Donovan (Face-Off 3)

Our next shift moves to the main room of the club where girls are dancing inside cages suspended from the vaulted ceiling. Bruno used to switch me with the girls who normally worked above the dance floor, but one night, I got so sick from the height that he hasn’t forced me to go up there since. Now, he wants the girls to dance on top of a long mahogany bar at the center of the club where everyone can perfectly see us as we step onto the stools and climb up onto the bar.

I almost lose my balance when my shoe collides with something wet, causing me to glide toward one of the six poles bolted into the ceiling and fixed to the wood. On my first night as a dancer, I didn’t adjust to the black lights, and I walked into the bottom of the stage, falling onto the platform with my arms sprawled out and my legs sticking up in the air. It was beyond humiliating. I thought about quitting after that night, but Donna convinced me to stick with it, said things would get better as time went by. She was right. But that does not change how I feel about this job.

I could have worked a different job, apart from the public defender’s office, but I wanted to make some fast cash to pay off my debts. According to my projections, it will be at least one year, if not more, before I am debt-free. My pride has to take a backseat to the mountain of bills and collection agencies hounding me on a daily basis. I am flat broke and drowning in school loans.

“No touching!” the bouncer yells at a guy who has grabbed my leg, his sleazy hand running up the length of my calf. “I said, no touching.”

I try to shake him off, holding on to the pole and hopping around, as the bouncer peels the guy’s fingers from my skin and grips him by his shirt.

When the bouncer turns to manhandle him, my hand slides down the metal of the sweat-coated pole. With the slickness from spilled drinks on the bar, I fall forward after the guy releases my leg, having nothing left to keep me from tumbling to the ground. Except my body never hits the floor because strong arms have wrapped around me. The scent of musk and laundry detergent fill my nostrils as my nose crashes against the neck of the man who caught me.

“I got you, beautiful,” he whispers into my ear, his voice deep and sensual.

He sets me on the floor his striking green eyes luring me in. The dark tats on his muscular arms cause my heart to flutter a bit. Damn if he’s not one of the sexiest men I have laid eyes on in a long time. I was already curious about the man who saved me, but now…

Fashioned into tiny spikes that stick up in different directions, his dark auburn hair has more brown to it than red, somehow making him even more alluring. He has a trace of stubble along his angular jaw, completing the younger, sexier Michael Fassbender look.

My God, he’s gorgeous. Can I even use that word when talking about a man?

“I’m sorry about that!” he yells over the music. “My friend is an asshole. Let me make it up to you. What are you drinking?”

“I can’t, not when I’m working.”

“After work then.”

Before I can respond, a bouncer pulls me away from him and pushes the guy further into the crowd.

My cue to get back to work.

Bruno watches us from camera feeds in his office. I have no doubt, he is pissed about me taking a minute to talk to the man who spared me massive humiliation.

You okay? Donna mouths to me as I climb onto the bar.

I try to compose myself before getting back to our routine. With a quick nod, I continue moving to the beat of the music, falling in line with the rest of the girls on the bar with me. It’s rare for a customer to ever get close enough to us that we have cause for concern—not unless they’ve paid for a more intimate experience in the VIP room, but even that premium service only gets them within a few feet of the girls.

Among the guys in the crowd, I spot him instantly. He’s the kind of guy who stands out. He must be in his early twenties, though he could pass as older.

The boy who touched me must have evaded the bouncer because he’s found his way back to the group of guys surrounding my tatted savior. He chases the boy away with a wave of his hand, his mouth twisted in disgust while speaking to him, and then he steps next to a tall, dark-haired man with a scruffy beard and unkempt appearance. They do not look like friends. I’m shocked someone so yummy would even hang out with guys like the troll next to him and the skeevy dude who tried to feel me up. But the two guys to his left, the ones with beautiful women dangling on their arms, are even better-looking, similar in height, and just as well built.

Despite my rule of not focusing on anyone too long, I cannot take my eyes off him. And, once he leans into his unattractive friend to talk to him, our eyes meet at the same time, and I forget I’m supposed to be moving to the beat and following a routine. My body does what it wants, repeating the sequences from memory. He stares so hard, so intense, that, if the lights weren’t so damn hot already, I’d melt under his gaze.

He sifts through the crowd and steps in front of the bar to order, his eyes never leaving mine. After the bartender hands him a drink, he licks his lips at me and takes a sip from his glass. Lost in him, I don’t even realize the song has ended until Donna taps me on the shoulder, snapping me out of my trance.

“C’mon, Liv. Get your ass in gear.”

Ending our staring contest, I turn around, giving him a nice view of my ass in my barely there outfit, and I hop down from the bar. I look over my shoulder at him one last time before I follow behind Donna. He smiles and raises his glass at me, and I grin like an idiot.

I walk into the dressing room with Donna at my side, the other girls ahead of us.

Donna pats me on the back and pulls me closer. “That was a close call, huh? He had his hand wrapped pretty tightly around your leg.”

“I didn’t even have time to react before the bouncer threw him out.”

“You should’ve kicked him in the face for getting so close.” She tilts her head back and laughs. “That would’ve taught that bastard a lesson for touching the goods.”

Taking a seat in front of my dressing table, I sigh. “I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t had dudes try to touch me before. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Donna sits beside me, pressing down on the corner of her eye to hold her fake lashes in place. “At least you start your new job on Monday. You won’t need this place soon enough.” She turns to me and frowns. “I’ll miss you when you are a hotshot professor and have dozens of published papers in some fancy law journal.”