Dark Queen

“The man who paid for your enrolment…he wanted you gone. I thought if I showed you the darker side of this business…”

“No.” I point my finger in her face. “Don’t say that like it’s not a choice you make. You allow men like that to pray on dancers who trust you, who come here to progress and learn, not sell themselves to the highest bidder.”

She thins her lips, jutting out her jaw in defiance. “The world is built on rich men paying for the privilege of women’s company. Don’t be naïve, Alyssa. There is no greater prize than a swan.”

“You disgust me,” I tell her, my muscles coiling under my skin. “I want my place secured here. No one gets to see or take my body as payment.”

“It’s not possible. I was told to get you out of here, send you home. I thought you’d never look back after...” She diverts her eyes, crossing her arms.

I step into her eyeline, forcing her to look at me, feel the shame of what she did. “After you locked me in a room with a pervert?” I finish for her.

“He’s harmless. He just likes to think he has some power here.”

Her words cause an abrupt unhumorous laugh to erupt from my chest. “Have you listened to yourself?” I open the shawl, letting her see what her harmless power-hungry animal was capable of. “Maybe we should lock you in a room with him?”

She scans the marks left on my arms, the bruises from Luca I’ve hidden with concealer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think he would actually touch you.” She sounds sincere, but I’m past listening to her excuses.

“Why would my benefactor want me gone? What does it matter to them if I move home or stick around?” I push her for information, and her shoulders bristle.

“I don’t know the answers to the questions you have,” she informs me, exhaling a tired breath.

“Then tell me where to get the answers,” I demand.

A flash of fear shadows her face. “I can’t.” She shakes her head adamantly.

“If you don’t, I’ll tell anyone who will listen just what Madam Georgina is willing to sell in order to gain funding,” I threaten.

“Alyssa,” she warns, her tone returning to that of authority.

“I have nothing to lose,” I remind her, knowing what she’s going to say before the words leave her mouth.

Bastard.

Chapter Thirty-One

Luca

Focusing on any task is difficult knowing I’ve sent Marcello to Swan to have Alyssa’s funding pulled.

She can’t be here any longer. Returning to her little farm life where she’s safe is what’s best.

When this is all over, if I still can’t shake this draw to her, I’ll go there and take my fill.

I turn her phone over in my hand. I decided not to give it back after I found it stuffed down the couch at the club where she’d fallen asleep.

It’s best she doesn’t have the contacts she’s made here tempting her to stick around.

There are a ton of missed calls and texts from a Clint I’m trying not to look at.

It’s beneath me to be jealous, yet the green acid burns in my chest when his fucking name flashes up for the hundredth time.

My finger hovers over the answer button just as Hannah appears at the entrance of my office, preventing me from answering.

“How long do you want us to remain closed?” she asks, holding an iPad, taking notes.

I closed all our New York businesses to err on the side of caution after what happened at the club. The wheels are already in motion for dealing with the Blaydon brothers.

By the time I’m done with them, they’re going to wish they’d never met me.

“A week.”

“Okay. I’ve informed all but one of the staff members. I can’t reach Alyssa.” She looks at me, scratching her chin, a slight tremor in her hand. “I was going to stop by her dorm and see if she’s there.”

Holding my hand up, I narrow my eyes. “This doesn’t seem like a me problem, Hannah. Why don’t you just spit out what you really want to know?”

“Have you seen her? She covered for me at the club because I was sick…” She places a hand to her chest.

“You’ve been sick a lot recently.” I wouldn’t normally notice, but being here more lately—because of Alyssa—I had.

“Actually…” she moves from one foot to the other; another fidgeter, “that’s something I wanted to talk to you about—”

Her words cut off when a door opens, beckoning her attention. She swivels her head to someone coming up the hall. “It doesn’t matter,” she rushes out as Marcello and Antonio force her to step back so they can enter my office.

Antonio smirks at her, and she blanches. His eyes follow her departure.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” I raise a brow. I liked coming here because it was somewhere Antonio never came.