She’d danced in her signature red lace dress and underwear as Kate Delaney that night at the Red Room—the highest-end strip club in Vegas, legendary for its beautiful women and sumptuous interiors. To wear red and dance last meant she was the owner’s favorite, the most requested dancer of the week. Which wasn’t unusual for her. She pulled in a ton of regulars who came to see her cool, untouchable beauty uncovered; to watch the sensual, erotic transformation unfold.
None of them could have known it was all an act for their benefit. That it was as far from the real Bailey as you could get.
Alexander Gagnon had sat in the front row that night. As he had every night for the past three. She’d felt his eyes on her, dark and unmoving. Despite the fact that there had been at least a hundred and fifty other men in the club, she had only been conscious of him. Of the tall, dark figure who had approached her each night to have a drink with him and whom she’d turned down flat despite the money he’d thrown at her, because there was something about the exquisitely dressed stranger with his thousand-dollar ties that said red light to her.
That night she had retreated to the dressing room, strangely affected by the intensity of the experience. The magnitude of the tip Alexander had left her. Her fellow dancers had showered and dressed in a mad rush to hit the town. Since she’d just been heading home to study for an exam the next day, Bailey had taken her time, sat at her dressing table and removed her thick, dramatic makeup. At some point she’d looked up to find the tall dark stranger standing inside the doorway. That all the other girls had gone. If you were to look past the dangerous edge to him that smoldered just below the surface, she would have called him inordinately handsome. Distinguished. But all she could smell was the scent of her own fear as she got to her feet, heart pounding.
“You can’t be in here.”
He’d lifted a brow. “Bruno owes me one. He gave us five minutes.”
Her manager had let him in? “Get out.”
He’d leaned back against the doorway, his gaze moving over her so slowly, so assessingly, she’d had to fight the urge to pull the edges of her blouse together. “After I give you my proposition, Kate.”
She should have walked to the door then and had him thrown out, but she’d been afraid of him.
“You’ve rejected my requests to join me for a drink three nights in a row,” he’d murmured, eyes glittering as he pushed away from the door and walked toward her. “I figured I’d try another strategy.” She’d backed up until her behind was against the dressing table, trying hard not to show her fear. “I know you’re a student, Kate. I’m offering you fifty thousand dollars for a night. Any hard limits, I’ll respect them.”
She had stared at him, shocked. Shocked that anyone would pay that much for a night with someone. Shocked that that person would be her. She was the woman men shoved money at in a dirty, covetous thrill. Not a high-priced escort.
For a second, for one split second, it had crossed her mind that fifty thousand dollars would cover her tuition and living expenses for the year. She could spend the days going to school and studying like a normal student. She wouldn’t have to be exhausted all the time turning her nights and days upside down…snatching a couple hours’ study before she passed out at night. She could leave the backbreaking pain of her four-inch heels behind. Just like that.
Then hot shame had flooded through her. How could she even be considering it?
She’d pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of my dressing room.”
He’d just stood there. “Everyone has a price, Kate. Name it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” She’d walked past him to the door and flung it open. “I don’t.”
He must have seen the hatred burning in her eyes, because he’d left. Afterward, Bruno had denied involvement, then had been fired a few weeks later for stealing money from the club.
Alexander Gagnon had shown up for the next two nights to see if she’d changed her mind. It had been the hardest two nights of her working career, her ability to concentrate nonexistent.
“Bailey?”
Davide was frowning, eyeing her plate. “You didn’t enjoy your meal?”
She looked up to see the waitstaff hovering by her side, ready to remove the seafood salad sitting practically untouched in front of her. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I’m just a little off.”
“Perhaps you got too much sun today,” he suggested in French. “You are so fair.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”
Jared hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire meal. It could have been because she didn’t seem able to add any intelligent insights to the conversation, or alternatively, ask any valuable questions. Either way, it felt hard to breathe and she needed to escape.
She excused herself and made a beeline for the ladies’ room. It was downstairs, off the opulent drawing room, done in royal-blue marble with gold accents. She pulled in some deep breaths, splashed water on her ashen face, then pressed one of the thick, luxurious hand towels to her face.
Could a nightmare actually come to life? Because this was hers…
She applied some lipstick and pinched her cheeks to give them color, but she still looked deathly pale as she left her sanctuary and headed back upstairs. She had just stepped on deck when Alexander cut her off at the pass.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Bailey.” He leaned his arm on the railing and blocked the way back to the others. “Or should I say Kate? What is your real name?”
Bailey gave him a blank look, fighting to keep her composure. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You think I don’t remember you?” He rested his gaze on her face, as chilling and unnerving as it had been that night he’d sat in the audience watching her. “I remember every curve, every dip of your mind-blowing body. How you seduced every man in that room and left them begging for more.”
A fresh wave of perspiration broke out on her brow. “You have the wrong woman,” she rasped. “And this is not at all appropriate.”
“I don’t think I do.” He pushed away from the railing and took the last couple of steps toward her. Bailey’s heart knocked against her ribs. A cool Mediterranean breeze flitted over her but she felt vaguely feverish. “I saw it on your face that night. You wanted to say yes.”
“I don’t know you,” she bit out and started to brush by him. He curled his fingers around her arm and brought her to a halt.
“They don’t know, do they?” His smoky gaze heated with challenge. “You’ve moved on. Gone to a great deal of trouble to put your past behind you…”
Yes. And she wasn’t going back there now.
“Get your hands off her, Gagnon.”
Jared’s low, menacing command came from behind them. She twisted around and found him watching them, hands clenched by his sides, tall, lean body coiled like a cat ready to pounce. Her heart zigzagged across her chest, threatening to explode right out of it. God, no. He couldn’t know about this.
Alexander lifted his hand from her arm and stepped back. “Cool your jets, Stone. We were just having a conversation.”
Jared took a step closer until he was toe-to-toe with Alexander. “I don’t particularly like the nature of it. And neither does Bailey from the looks of it. So perhaps we should all return to the table for dessert?”
Alexander stared him down, just for the fun of it, Bailey guessed semi-hysterically. Her airways seemed closed to oxygen. Alexander lifted his hands in the air. “Beautiful, isn’t she? Can’t blame you. Ask her about the sexy mole on her hip, Stone. It’s quite something…or maybe you already know that?”
Bailey’s heart sank into the deck. A trickle of perspiration rolled down her neck as Alexander turned and sauntered off. He had not just said that.
Jared’s gaze moved over her face. It was the stillness, the absolute stillness about him that got to her. “What is he talking about, Bailey? And how do you know him?”
She shook her head, in full denial. “I don’t know him.” And that was true. She didn’t know anything about him. Except he was now the key player who would decide their fate in the biggest deal of her life. Of Jared’s life.
Jared stepped closer to her. “Then why are you white as a ghost? Why have you been off since the moment you saw him?”
Her brain swirled in a desperate attempt to make this go away. Heart thumping painfully hard against her chest, she looked up at him. “He is an obnoxious jerk who has mistaken me for someone else. I am not good with boats, Jared. Never have been. And I don’t want to make it an issue for Davide, who has been kind enough to take us on this lovely sail. So I think we should get back to the others before he worries.”
She brushed past him before he could stop her and headed back to the table where dessert was being served. Somehow she managed to spoon a few mouthfuls of the undoubtedly delicious chocolate mousse into her mouth. But she tasted nothing. How could she when the world felt as if it was unraveling around her?