Page 21 of Damaged Prince
Me: Like paying $900 for a very long private dance
Sweetheart: What!!!!! Oh my god. That's not fair.
My stomach sinks. Shit, I didn’t even think about how she would feel about me being here.
Me: Shit, Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I won’t do it.
Sweetheart: The hell you won’t! You will go in there, watch that sinfully sexy man dance and tell me all about it tomorrow.
That makes me smile, relief washing over me.
Me: You got it, baby.
Sweetheart: So jealous right now. :’(
Me: Don’t be. Maybe one day, our man can give us both a personal show.
Our man? It feels so strange, yet so right to say that.
It feels kind of fast. Just this morning, Laney found out I have a past with Eli, and now she’s encouraging me to talk to him and see if it’s something we might be able to salvage.
She doesn’t know all the details, so she has no idea how hard the path in front of us might be. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about that man for over a year now.
I miss him. For a whole year before we stopped talking, Elijah was a daily part of my life. We’d text every day, whether it was about work, school, or just to talk.
It wasn’t until I met Laney that I stopped obsessively looking at my phone in hopes he’d text me.
I knew who he was at that point. I could have reached out. But I didn’t. He was going through a lot, and the realization of who I was came as a shock to him. It honestly came as a shock to me, too. Still, it didn’t change how I felt about him.
My feelings towards him were already too far gone at that point. It didn’t matter to me who he was. I got to know him on a deeper, personal level.
Pocketing my phone, I head back to the bar and hand the bartender the rest of the money.
“Just in time. You're up, big guy.” She winks. “Just head towards the back, give them these.” She hands me three pieces of paper that look like golden tickets. “They will explain the rules.”
“Thanks,” I grunt, taking the tickets from her.
As I head in the direction she pointed to, I start to grow more nervous by the second.
Fucking hell, Kai. Couldn’t you have just waited until he was done with his shift and talked to him face-to-face like a normal person?
The thing is, I’m not a normal guy. When I find someone I care about, I obsess. Is it healthy? Fuck no. But I don’t seem to care.
Getting a private dance from him is just too tempting to turn down.
When I get to the back, there’s a man waiting there. “Uh, is this the place for the private dances?” I ask.
He nods his head and holds out his hand. “Who are you here to see?”
“Ben.” I clear my throat, handing him the three tickets.
His brows raise. “You must really like him,” he comments. “To spend this much on him.”
Trust me, he has no idea. I say nothing, staring him down.
He rolls his eyes. “Rules are simple. You are to stay in that room, and the dancer is to remain on the other side ofthe mirror. You are able to hear one another; however, he is under no obligation to talk to you. If you pleasure yourself, clean up after yourself. We do have someone who comes in and sanitizes the room, but let’s make their job easier, yeah? And no objectifying comments. Be respectful.”
You know what, I don’t wanna know.
