Ruined in Vows (Marchetti Family #3)

5. Remi

Chapter 5

Remi

“ C rystal, you’re up. Room twelve,” Jason, the owner, shouts at me as I stuff money in my duffle. Slamming my locker closed, I look at him. He knows that I hate private dances. That I hate to be touched, even if he doesn’t know the reasoning behind it. As long as he’s earning his fifty-percent cut, he doesn’t care. It’s not like I can say no; it was a condition of working here, and there is no way he’ll give me special treatment. Even if I am his highest-earning girl.

I glance around the room and remind myself why the hell I am doing this, dancing in some shitty bar when it makes my skin crawl.

I’m all alone.

And I need the money since my mom left me alone with all the bills to pay. Plus, I now have school to pay for after taking a year off from my old one to work. I even got lucky, for once, and managed to win a scholarship at a prestigious school. And that shit does not come cheap. There is no way I’ll give it up after all the work I put in to win it, and if that means strutting myself on stage in front of a bunch of pervy old men or in the private rooms, then I’ll do it. I just need to keep my wits about me. Any sign that they are going to touch me or cause trouble, I’m out. No person would like a stranger touching them, but mine stems from something much more sinister. Men my mother would bring home with no regard for me. A couple of them touched me in ways they shouldn’t have. I was fortunate it didn’t go further, it could have been so much worse, but I still have the mental scars. No young girl should have to worry about grown men touching them inappropriately.

Sighing, I check my makeup in the mirror then stride out the door to the private rooms, all the while ignoring the bitchy stares from the other girls. They don’t like me, and they’ve made that clear. I am the youngest - not that they know how old I really am - and I make the most money. It’s made me a target for all their vile insults. I don’t care though. I’m here to earn money, to pay my bills, to be able to afford to eat. Nothing more, nothing less. If they have a problem with that, then that’s on them.

Stepping up outside the back entrance to room twelve, I take a breath. I can do this. Get in. Earn money. Get out. Pushing the door open, I stride in with a confidence I don’t feel, only to falter when I see the man waiting for me. My jaw slacks, eyes widen.

He is gorgeous. A god. The kind of man you see on the cover of GQ magazine with his dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He looks like a better-looking, leaner Chris Hemsworth.

I swallow. What the hell does he want with me? Why is a guy like him in a place like this?

Instead of speaking, or even moving, he sits there in his chair like a king as he runs a thumb across his bottom lip. I shuffle on my feet, nervously.

“Hey,” I greet but he doesn’t respond, just watches me. “What would you like?”

He cocks his head, his hungry eyes raking down my lingerie-covered body. I shiver under his intense gaze. I mean, I know I look hot. It’s how I got this job and why I am the top earner in this place. But with the way this man is staring at me, it makes me feel… powerful.

“Dance for me.” The rasp of his voice goes straight between my legs, making my pussy clench with need. Jesus. If I have that reaction from just the sound of him, I hate to think what he could do if he touched me.

Nodding, I move to the corner of the room where an iPod sits in a docking station. Settling on one of my favorites, Little Bird by Annie Lennox, I hit play and make my way to the raised platform with a pole in the middle. Never taking my eyes from him, I let the music consume me as I move around the pole, my hips swaying and moving sensually to the music. His gaze never leaves me as he leans back in his chair, relaxing like this is an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it is. I frown. This place doesn’t suit him.

When the song comes to an end, I drop to my knees, my back to him as I arch it up. My long, dark hair hits my feet as I lean back and get a look at him from this angle. His eyes narrow in on me, and I scramble to my feet when he pushes out of his chair and moves towards me.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I stutter as he steps up in front of me. Again, he doesn’t respond, he just reaches out and runs a finger down my cheek. I pull away. “No touching the girls,” I hiss, ignoring the shiver of arousal he elicits from me.

He smirks. “I think you like me touching you.”

I step away from him and scowl. “I don’t think so.” Spinning, I make my way to the dancer’s entrance and grab the handle to pull the door open, but I’m stopped in my tracks when he speaks again.

“What’s your name?”

I glance over my shoulder at him. His hands are shoved in his pants pockets, and I have never seen such a good-looking man in my whole life. He really is stunning. My eyes drop of their own accord as I take in his body. I can’t see him fully with his clothes on, but by the way his shirt clings to his abs, I can tell he is the whole package. Hot and a good body. The kind of man women would drop to their knees for without him even asking.

My eyes snap to his when he chuckles, and an arrogant grin curves his lips. I roll my eyes. “Crystal. The name’s Crystal.” With that, I step outside and slam the door behind me.

The next night goes pretty much the same way. I do my set, grab my money, and head backstage to get ready to leave, only to be stopped when Jason shouts out my name.

“Crystal, room twelve. You’re in there for an hour tonight,” he barks out, leaving no room for argument. Excitement and a sliver of fear courses through me at the thought of it being the same man from last night. And if it is, why is someone like him, someone who could surely have anyone he wants, paying to watch me dance for an hour?

Unless he wants something else. I shake my head to myself. No matter how hot I think he is, he is not having that. If the other girls want to earn extra by having sex with clients, that’s fine. But it’s not for me. I may be a stripper, but I am not selling my body. I draw the line at that.

Quickly checking that my makeup is in place, I straighten my spine and make my way to room twelve. I feel a sense of déjà vu as anticipation runs through me at who I might find behind the door. On the one hand, I hope it’s the guy from last night, but on the other, I hope it’s not. Because that means I’ve caught his attention. And I don’t need anyone’s attention on me right now.

Pushing through the door, I step through, only to stop when I find him sitting in the same position, thumb running across his bottom lip, eyes on me. I shudder at the intensity he exudes and almost run back the way I came. But then I remember I need this job and being in here for an hour means extra money.

“Hey,” I chirp confidently as I make my way inside the dimly lit room. When he doesn’t reply, I shake my head and move to the corner where the music sits. I go to hit play, guessing he wants the same as last night. But then he speaks.

“Don’t.” The command in his tone makes me pause.

Spinning, I face him, and suddenly I feel very insecure under his attention. I’m wearing lingerie, but I may as well be naked with the way his hungry eyes devour me.

“What do you want tonight?” I ask, confused.

He stares at me for a long beat before pushing out of his chair. My eyes widen as he stalks towards me, and panic takes hold. My eyes dart to the cameras in the room, praying that whoever is in security sees this and rescues me. “Stop,” I blurt. “You can’t touch me. It’s not allowed. I don’t do extra.”

He pauses a step away from me and frowns. His head cocks to the side as his eyes drill into me. Letting out an amused breath, he says. “I’m not going to hurt you, angel. I just don’t want you to dance tonight.”

It’s my turn to frown. “Then what do you want with me?”

He smirks. “I just want to talk.”

Shaking my head, I shuffle sideways towards the door. No man ever just wants to talk. There is always an ulterior motive, and I’m not about to wait around to find out what his is. No matter how gorgeous he is.

My eyes snap to his, and I stop when his deep drawl shatters the silence. “Please. I don’t beg Crystal, but I’m willing to beg you. Just give me an hour of your time. I paid good money for that hour, and I will pay more if that’s what it takes to get you to stay.” The plea in his tone gives me pause.

“Why do you want to talk to me? You don’t even know me,” I murmur.

He smiles. “Exactly. I want to get to know you.”

My brows furrow in confusion. It doesn’t make sense. “Look, you seem like a nice guy and not some weird, hot serial killer.” He smirks, no doubt at the fact I called him hot. “I just don’t understand why someone that looks like you,” I wave my hand at him as if to prove a point. “Is paying me to talk to them. You probably have women throwing themselves at you, so why are you here wasting money on me?”

He steps closer, his hand comes up and a finger runs down my cheek, making me flinch. He frowns, softly stroking me. I shiver at his touch, my body coming alive at just that small contact. He knows it, too, if his smug grin is anything to go by. “You’re right, women do throw themselves at me. But it’s you that I am captivated by. One look at you on that stage last night, and I knew I had to know you.”

I suck in a breath. What the hell? Is this for real? The words are out before I can stop myself. “Why me?”

He shrugs. “Why not you?”

I chew my bottom lip in contemplation, but I know my mind is made up. “Okay,” I blurt.

His lips curve into a triumphant smile. He steps away from me, his hand dropping from my cheek. The loss of contact makes me feel empty. With that thought, I know I should walk away, I don’t need any distractions. Especially not the male kind. Before I have the chance to change my mind, his hand connects with my lower back, and he pushes me towards the sofa that sits to the right of the stage.

Dropping down, I shift until I am against the arm, making sure to put space between us. He notices but doesn’t make any move to close the distance. Instead, he reaches to the ice bucket beside him and pulls out two bottles of water, handing one to me.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

Nodding, he leans back to get comfortable, those piercing eyes never leaving me. I twist the cap on the bottle and take a long sip, trying to wet my now dry throat. The atmosphere in here is almost stifling, suffocating me as I wait for him to speak.

“What’s your name?” he repeats his question from last night, but I won’t give in and tell him. Rule number one: don’t reveal your identity. I don’t need anyone finding out who I really am.

“Crystal.” I give him the same answer as before.

With a shake of his head, he smiles. “Your real name.”

“No,” I snap, my eyes narrowing in on him, daring him to argue.

“Fine, I will leave that question for now, Crystal, but mark my words, you will tell me. Now, how old are you?”

I scoff at his arrogance. “None of your damn business. What is this? An interrogation?”

He growls, making my spine stiffen. As if sensing that I’ve tensed, he softens his features. “I just want to know you.” His voice is soft, making me relax some.

“Twenty-one.” The lie rolls from my mouth easily.

He nods. “Now, what is a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I groan as I rub at my tired eyes. I’ve had this question asked a couple of times. People don’t seem to understand that when you’re desperate, you will do almost anything. “I need to eat, pay my bills. It pays better than working in a diner or a grocery store.”

He seems to mull over my words for a long beat before speaking again. “Did you not go to school?”

My heart pounds in my chest as my whole body turns rigid with his question. It’s a basic question, sure, but one I could easily trip up on if I don’t think carefully. “Of course, I did. I just didn’t have the money to go to college. That’s why I’m here. I applied for community college and figured I could make good money here while studying.”

His thumb runs across his full bottom lip, drawing my attention. I lick my lips at the thought of him kissing me, of those lips running over my body, and I shiver. “Mmm,” he hums, and I bring my eyes back to his. My cheeks heat as he smirks, and I drop my eyes to the couch. We sit in silence for a while which makes me anxious. Is this all he really wants? To talk? It seems weird to me, if so.

“What are you going to study at college?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

I shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe something like business or accounting.”

“But that’s not what you want to do, right?” Jesus this man is intuitive. “I mean it seems such a boring, mundane choice for a girl that could have anything she wants.”

I snort. Does he really believe that? I am not a girl that can have anything she wants. I’m a girl struggling to make ends meet. A girl that would love nothing more than to be a professional artist but knows, deep down, it’s a pipe dream, and I’m better off sticking with the boring and mundane, as he put it. “What’s your name? And what do you do?” I ask, ignoring what he said. The question reminds me that I know nothing about this man and that maybe I should have asked his name when he was pushing to know mine.

He smiles like he was waiting for me to ask. “I’m a teacher… amongst other things. And my name is Asher.”

The name somehow suits him, but as for being a teacher, I can’t see that. He’s just too hot. I briefly wonder what school he teaches at but push that aside for now. “Asher?” I repeat his name in a whisper, tasting it on my tongue.

His eyes squeeze shut, and I swear he groans a little before they snap open. “Now, what’s your name?”

I push off the couch with a smile, and stride to the door, pulling it open in the next second. “Crystal,” I say before I walk out.