Ignite (The Disciples 4)

I start dancing. He’ll have to move then. I motion to the DJ in the booth to start the music as I roll my neck and get into position.

“Maniac” starts up again and still, he hasn’t budged. I spin then stop right in front of him. He smirks and a small dimple appears.

Who is this guy? Now that he’s so close, I can read the tattoo on his neck. Loyalty. This man has to be important since everyone is treating him like a king.

I let the music take over. It’s always like this when I dance. No one is here—it’s the music and me. I’m free.

Except this time, it’s not only me. A dark stranger who smells fresh and clean with a hint of smoke invades my space.

“Stop,” he commands, and the music turns off. He doesn’t even yell. I guess his voice carries.

Those piercing eyes of his pin me to this spot. “Sweetheart, you know this is a strip club, right?”

I blink at him, forcing my eyes away from his full lips, which seem to mock me. What is wrong with me?

“Full nude.” His voice is like honey and bourbon, gravelly and gruff.

“Yes.” I nod. My hand instinctively goes to my tight bun.

“As spectacular as your moves are, you can’t strip.”

It’s almost like he’s slapped me. My cheeks are on fire. How dare he say that. Of course, I can strip.

“I can strip,” I snap, and suddenly, I hate the way he looks. No one that handsome should act like him.

“We’re done.”

He turns, and just like that, it’s over. I guess… Holy shit, I’m seriously screwed. The thought that I might not get this job never occurred to me.

“Wait,” I call after his retreating back, but he jumps off the stage and heads straight for the stairs.

Panic fuels me. Turning, I try to talk to the skinny redhead. “Excuse me.” She seems deep in conversation with a dark-haired stripper. They’re engrossed in something on her clipboard.

I look around trying to figure where the steps are to get off the stage. Screw it. I leap off, causing the blond guy who was sitting next to the dark asshole to scream, “Awesome.”

Ignoring him, I walk up to the redhead. “Excuse me,” I say again. She stops talking and her eyes narrow at me.

“Sorry, but…” I take a deep breath. “I need this job. I get the feeling that guy—”

“The owner,” she says and crosses her arms. “That guy is one of the owners.”

“Oh.” I swallow. Figures he’s the owner. “Well, yes. I feel like maybe he didn’t get to see all that I can do.” I hold my shoulders back as I look around the room. Everyone is staring, not even hiding the fact. I don’t care what they think. I need the job.

She looks at me. Her eyes go up and down my body. She’s not exactly friendly, and I’m somewhat startled at how different she looks up close. The amount of makeup she’s wearing worked fine from a distance. But up close, it seems to have found all her wrinkles.

“I’d love for you to consider me. I’m a hard worker. I’ll show up on time. I’m honest…” She looks down at her clipboard as if I’m not even talking.

Perfect. She hates me.

“Honest?” She snorts. “This application is missing all sorts of important things, starting with your real name, address, and social security number.” She shoves her clipboard in my face.

My eyes dart around the room again as I think of how to defend myself. Ninety percent of the strippers are back to talking, which leads me to believe I’ve struck out again.

I close my eyes for a second. This is it. If I can’t get a job taking my clothes off, I might as well give up.

“Look, I…”

“Crystal. That’s my name.” She puts the clipboard under her arm. “Tell you what. I’ll hire you.”

“Oh, thank God.” I almost burst into tears.

“Don’t thank me yet. The owner said ‘no’ to you. You need to sing your sob story to him. Trust me, he loves to listen to sob stories.” She smirks and turns back to the dark-haired girl standing next to her.

“Stop staring, Destiny.” She elbows her.

“Right. Sorry, surprised that’s all.” Destiny’s eyes look like they’re bugging out of her head.

Crystal smiles at her, then at me, and I frown. Clearly I’m missing something.

“If he’s still here, he’s in the office. You can go now.” She smiles. Half her teeth have red lipstick on them.

“Downstairs, first door to the right. It says ‘office’ in case you get lost.”

Before I can say thank you, she’s turned her back to me, calling names off her clipboard.

I open my mouth, then shut it. This might be one of those times when I should stay quiet and find the owner. Turning, I make my way down the stairs. Unbelievable. The owner is that hot tattooed guy. My stomach flips and it’s all I can do to ignore the butterflies and excitement.