“What makes you think I like to dance?”
His hand fell to his side and he shrugged again.
“You’re in a nightclub, and you’re not drinking. So you must be here to dance. Please, dance with me.”
I sighed with disappointment. Even if he was good looking, the guy couldn’t take a hint. I’d made it clear that I wasn’t dancing.
He held out his hand again, but I shook my head impatiently. “Then go find someone who will dance with you.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and then he grinned as he leaned on the table, his face inches from mine. “Maybe I want to dance with you.”
“Then you’ll be waiting a long time,” I laughed coldly.
But I couldn’t help my traitorous eyes tracking over his too handsome face. Golden skin stretched across sharp cheekbones, and his lips looked soft and generous. His black eyebrows were arched over dark eyes. And then I noticed a beauty spot shaped like a teardrop beneath his left eye—a perfect imperfection.
“I’m a good dancer,” he said, looking almost wounded at my continued refusal.
My anger snapped. Tiredness, my fight with Collin, and frustration at the damned wheelchair taking away this weekend that meant so much.
“I’m not dancing!”
“But everyone comes here to dance.”
“Not me!”
“You’ll have a good time.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I sneered. “Your last friend seemed to enjoy herself immensely.”
A dull red flooded his cheeks and he looked away.
His reaction surprised me. I’d hurt his feelings.
Then I felt guilty taking out my bitterness on him, but dammit! Why wouldn’t he leave me alone?
“Maybe I’d like to dance with a pretty girl for a change,” he said softly, glancing up at me from beneath long dark lashes.
I didn’t believe him. Not even for a second. I gave him a supercilious look and turned my head away.
“You are missing out,” he whispered.
My jaw tightened in disgust.
“Laney, is this guy bothering you?”
I breathed a sigh of relief as Vanessa and Jo strode toward us, their lips pursed and their eyes flashing dangerously.
Ash looked nervous, his glance flicking between my friends and the bouncers by the exit. He started backing away, his hands held out from his sides.
“I just asked her to dance, that’s all. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
Jo threw him a disbelieving look and stood with her hands on her hips.
“Do you want to go back to your room now?” Vanessa asked.
I nodded silently as Jo continued to glare.
Vanessa walked behind my chair and handed me the pashmina that had been hanging on the back. Then she unlocked the brakes on the wheelchair and pushed me away from the table.
Ash’s mouth dropped open.
“Still think I’m pretty?” I asked him, as my eyes filled with tears.
Ash
I PUSHED AWAY from the table, burning with humiliation and shock.
She was pretty, the girl in the wheelchair. Natural, not fake like so many of the girls I saw in Vegas. Her hair was a warm, honey blonde that had been left straight and shiny. She’d worn a little makeup, but, only mascara and some lip gloss.
I’d been attracted to her even though I knew that she wasn’t the type of woman who’d be interested in a guy like me. Not anymore.
I thought about the kind of man I’d become—nothing better than a fucking prostitute. Although I still got to dance.
And then if my evening wasn’t bad enough, I saw Sergei pushing through the crowded lobby toward me, Oleg in his wake.
I turned and disappeared into the river of tourists.
Two weeks. That’s all it had taken me to be persuaded to turn tricks for money. I disgusted myself.
It had happened after rehearsals one evening. He’d sent another note, demanding money, demanding to meet.
I knew what a meeting would mean: he’d never made any secret of the fact the he wanted to fuck me to clear the so-called debt.
He’d started by leaving messages with Trixie and once with Gary, saying he wanted his money . . . or ‘a dinner date with my favorite dancer’. No fucking way! But the money I’d saved from my meager pay was a fraction of what he was asking for—and the amount increased daily. It was extortion—and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. It was so fucking frustrating knowing that I had €5,000 sitting in a Slovenian bank, but I had no way of accessing it, despite my best efforts so far.
I’d been avoiding Sergei, but I didn’t have the money and time was running out. Gary offered me a loan, but I could tell from the fear on his face that there would be repercussions. I’d thought about it and thought about it, losing sleep over what I had to do.
That first time, I’d gone to a bar far away from the hotel, wanting nothing more than to be left in peace, to drink until I couldn’t feel anymore.
But I hadn’t been seated at the bar for long when a woman came up to me.
“Drinking alone?”