's impossible because she already ripped it out. But I feel it. I still react to her, to those deliciously dark eyes, and that hypnotic voice. I want to wrap my arms around her and start over, but we can't. We aren't the same people anymore. Besides, Mr. Assface is probably sitting at home waiting for her. Cassie has a life and I'm not part of it. The whole thing pisses me off. This is a million miles from where she wanted to be¸ and I know it.

  Barely keeping my temper in check, I ask, "So you found him? And he lets you do this? Work parties? Strip? Maybe even take a guy on the side?" Her shoulders tense as I verbally bitchslap her. Cassie's red lips part and I see the hurt in her eyes, that is, before it's replaced by anger and her hand flying toward my face. It connects with my cheek, stinging the flesh, but I don't move. I stare at her, wondering how she fell so far, so fast.

  Cassie breathes hard, her body shaking as her temper flares back to life. "You don't know a damn thing about me, so don't pretend to even give a shit, Ferro." She's in my face, hissing at me in that lethal tone I remember so well. Last time she scolded me like this it was because I provoked her. Maybe I did the same thing this time, maybe I'm not ready to let her rip my heart out twice. It's funny how I thought I was dead inside until I heard her voice again. Cassie Hale is the defibrillator for my fucked up heart. Seeing her again shocked the hell out of me and I'm suddenly so much more than a walking corpse.

  Bruce's crazed screams get closer. Doors slam up and down the hall. There are seconds left, and that's it. There isn't another minute with her, and the funny part is that this is nothing like I imagined. I always thought that if I saw Cassie Hale on the street again that I'd verbally rip her to shreds because of what she did to me. So it's strange standing here, watching her tremble, and wanting to pull her into my arms and save her from this shit.

  No. She's not my problem, not anymore. But the way she looks at me from under those dark lashes, the way the lights cast a dim glow on her perfect face, and the way she clutches the blanket to her throat like it's a goddamn lifejacket and she's drowning—it's too much. I can't step away. I can't leave her alone to endure whatever fate she's been handed, even if she deserves it.

  Pressing my lips together, I step toward her, taking her shoulders in my hands. She stiffens in my arms and it's nothing like before. She doesn't trust me, not anymore. Too many things happened between us. It doesn't matter that I saved her life once. That was a lifetime ago, and that version of Cassie Hale is long gone. But she's not completely lost, is she?

  As our eyes drift and our gazes lock, I see her still in there, hidden beneath the fray. I lift a hand and touch the ends of her glitter-caked hair. "I wanted you to find him. Even after everything—I hoped you'd get the life you wanted, the man that was right for you. You meant something to me once. I won't pretend you didn't, which is why I can't fathom you being here, now. You said you found him? Then where is he, Cass?"

  Fuck, she looks like she's going to cry. The bottoms of her eyelids flutter and her gaze darts away from mine, but I take her chin in my hand and draw it back. Come on, Cass, tell me what happened to you.

  Her lips part, but she can't speak. An awful look floods her eyes as her brows wrinkle together. My hand slips away and Cassie tightens her hold on the blanket. I see her fingers clenching it so tightly that her bright pink nails bite through the weave. She wasn't the kind of girl to wear pink or do her nails with those fake plastic things. Cassie was real, every last part of her.

  "It's not what you think. He—" before she can finish her sentence, the door flies open.

  Bruce has a terrifying look on his face—he's pissed. The insane rhino of a man rushes at me. His shoulder hits my side at the same time that his fist finds my face. Shit. I'm done talking. All the anger that's been coursing through me comes out in a fury. My fists connect with his freakishly large body over and over again. Something cracks and I hear Cassie screaming in the background, but we don't stop.

  Bruce would have snapped me in half by now if I didn't know how to fight, but anger is clouding my judgment. Bruce spits at me as I launch myself at him, grabbing his neck and locking him in place. "You stupid little shit," he huffs, and rank air fills my face. The guy has alcohol on his breath.

  I squeeze harder as Bruce slams me into a wall. The force of the impact nearly knocks me loose, but I hold on. Suddenly I notice that there are people there, besides the thug, Cassie, and me, but we don't stop. Using my weight, I manage to throw him off balance and slam his head into a bookcase. The shelf cracks and the contents fall to the floor along with him. When he pushes himself up, a bead of blood trickles into his eye. He leaves it there and gives me a look that says he's going to kill me.

  Suddenly, I see who else is in the room. Trystan and Bryan flank one side of me, and Peter and Sean flank the other. Sean is the one who speaks. "Come and get him." Then, I feel Sean's foot in my back, shoving me forward.

  I thought they had my back, but when I look at my brothers they both seem pissed. "This is your mess, Jonny."

  Trystan steps forward and shoots Sean a disgusted look. "Some brother."

  "Fuck you, Scott, you goddamn parasite," Sean bites back.

  Trystan flips Sean off and remains at my side. Bryan is a messed up motherfucker because he's laughing like this is funny. He steps next to me and smirks at Bruce after folding his arms over his chest like he thinks this will be fun. Sometimes I wonder about Bryan. The man doesn't seem to value his life, like at all, but all the same, I'm glad he's standing next to me right now.

  Then everything changes because the manager of this beautiful building storms into the room, screaming at the top of his lungs about damages and cops. His face is bright red and the little veins on his temples are throbbing like they're going to blow. Shit.

  Bryan lets out a huff of air and turns toward the guy, annoyed. "You called the cops? What the fuck is wrong with you, man? You have the richest men in New York standing in your building, along with the rock star over there," he jabs his thumb at Trystan, "and you decide to call the cops? You're going about it wrong, man. You need to call the press." Bryan looks over at Bruce. It's clear he plans to patch things up with the manager if Bruce is ready to let it drop. "Are we done here? Or do I need to stick around, because no one fucks with Jonny Ferro."

  Bruce looks like a beast, his massive body straining, muscles tense to the point they're going to snap. He points at me and snarls, "You're not welcome at my club. If you ever show your face there again, I'll rip i
t off."

  CHAPTER 24

  CASSIE

  Bryan Ferro wasn't kidding. The press showed up in a blaze of flashing lights and endless questions. The entire thing gave everyone what they wanted. Well, almost everyone. Jon is going to be the one to take all the blame. He accepted it graciously. While I ducked out the back door, Jon walked out the front, right into the eye of the storm.

  The headlines this morning are not kind. The press took every slant you could possibly imagine, and each one made the Ferro's look worse than the last. Beth tosses me another paper. "That one is going to be trouble."

  I glance up at her. Beth is wearing a cute little sweat suit with a white tee shirt and running shoes. It's her day off garb. There isn't a stitch of make-up on her face and her hair is swept up into a ponytail. She looks pretty this way. Sometimes it feels like we're leading double lives, but that would be a lot more exciting. Beth is just working her way through school, and me, well, I'm hiding.

  I take the paper and flip it open to the page that's dog-eared. There's a small picture of Jon carrying me. It must have been taken before things went to hell last night, before Bruce found us. I stare at it. My face is perfectly clear. A chill works its way up my spine as I stare, unblinking, with my mind racing.

  "Someone must have snuck in a camera," I say. Beth sits down next to me on the old couch. This little basement apartment suddenly feels too small. The lack of windows never bothered me, but now I can't breathe. I rush across the room, throw open the door, and take the short flight of stairs two at a time, running outside. Cold air hits my face and I stop, doubling over and holding my knees, while I breathe.