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“Read the note, Brinlee,” Kyrian growls.
“What’s going on here?” My boss is getting pissed. “Someone call the bouncers in here! Where are the idiots?”
Because he isn’t sure he can take on two huge alphas and an angry beta, I guess. Because he’s a coward.
So we’re all standing here, my boss panting, spit flecking his lips, and my pack—my not pack, my whatever—waiting, vibrating with tension, for me to find the damn note, while the men at the back have stopped leering and now look annoyed.
Fuck them, too.
If Archer wants me to read his love note, then I’ll read it. Anything to put off going to my doom. My boss is pissed to hell and back anyway. My job is either written off, or he’ll kick my guys out and send me off to the leering assholes anyway, so what do I have to lose?
Better not think about it too hard.
“It’s in the dressing room.” I start toward it, Archer, Kyrian, and Roman following me.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” My boss is making a scene and doesn’t give a shit. He has to be really furious. “I told you to leave the club!”
“Not without her,” Kyrian says from behind me as I make a beeline for the dressing room. “So fuck off.”
A laugh is bubbling up my throat. This is hilarious—ridiculous—a disaster. I’m laughing not to cry. What do they think they’re doing?
And is it worse than going for that private lap dance?
What makes you think you can afford to choose?
I stumble over my heels as I rush to open the dressing room door, Roman’s hand on my elbow steadying me. I’m sobbing for breath by now, or just, you know, just sobbing. I don’t know what I’m doing—what am I doing?
Grabbing my purse, I rummage inside for my wallet.
“The love note, the love note,” I mutter under my breath, and I hear Roman laughing softly behind me. “What’s so funny?” Grabbing my wallet, I spin about to face them. “This isn’t funny. I need this job, I need the money.”
“You don’t need to get raped in a back room,” Roman says, his laughter turning to steel in his voice. “That’s not what you need, Brinlee.”
Ice runs down my spine. “He wouldn’t let them,” I breathe.
“Your boss?” Archer leans against the doorframe. “He’s done it to others. Don’t you talk to the other dancers?”
I gasp. “They’d have told me, warned me…” And then River’s words return once more, taking on a different meaning. “Oh, no…”
Kyrian mutters a curse.
“The note,” Archer barks, and on autopilot now, I open my wallet and unfold the bills Archer gave me the first night. Indeed, there’s a small note folded inside. I straighten it.
The words blur in my eyes.
“Brinlee?” Roman takes a step toward me. Stops. “Are you okay?”
I nod. Am I? The note reads, ‘Cage dancer job offer. I’ll double whatever he’s paying you.’
Is he serious?
Are they serious?
“You can’t…” I have to stop and swallow hard, my throat dry. “Double the pay? It’s too much.”
“I know what he pays you,” Archer says. “I can afford it.”
“Take the offer, Brin.” Kyrian’s voice is a soft growl. “Come with us.”
