The Gentlemen's Club

Chapter Seven

I couldn't turn around, not when I knew those eyes would be on me. His glare, it was always so sharp and painful, but still captivating at the same time.

    Where did he come from, I thought to myself. And why now? I was already nervous about going out there. A run-in with Elijah would only shake me to my core even more.

    "I don't run," I mumbled.

    "What did you say? Speak louder and turn to me when you're talking."

    His voice was so demanding even though he said it in a moderate tone. I tried to relax and turned around. There he was, tall and terrifying, looking down at me. It was a completely different look from our first encounter, where he looked at me with kindness. Now all I saw was a cold exterior

    Some people from the v.i.p. section wandered around us, staring, possibly gossiping and wondering what was happening. Elijah didn't pay any attention to them, though. Neither did I.

    "I said," in a much more firm tone, though not quite as strong as I would've preferred, "I don't run."

    He looked at me for a moment. "Don't lie," he said.

    "It's not a lie."

    "But you ran from New Orleans, didn't you?"

    New Orleans? I never once ran away, not even as a teenager.

    "You left your job to work for me," he continued. "Was it the drugs you were running from or something else?"

    Drugs? "How did you know..." my words trailed off. Flashbacks of unfortunate times and miserable memories tried to flood their way back into my mind, but I blocked them out.

    "I know everything about all of my employers, including you. And if you're worried about relapsing, I don't condone a drug den."

    "I'm not a drug addict," I shouted, then looked around. I didn't want to make a scene so I lowered my voice. "Yes, I had some issues in the past but I dealt with them. And for the record, I didn't leave my home because I was some kind of pill pusher."

    "Then why? Why come here?"

    As if I had a choice.

    I wanted to laugh. He can dig into someone's past but not understand why I came to work for him in the first place? "If you consider human trafficking running, then I suppose I did."

    He was silent again but seemed agitated by my words, making me quickly regretting them.

    I quickly shut my mouth and turned back to the door. "I have to go. It's time for me to perform."

    He didn't say anything to me after that. No threat or hurtful comment. I said nothing else either, partially because I was afraid, but also because I was hurt by his words.

    My history with drugs was brief but nearly left me at death's door. I was a stupid child that did stupid things.

    I walked out of the doors and onto my platform. I greeted the gentlemen with a nod and began my routine. Dancing in front of them like that felt revealing. I was exposed to strangers, like some kind of exhibit at a museum.

    I think only a part of me was excited. Maybe it was the fear and anticipation mixed that gave me a weird sense of confidence. I'm not really sure what it was.

    Afterward, I poured them some drinks. One of them held me by their side and we chatted, flirted and mingled. After about two hours of that, I was allowed a break.

    It felt weird how the atmosphere melted down my fear. You'd think the drinks were laced with Ketamine or something.

    I fixed parts of my makeup in the private lounge and drank a few sips of champagne. Maybe that was the real cure to my nerves.

    I only had one more session for the night, which meant that I had to go back out there, expose myself to strangers, let them touch me and laugh about it with them.

    Maybe the only atmosphere that's altered is the one in here. Or maybe I'm paranoid and delusional to think this was normal.

    I looked at the clock on the wall. It was time for my next shift.

~*~

    The sun on my face felt surprisingly good at 7 AM, considering there weren't any windows in the gentlemen's club downstairs. In fact, the whole place was illuminated by dimmed, soft color-changing chandelier lights. I guess that explains my willingness to unwind and get through my shift.

    I shifted around in my bed, stretching my limbs and finding myself more comfortable. I didn't have to work tonight but that didn't mean I was allowed to skip my morning workout in the gym, at least not according to Isabelle.

    Every morning, she'd drag me out of bed for a 2k run, even on my rest days. She must've gotten used to my complaining, or more likely she didn't care that my joints were aching because she still does it.

    Even though I've kind of gotten used to it, I still don't want to do it.

    Still, I got up from my comfort and took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the city. Even from high above where my room was, the skyscrapers looked like they'd stretch to the sun if they could.

    They did nothing to block from the scenery, though. This hotel sat at the perimeter of Central Park, which gave its guests one of New York's most striking views.

    After I finished getting ready, I left my room and headed for the elevator. The gym was located on the roof with a dome-like ceiling above it. It was extravagant just like everything in this hotel. No detail was left unnoticed.

    Hell, even the hallways made me feel like I was walking down a red carpet, which of course, made me feel extremely out of place.

    The elevator dinged and opened. "I'd expect nothing else from the Giordano family," I mumbled.

    "And what exactly is that," a voice asked.

    I looked up, startled to see someone this early. Thankfully, it wasn't who I thought it was, but nonetheless, still a handsome face and with a kinder smile. His hair was disheveled which was accompanied by an I hopped right out of bed look, and I felt immediately attracted to him.

    "I-nothing, sorry." I walked into the elevator and pressed the rooftop button.

    Even though he was behind me, I could feel his eyes on me. I almost wanted to turn around just to look at him again.

    "I'm sorry," he said with a soft chuckle, "But you've got me curious. What is it exactly that you expect from the Giordano's? Their good looks or their success?"

    Without turning around, I grinned and replied, "What makes you think it was between those two?"

    "What else is there?"

    I turned and, even in the spacious elevator, I felt crowded by his presence. He took up so much space with his height and sculpted frame."Their architecture, " I admitted. It's brilliant. It's hard to believe that I'm in a place so beautiful."

    "Not as beautiful as the things in it." He took a step closer, "Or the people." His eyes were glued to mine, and I felt suffocated in the tight space. "Who are you," he asked.

    The confidence began to drain from me. "No one you'd be interested in." the elevator dinged and opened again and I walked out. There's nothing quite like a fresh coat of shame to make you want to stay away from people, even the handsome ones.

~*~
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