Page 32 of Wrecked By a Devil

“Of course,figlio mio,” Leonardo nods, taking the final sip of his drink. “I’ll keep an eye out for any information that could be useful to you.”

“Thank you, Leonardo. We truly appreciate it.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Riley

Eden is supposed to be safe. That’s why I got the job here, that’s why I auditioned in the first place. Even the backstage area of Eden feels less like a strip club and more like a high-end green room in a fancy theater. But with Diana’s disappearance, I have to force myself to remember that I’m not safe here.

I know that Ezekiel and his brothers have nothing to do with the disappearances and for whatever reason, at least that feels comforting. I just chose to believe that they’ll find Diana and that she’s okay.

Earlier the detectives questioned the entire staff and a few of the dancers. Thankfully they didn’t want to talk to me. Considering how nervous I was, I’m not sure it would have done anyone any good.

I shake the thought out of my head, forcing a breath. I need to focus, tonight is my first official performance.

From across the lounge, , my eyes lock onto the main bar as I’m trying to calm down before going on stage. Cohen is leaning over the marble counter, his upper body angled toward Mia in a way that feels entirely too intrusive even for a night club. He is saying something to her, his lips curved into a smooth, practiced smile that makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

I watch as Mia laughs, her shoulder brushing against his arm as she leans into the conversation. She seems completely charmed by whatever line he’s feeding her. From the outside, it looks like they’re hitting it off effortlessly. But for some reason, watching the deliberate way his eyes track her movements, makes a heavy unease tighten in my gut.

I don’t like Cohen.

“Riley,” Jena’s voice snaps me from my thoughts and I turn to look at her. She has a big smile on her face. “It’s your turn.”

“Now?” I find it hard to move my feet and climb on stage. It suddenly became too real. “I don’t know if I can do this, Jena…”

“Of course you can,” she reassures me. “There is nothing more beautiful than embracing your sensuality and owning it in a way that no one can take it from you. And you, Riley, your body transforms into pure emotion when you dance.”

I nod, taking a deep breath and then walk out onto the stage.

The bass is loud, shaking the floor under my heels. The red and blue stage lights instantly blur the room into a hazy mix of smoke and shadows, making it hard to distinguish the faces of the men in front of me.

My body starts moving on instinct. Just as I did in practice, I wrap one hand around the cold, slick pole and drop into a low squat. The metal slides against my inner thigh as I trace the line of my hip downward.

Every inch of my skin becomes hypersensitive. The air in the club is warm and thick with the scent of expensive cologne and liquor, but when I pull the tie of my robe and let the silk slide off my shoulders, the sudden draft feels sharp.

I wait for the humiliation to choke me. I wait to feel small and embarrassed.

But none of those things happen. Instead, my shoulders straighten as my hips continue to move sensually to the beat. I reach up, my fingers catching the hem of my top. The fabric scrapes over my face and clears my hair as I throw it to the side.

Someone lets out a loud approval and I smirk.

After stepping out of the tiny skirt and kicking it aside, I find myself in nothing but a thin strip of lace at my hips. The airgrazing my exposed skin feels welcoming, like a caress rather than a walk of shame.

I wonder if he’s watching.

I look toward the side mirror, catching my own reflection through the neon glare. My chest rises and falls with heavy, even breaths. My body feels more alive than it ever has.

Jena was right.

In the heat of the moment, I grip the pole, arching my back until my hair brushes the stage floor, then pull myself up with the strength of my arms. Every movement is deliberate, heavy with the rhythm of the bass. For the first time, I’m deciding how to move and becoming one with my own body.

I slide down the metal again, dropping into the beat, entirely locked into the heat of my own skin.

I realize I’ve never felt more like the boss of my own life than as I do now, dancing naked in front of a room full of strangers. I almost wish it would last longer, but once the song ends, I receive a surprisingly loud applause.

Mia performs right after me and I stand on the side watching. She’s incredibly good at this. An overwhelming mix of feeling proud and completely captivated by my friend’s stage presence takes over me.

“You were so good!” I shout when she climbs off the stage and walks up to me. I pull her into a quick hug.