Page 9 of While She Sleeps

“That’s not my problem. You have a job to do.”

I turn in my seat and glare at him. “Not my job,” I remind him. “I don’t work at the club. I’m a thief, not a dancer. I don’t know what the fuck good you think me working here tonight is going to do.” I’ve never spoken to him like this, but it seems my sense of self-preservation is waning nowadays.

Anger fills his dark orbs, and I swallow heavily when he steps toward me. I slip out of the chair and put it between us, hoping it will do something to protect me from his advance, but I should know it won’t help from how red his face has turned.

Lucas shoves the chair out of the way, and I’m so startled by the sound it makes when it hits the ground that I forget to dodge him. His fingers wrap around my forearm a moment before he tugs me into his body. The scent of whiskey and cigars lingers on his breath, and I force myself not to wretch.

I try and fail to tug myself free, but his grip on me is so tight I’m sure it’ll leave marks. His free hand grasps my chin and forces my eyes up to meet his. “Listen here, Ember. You work for me. You do as I tell you, when I tell you, and you don’t fucking argue. You don’t have big brother around to protect youanymore, and you’d do well to remember who was there when you needed them.”

I swallow heavily, holding his eyes. I should bow to him. I owe him for saving us, and for allowing me time to heal and grieve after the accident. But I also can’t allow him to think he can walk all over me. It’s a dangerous precedent to set. “You’re hurting me,” I force out. “Wouldn’t want me bruised up for your clients on the floor.”

He stares down at me for another beat before releasing me so quickly that I stumble backward. “You owe me a debt, and I’ll request it be paid any fucking way I please. If I want you working here every night, you’ll do it. If I tell you to get down on your knees and open your pretty mouth for my clients, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. And if I tell you to bend over my desk and hold on, you’re going to do that too. Don’t think just because you’re a good thief that you’re not dispensable. Everyone in this life is, including a pretty little thing like you.”

Lucas doesn’t give me another glance before he storms out and slams the door behind him. It’s not until I’m certain he’s halfway to his office that I allow my knees to collapse beneath me and sobs to tear through my body.

How much longer can I do this?

How much longer can I pretend living is a better option than succumbing to the darkness in my own mind?

CHAPTER SIX

EMBER

It doesn’t take nearly as long to pull myself together as it would have a few months ago.

Once I’ve carefully applied enough makeup to cover the evidence of my meltdown and I’ve dressed in the shortest dress I own, I make my way out onto the floor. I’m still not sure what the hell Lucas expects me to do tonight because I have two left feet, and if he thinks I’m dancing, I’m pretty sure I’ll fall off the stage.

But it doesn’t take long before he finds me, the calm mask of a man who runs an empire snapped back into place.

“You’re working the VIP tables,” he tells me.

I nod. “What do I do?”

“Sit on their lap, play on their ego, allow them to touch whatever they want. I’m sure a girl like you knows how to use her looks to her advantage.”

I swallow heavily. I’ve been lucky in a lot of ways. The only sexual encounters I’ve had since we ran from the group home have been consensual and wanted, but he’s basically asking me to allow these men to do whatever they want to me.

“You’ll be fine. These guys pay a lot to be here, so make sure they get their money’s worth.”

Before I can ask exactly what he means by that, he turns on his heel and makes his way toward his office.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

I step toward the VIP area, testing the stilettos I found in the back of my closet. I don’t remember ever buying them, and I know for a fact I’ve never worn them because I would remember this pain, but they’ve finally come in handy.

It was probably something Sally, Travis’s ex, bought me, thinking she could make me girly like her. She didn’t stick around long, but the time she was around was painful, if for no other reason than the fact that she wanted to be my best friend, and I’ve always kind of been a lone wolf.

Apart from Travis.

I shake the thought of my brother before I can spiral and steel my spine as I approach the roped off area. The Velvet Room is one of the most premium strip clubs in Los Angeles, and the guest list on any given night would surprise most people.

Senators, celebrities, influencers, they all frequent this place, and I’ve never understood why that is. It’s nothing special, and it’s kind of filthy. But then again, I think you’d be hard pressed to find a strip club most people would consider clean.

The bouncer stationed at the edge of the VIP section takes his time looking me up and down, and I force myself not to snap at him despite the way my stomach churns at his perusal.

“Fresh blood,” he murmurs so quietly I wouldn’t have heard him if it weren’t for my ability to read lips.

A smile tips up the corners of my lips as I step past him. If there’s anything I’ve learned from being a thief, it’s that it doesn’t matter what’s going on inside, I can always perpetuate a mask that most people will struggle to see through.

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