I danced easily for the better part of the night, and Greg or Jacob came and got me every hour for a quick break. There was always cold, bottled water within reach.
It was almost one in the morning, and I was doing my last set when my heart stopped. Holy shit. That was Sculpt; I’d recognize him anywhere. He stood with his arm around a cute brown-haired girl who I recognized as his wife, Emily. He had a drink in hand and was peering over the railing at the crowd below while Emily chatted with Crisis.
Shit, Killian was there, too.
He was tilted forward, hands gripping the glass railing, and his eyes were focused on me.
I whirled around and danced holding the bars on either side. When I flicked my head back, bending over backward at the waist, my eyes went straight to him, and he was still watching me.
Shit. Could he tell it was me? No way. I looked nothing like myself and was wearing a mask. Plus it was too far away. I was being paranoid, and if I wanted this job, I was going to have to get over this fear that he’d find out. What was the worst that could happen? He’d tell Brett.
I kept my back to him as I finished my dance and the music ended.
Greg came to get me five minutes later, and I grabbed my water and… oh, shit. Upstairs. Our change room was upstairs, and I’d have to walk right by him and his friends.
I stopped.
Greg frowned, his eyes puzzling. “What’s up?”
I couldn’t very well try to trick him again, and there was no chance he’d fall for it, plus I had no clothes, no purse, no car keys. So I opted for the truth.
We were at the bottom of the stairs and I held the handrail, my fingers tapping the iron. “I… well, Kite is here. From Tear Asunder.”
Greg frowned. “Yeah. That a problem?”
I nodded. “I’d rather not meet him looking like this.”
His expression softened. “Don’t worry about it. He’s used to fans drooling over him.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to drool all over him. Plus, he looked kind of pissed off.”
“The club isn’t his favorite place. He’s not pissed off.”
“Like fuck I’m not,” Killian said, coming up behind us.
I gasped. Crap.
“Kite?” Greg questioned, his hand on the small of my back dropping away when Killian’s furious glare went from me to Greg’s hand on me then back to Greg’s face.
There was really nothing for me to say except, “Hey, Killian.”
“Hey, Killian?” His jaw clenched. “Jesus, Savvy. What the fuck? What the ever-loving fuck?”
Greg shifted closer to me because Killian was really pissed and Greg’s job was to protect me, even if it was from a famous rock star. It was nice to know he had my back. I was really liking Greg.
“Is there a problem?” This was not from Greg or Kite. This was from Brett Westhill, the club owner who I now noticed stood behind Killian.
Killian’s glare shifted from me to Brett. “This is Savvy Grady.
Brett’s eyes widened for a second, and then he said, “Fuck. No way.”
“Yeah, fuck,” Killian barked, then looked back at me. “What part of our conversation did you not get? I told you, not in my fuckin’ club.”
I jolted. What? His club? What was he talking about? “Your club?”
I peered at Greg who looked uncomfortable as he stood stiffly beside me, uncertain as to what was going on. But Brett appeared rather amused as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned his hip against the stair railing.
He was hot, a different kind of hot than Killian as they were complete opposites. Where Killian was dark and mysterious, Brett was blond and carefree, wearing his emotions on his face. I’d heard he was also a huge flirt, too, whereas I couldn’t really see Killian flirting. He definitely hadn’t in school.
No, he’d be the type to tell a girl to get on her knees and suck his cock, and she’d simply do it.
I swallowed then realized my eyes had shifted to Killian’s crotch. Jesus. My gaze darted up to his face, and his brows were drawn over his eyes with a crease between them.
“I own half,” Killian ground out.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t advertise it.”
Oh. Okay. Well, that explains why he’d been here during the day on Wednesday. He partially owned the place, which I found odd because Greg said he wasn’t even a fan of the club. Then why get into the business? It wasn’t like he needed the money.
“She’s not dancing here,” he said to Brett.
I curled my fingers around the handrail and even though my posture was always good, I straightened more, raising my chin. “I’m already dancing here. I did.”
“And you won’t again.”
“We’ll see.” The sexy mouth I’d once tasted was not looking too appealing right now as the devilish corners tipped down. Lips were pressed together as he clamped his jaw. Okay, maybe not the smartest thing to say to Killian in his current state.
He glared at Greg. “Put her in the office. After she gets out of those clothes.” He turned to walk in the other direction.
“I’m not going to sit in an office while you make me feel like I’m in trouble.”
Killian stopped. Strode back and got right in my space, the railing the only reason his chest wasn’t against mine. “You don’t need to feel like you’re in trouble. You are in fuckin’ trouble.”
This time it was me who stepped back and found myself right against Greg. “How did you know it was me?”
Some of the tension eased from around his eyes, but not enough that I was confident there wasn’t going to be some shouting in his office.
“Savvy, I know every single fuckin’ way your body moves even after eleven years. So, you wearing a mask thinking I wouldn’t recognize you dance… not a fuckin’ chance.”
My mouth gaped. He knew how my body moved? He recognized how I danced? How was that even possible? When had he ever seen me dance? “You know how my body moves?”