“Sasha’s been popping an awful lot of pills lately,” she says. “I think maybe she’s turning into a junkie or something.”
My response is hasty and uncontrollable. Before I can cop onto myself, I’ve got a hold of her by the arms, glaring down into her terrified face.
“Do ye like working here at Slainte?” I ask her.
“Y-y-yes,” she stutters.
“And do ye like waking up every morning?”
She nods her head spastically, but no words come out this time. It’s just as well, because I don’t know what I’m doing. Only that I can’t control myself where Sasha is concerned. Which is why I stay far away from her.
“Do not ever so much as mention Sasha’s name again,” I tell Kaya. “In any form, or conversation of the sort. Do ye get me?”
She nods again, but I’m not through with her yet.
“Her mother is dying. And she thinks that ye’re her mate. If you even so much as whisper something about her to one of the other girls, or any of the lads for that matter…”
“Alright, Ronan.” She tries to pat me on the chest to placate me. I shove her away and she nearly falls off her high heels.
“I get it,” she says quickly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be catty.”
“Aye, you were,” is my reply.
She presses her lips together and crosses her arms. “I won’t say another word on the subject.”
“I don’t want to see ye back here again,” I tell her. “Let me be.”
She does as I ask and toddles off towards the dressing room.
I already know about Sasha and the pills. I found them in her purse last week when I noticed she’d been acting a wee bit off during her performance. And every night since then, I’ve followed her back to her house and checked the bottle.
It’s a problem. One I haven’t worked out how to handle. Like everything else when it comes to Sasha. But I will not stand for anyone speaking about her that way. She isn’t an addict. She’s wrecked over her mammy’s illness and it’s clearly making her a bit mad.
I don’t understand it myself, but Crow was the same when his mammy passed. I’ve seen it before with the lads too, any time one of our mates meets his maker. It’s the natural progression of things, I believe. But I’ve indulged Sasha’s recklessness as long as I’m willing to. This issue with the pills is going to stop. It’s going to stop tonight.
I collapse back into the leather seat and check my watch. Five minutes pass while I wait, and I spend them chasing up one glass of Jameson with another. When the music starts up and the stage lights come on, I lean back in my chair and give my sole attention to the dancer onstage.
Her long silky dark hair nearly touches the curves of her ass when she arches her back and tips her head back. She has a body that was made for the stage. That’s what Niall said when he hired her. I wanted to punch his teeth in, even if it is true.
Her skin glows under the lights and captures the attention of every male in the room. My own body responds when I remember what it felt like to touch. The few small parts of it that I did touch. When I lost control. When I allowed myself to be reckless with her.
It’s something not even time can wash away. My mind knows every inch of her body, including the parts my hands have never felt. Round hips and a small waist. Soft, full breasts. Everything about her is sensual and feminine, and every animal in the room has his eyes on her. I have an urge to gouge them all out when I catch them looking at her.
I never wanted her here. In this environment. But without claiming her as my own, I had no say in the matter. And I will never claim her as my own. Which leaves me with one solution. I’ve no choice but to bear it. To watch the lads leer at her and make comments.
She hasn’t any idea that none of them will ever have her. The ones who feel up to trying leave here with a few broken bones if they’re lucky. She doesn’t know that either. Crow and I have an agreement. She isn’t mine. But I still don’t want them touching her.
As she performs, her face scans the crowd as it usually does. I often wonder if she’s looking for someone. I often wonder if that someone could be me. Sometimes, I prefer to sit out of the shadows, where I know I can be seen. Her blue eyes always meet mine for a second. In that moment, I try to sort out what she’s thinking. They are so pure and gentle. Filled with a goodness that I’ll never know. Everything about her is like that.
Her lips are soft and pink and only speak kind words. She doesn’t talk like the other girls. She doesn’t gossip or speak just for the sake of talking. And she’s always nice to me. She never laughs at me, like some of them do.