Chapter 12: Chapter 12

FRANCESCA

“Daisy’s making a move on your table, Cheer,” James tells me, nodding toward the VIP table at the back of the room.

Marty had given me clear instructions to take care of the new owner tonight, but it seems he’s arrived early.

Daisy, one of the new girls who hasn’t quite figured out the hierarchy yet, is already serving him his drink.

“Cue me in,” I tell James, and he chuckles as he picks up the mic. My music starts, and James announces me.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, your favorite, New York’s own, Cheer!” James grins. “Show them what you’ve got, gorgeous.”

I do my usual routine, hips swaying as I head to the pole. I wrap a leg around it and let myself fall into a backbend before spinning flawlessly.

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I’m compelled to look at the new owner; after all, he’s the one I’m supposed to be impressing.

My eyes widen when I see the new owner.

Christian De Luca is glaring in my direction, his hand clenched around his scotch glass.

A small part of me wants to jump off the stage and run to him.

He’s the reason I’ve spent the last four days feeling lonely and depressed, the reason my room in James’s apartment smells like old Chinese food.

He’s the reason Marty had to come over yesterday, playing the disappointed surrogate father, and make me come back to work.

Marty had threatened to beat up the man who made me cry, but seeing Christian here now, I doubt Marty will follow through.

Christian is everything I want, but just out of reach. We’re too different, plain and simple.

I turn away from Christian, focusing on the rowdy group of regulars in the front row showering me with bills.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see an angry Christian stand up, but I stick to my performance, not letting his presence affect me.

Marty and James notice his movement, too, and quickly intercept him. Christian shrugs them off, and I can feel his eyes burning into me.

One of the regulars reaches up to tuck a ten-dollar bill into my thigh highs, and just as his hand touches me, Christian appears behind him.

I watch Christian pull back his fist, and my facade falls.

“Christian!” My voice makes him drop his hand and look at me with angry, narrowed eyes.

“Stop,” I beg him.

“Get down,” he mutters. “Now.”

“Christ—”

“Now.” He cuts me off, his voice a low growl, and I signal the audio guys to change the music and jump off the front of the stage.

One of the regulars stands up, clearly upset that my performance was cut short.

“Get in line! I’ve waited all night for Cheer!” the drunk regular slurs.

“Don’t worry, boys, I’ll be back soon,” I say, gently placing my hand on the man’s chest, and he falls back into his seat with a goofy smile.

I hear Christian growl behind me, and no sooner have I spoken than I’m being dragged by the wrist toward Marty’s office.

Christian throws the door open, pulls me inside, and kicks it shut behind him. He practically throws me against the wall, holding my arms above my head and pinning me with his body.

His hot lips press against mine, silencing any protest from my mouth or my mind. I let him take control, missing him, wanting him.

In this moment, I don’t care that he went all caveman and basically dragged me like a doll. I just want more, more of Christian De Luca.

He groans into my mouth as my body takes off on its own, grinding against him.

His tongue explores every inch of my mouth, and when he lets my arms fall, I wrap them around his neck, pulling him even closer.

We’re so wrapped up in each other that we don’t hear Marty’s office door open.

“Since when did you offer private dances, Cheer?” I hear James’s joking voice, and I move my head to the side.

Christian, oblivious to anyone else in the room, starts kissing my neck. His teeth graze my skin, and I bite back a moan, knowing James is basically laughing at us.

I unwrap my arms from around his neck and gently push his chest.

Eventually, Christian pauses, moving back half an inch. He rests his forehead against mine.

“Kitten, I—”

“Marty will be pleased to know that Cheer is giving the new owner the VIP treatment,” James teases, and Christian turns to face him like some sort of rabid Pit Bull.

“What did you say?” Christian stands at his full height, his eyes cold; he’s the picture of a terrifying CEO. I watch James visibly gulp and put him out of his misery.

“James is joking, Christian.”

“James?” Christian clarifies, his eyebrows furrowed.

“James Abbott, Christian De Luca,” I say, pointing between them. James extends his hand.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” James says, sucking up big time.

“You’re Francesca’s roommate.” Christian states it like a question, and James lets his hand drop back to his side, looking back and forth between us.

“Yeah, man, I was just helping her out. Frankie had nowhere to—”

“Mr. De Luca!” Marty bursts through his office door, his face panicked.

“I’m so sorry. Cheer is our best dancer; however, if you found her performance not to your liking, then she can...” He trails off when he sees me.

“She can what, Marty?” I challenge him, raising my eyebrows.

“Francesca will no longer dance or serve drinks to those animals,” Christian says, staring straight at Marty.

“Of course, I—”

“What?” I shout, but no one seems to pay me any attention.

“We will look at giving the whole place a facelift. The decor is outdated, and the whole place could be made to feel...classier. Now the apartment block next door. How many vacant apartments?”

“None.”

“Well, I suppose that is good news. Is there a display apartment I can see?”

James speaks up from the corner of the room, “You can see mine.” Christian’s eyes narrow in James’ direction before a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Perfect.”

“Can we revisit the part where I’m suddenly jobless?” I interject, drawing the attention of three pairs of eyes. “You can’t be serious?” I stand, hands on hips, eyes narrowed at Christian.

“I’m dead serious, kitten. No girl of mine—”

“Yours? Since when?”

“Since our date.”

“Our date? Christian, that date was a disaster. I’ve spent nearly a week crying over you and that date, and now you just stroll in here and get me fired...”

My voice trails off as I realize we’re not as alone as I initially thought.

“I didn’t get you fired.”

“I can’t dance or serve. What else is there for me to do at a strip club?”

Christian sighs and turns back to Marty and James.

“I’d like to see the apartment now. I’ll have an engineer and an interior designer come through the club tomorrow to start brainstorming ideas.”

Marty nods and leads Christian back through the club.

“So, now you’re ignoring me?” I shout over the music.

“You should be familiar with it. You did it to me for a week, kitten,” he retorts, and I see genuine hurt in his eyes.

~You had a reason for ignoring him, Frankie.~

I spin on my heels and head toward the back room. I’ve only taken three steps when a strong hand stops me.

“Where are you going?”

“Since I’m fired, I’m going to get my stuff. I need my jacket if I’m going to leave the club unless you want me to walk out like this.” I gesture down to my cheerleader lingerie and thigh highs.

Christian’s eyes rake over me hungrily as if he’s just now remembering what I’m wearing. He nods, and I add a little extra sway to my hips as I walk away, eliciting a groan from him.

As soon as I enter the back room, Candy is squealing and jumping up and down.

“What?” I ask her, and she throws her arms around me, pulling me into her excited jumping.

“Is he the one? The guy you went on a date with? He’s fucking gorgeous, Cheer!”

“Yeah, Mr. Gorgeous just got me fired.”

“What?”

“He’s the new owner and seems to have some sort of possessive claim over me, which I don’t get at all, but he just made Marty fire me.”

“Marty would never! You’re like a daughter to him.”

“Well, he just did.”

Candy is called out onto the stage, and I pull on my signature gray trench coat and grab my bag.

By the time I’ve gathered my things, Christian, Marty, and James are standing on the curb talking to the bouncer, Rick.

“Cheer! Leaving so soon?” Rick greets me with a fist bump, and I can’t help but smile.

“Yup,” I reply, popping the P. “~Someone~ just fired me.”

“What?” Rick looks over at Marty angrily. “She just got evicted, and now you’re basically throwing her out on the streets.”

I wince at the word evicted. It was bad enough needing Rick, Marty, and James to rescue me, but it was something I didn’t want Christian to know.

Especially after the whole wine fiasco on our date.

I get evicted because I can’t afford rent, and Christian drinks wine that costs a hundred thousand dollars; spot the fucking difference.

“It was my decision,” Christian says sternly to Rick, taking the brunt of his glare. “Francesca will be taken care of. She should never have been evicted. I will ensure her security.”

As he speaks, a limo pulls up to the curb. A man in a suit immediately rounds the vehicle to stand in front of Christian with the door opened toward us.

Christian sends Marty and James on without us and turns to face me with a serious expression.

“Why do I get the feeling you knew I was evicted?”

“I found out this afternoon. My assistant was sending gifts, but they weren’t making it to you. The building supervisor of your old apartment filled in the blanks.”

“Gifts?”

“Flowers, chocolate, candy, clothes. Basically, anything I could think of to apologize for how our date ended.”

I blush at the thought, knowing full well it was entirely my fault our date ended badly.

“Francesca, this is Toby, my driver and bodyguard. Toby, this is Francesca Barton.”

“We’ve met, Christian,” I say with an eye roll before extending my hand toward Toby. “You may not remember, but I certainly remember the ride home from the airport.”

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to see you, Miss Barton.” He shakes my hand and smiles.

“Please, Frankie is fine.”

“I’d like you to go with Toby,” Christian says, gesturing to the open limo door.

“And why would I do that when this is my apartment block?”

“Francesca.”

“Don’t, Christian. I don’t like being told what to do. You can’t just swoop in here with your fancy dates, extravagant gifts, and charming personality and assume I’m just going to cave.

“Also, I’m mad at you! You just got me fired.”

“I said nothing about you being fired, you made that assumption.”

“Again, what else is there to do at a strip club, Christian? I’m a stripper, and I’m good at it!”

Christian pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Please get in the car, Francesca.”

“I live here,” I say defiantly, laughing to myself when my heel hits the sidewalk, and I realize I just stamped my foot.

“Just shy of eight months,” Christian says, and I look at him confused.

“That’s how long you’ve been on my mind. I want you, Francesca Barton. I’m not afraid to say what I want, and I ~always~ get what I want.”

We stand, staring at each other in silence for almost a minute.

“Christian—”

“Francesca, please, get in the car. I’m only asking for one night. If after tonight you still want me out of your life, I’ll go.

“I’ll sell the club, you can keep dancing, and you’ll never have to see me again. Please, just get in the car.”

I let out a sigh, turning to Toby. He’s looking straight ahead, putting on a show of not listening. Without uttering a single word, I slide into the limo.

~Just one night. I can give him that much.~