Page 49 of For Your Eyes Only
I’m shaking all over, but my mind isn’t on the men throwing punches. All I can see is Trip staring at me with a mixture of confusion and fury in his hazel-green eyes. My stomach is in knots, and I want to get out of this fucking truck and get back in there and explain to him.
Only I don’t know where to begin explaining all of this.
“I need to go back!”
Bianca only laughs. “You’ll be lucky if you ever go back to the Rhino. That performance literally brought the house down.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” My voice is defeated as I look out the window at the streetlights illuminating the dark night, as we speed away.
Everything was going so well. Franco told us he’d doubled security, just in case the guy who grabbed me tried to do it again. Bianca said it was also because the livestream had been so successful, we had a lot of new customers at the club.
A mixture of excitement and jealousy twisted in my stomach when I peeked out and saw Trip in the audience. Then Bianca told me Franco asked him to come since he was one of the few people who had been on-site the last time I’d danced. He knew what my attacker looked like and could help spot him.
I felt a little better, and when it was time to do the new dance, I wanted it to be like before. I closed my eyes and imagined all my moves were between the two of us, and it was only him and me—except this time, I wasn’t working off my imagination. This time I had actual memories of his lips against mine, his hands on my body.
Tonight, I’d danced with authenticity… and it blew up like Mount Vesuvius. Then Trip saw it was me. My chin drops, and I shiver at the memory of his anger and confusion.
“You’re right,” Bianca fusses as we pull into the parking garage at the apartment building. “Everything was going great until that guy grabbed your foot again. Asshole. He ruined everything.”
It’s true. I might have actually gotten away with keeping it all a secret… Until tomorrow, when I’d planned to come clean. Pulling out my phone, my fingers tremble as I type a short text.We need to talk.
I’ve just hit send when the doors open, and DJ the bouncer reaches for me. “Franco said to be sure you both get inside the condo safely.”
My phone is clutched in my hand, and I’m waiting for any acknowledgment or text reply from Trip. Nothing comes.
I go to my bathroom, wash my face, shower and scrub the shimmer off my body. Closing my eyes under the warm spray, I allow hot tears to fall. I can still feel the hands grabbing at my feet, and fear shudders in my chest.
Leaning down, I use the loofah to try and scrub the sensation off my feet. This entire situation has gotten completely out of control, and I can’t bear the thought of losing the one good thing to happen here. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
When I danced for Trip, I communicated all my feelings for him through my movements. My heart was so full, and I pictured holding him, his hands on my body. I imagined us together, skin against skin, moving like waves through the thrusts and the swirls.
Bianca helped me design my costume to match my brand-new Valentino Mary Janes, and it all came together like fire. My hair was big Barbie waves, and my makeup was sixties chic. It was one of my favorite creations, a look I’ll copy again, except…
“He stole my shoe!” I yelp in the shower.
We fucking rushed out of the Rhino, I didn’t get a single tip, I possibly lost my chance with Trip, and that motherfucker stole my shoe!
“Gia? You okay?” Bianca’s voice echoes in the bathroom.
Slamming off the water, I grab a thick towel off the hook. “He stole my Valentino!”
“Oh.” She nods, slanting her mouth to the side. “He’s probably making it his trophy or whatever those assholes do with the stuff they steal.”
“That was a twelve-hundred-dollar pair of shoes.” I wrap the towel around my body, storming out of the shower to face her. “Nobody’s going to sell me one shoe to replace it!”
Bianca presses her lips together, blinking a few times. “That’s all you got out of what happened tonight?”
My fists are on my hips. “No, but it’s the icing on the shitty cake.”
Wrapping her arm around my shoulders, she leads me into the bedroom. “I get that it’s a violation, but you made three times that in tips on the soft launch. I think you’re going to be able to replace the shoe.”
Growling, I take a turban off my dresser. “I guess.”
I check my phone again, but still no reply. Sadness pushes harder against my chest as I lean forward to wrap my curly hair so it’ll dry while I sleep. I put the towel on my chair and step into my underwear, pulling a tank top over my head.
“Do you think you can sleep?” Bianca sits beside me on the bed. “I was going to meet up with Franco for drinks. You could come with me?”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.” My voice is quiet.