Decided to post earlier today so I didn't keep you guys waiting ;)
Lots of guesses that our MobWard isn't going to be able to stay away from his showgirl... I think those guesses are on to something! But she's not going to be so easy to win over. So what lengths will he go to for her?
Enjoy chapter 4!
BPOV
My fake lashes feel heavy on my lids as I blink, checking the glue. Satisfied with the adhesive, I reach for my long-lasting ruby red lipstick and carefully spread it across my lips, pushing them together to even them out. It's my second night performing at La Bellissima, and although my nerves have diminished, I'm jittery, like I've had one too many cups of coffee.
My debut in the show was okay. Not spectacular, not a disaster, thank God. I was late for a couple of counts, made one entrance at the last second, and my lashes started to unglue during the final number, but nothing like the horrendous mess of my first rehearsal.
In the mirror next to mine, Jessica tugs on her tits inside the gold bejeweled bra top she wears, trying to get them to sit just right.
"Bella, did you hear?" She asks when she catches me staring at her cleavage, which is situated so that the tiniest costume malfunction will result in a nip slip.
"Hear what?" I turn back to my dressing station and fluff my teased hair.
"Mr. Cullen is coming tonight," she whispers so loudly that the girls on the other side of her glance over, mouths agape before grinning at each other in excitement.
I lift my hairspray and press the nozzle, using the sound of the aerosol can as an excuse not to speak until I can shove away my embarrassment over the man and his intimate knowledge of my naked breasts. "Does he come to the show a lot?"
"He never comes to the show. I've been dancing here for three years, and he has never been in that audience." Jessica steals my spray and covers her head in a plume of product. "Some girls have a bet to see if anyone can catch his eye- if you know what I mean." She winks, her extra-long lashes making her look like a cartoon character.
"You mean like a sugar daddy thing?" The words taste bitter as I picture the powerful emerald-eyed man doting over another dancer, buying her expensive jewelry, and taking her to the penthouse where I've learned he lives.
Jessica laughs because I must look like I drank lemon juice. "Yeah, Bella. Like a sugar daddy. Although, I think they're crazy. Everyone knows he's involved with Irina Denali. The model turned gold digger. I bet she'll be here with him tonight."
"Oh, right." I adjust my fishnet tights so the top isn't visible over the French-cut sequined briefs of my costume. I shouldn't be surprised that a man like Mr. Cullen has a woman in his life, but disappointment has my brows creased and my head down.
An announcement comes over the speaker in the dressing room, telling us we have five minutes until places. I warmed up before putting on my costume, but stretching my legs and feet for a few more minutes doesn't seem like a bad idea.
"I'm heading up," I tell Jessica. She waves me off because she's busy recapping the Mr. Cullen sugar daddy bet to the girls who were eavesdropping on our conversation.
In the wings, I work through my nerves by stretching and grounding myself in the feel of the tightness leaving my muscles. I roll through my feet, happy that the stiffness from my first day of rehearsal has lessened. Soon, girls in gold costumes with white feathered angel wings surround me as we listen to the MC announce the introduction for the show. The lights dim, the curtain rises, and I smile wide enough that my cheeks hurt as I take my place on stage.
In the opening number, we dance behind a singer who reminds me of Dean Martin as he croons to the audience. The bright lights prevent me from seeing the crowd, but the thought of Mr. Cullen out there watching has my heart beating double time and my breath catching between movements.
I wonder if his eyes are on me.
The music stops, and I hold my final position, heel popped, hands over my head, and chest out. We're going for sultry, seductive. I have no idea if I'm pulling it off, but I send the crowd a coy smile, trying to sell the sexy act.
Does Mr. Cullen buy it?
Why the hell do I care?
Once the lights dim, I rush off stage with the other dancers. A few girls strip down to almost nothing in the wings, making a quick change for the following number. I'm not on again for a few songs, so I have time to return to the dressing room and change into my next costume. A red glittery body suit that hugs my curves and pushes my tits to my chin.
"Oh, my God! Did you see him?" Jessica fans herself with her hand, her neck flush from exertion and excitement. "I swear, Mr. Cullen is the most fuckable man I've ever laid eyes on."
The girls beside us hum in agreement as I unstrap my gold top and hang it on the rack behind me. "Where is he sitting?" I can't help but ask. Another peek at the man won't hurt.
"His table is on the mezzanine level, first row. His brother is with him."
I slip into my bodysuit, catching my lip between my teeth. "Is that woman you mentioned with him?" Not that it matters. At least, it shouldn't.
"Nope." Jessica pops the "P" with a grin before reapplying her cherry-colored lipstick.
Aiming for indifference, I nod and check my makeup in the mirror.
Because that man, gorgeous or not, he's my boss. He walked in on me half-naked while I made the worst impression possible. I need to stay away.
Easy enough, I convince myself as I head back to the stage. It's not like I'm going to run into Mr. Cullen regularly. Our interaction the other day was a fluke. His appearance at the show tonight is irregular. And despite Jessica's bet with the other girls over who can hook him, I have a feeling he's not interested. Why now, suddenly, would he want an affair with a showgirl?
The music changes to a sultry, jazzy number, and I wait on the edge of the wings for my cue. Angela's entrance is first. Mr. Black chose dancers with a ballet background for this one. There are technical aspects with more complex turns and leg extensions that we have to hold for four counts at a time. Despite my efforts to drop all thoughts of the handsome casino owner from my mind, my eyes flick to the middle of the mezzanine level, seeking him out.
While holding my first oversplit, with my leg stretched high, the lights dim into a soft red glow, and the audience comes into view.
I gasp as I plant both feet on the floor, thankful the choreography has me turning to face upstage. Except, as I swing my hips to the electric pulse of the bass, I swear I can feel Mr. Cullen's stare on me.
My hands run into my hair as my back arches, and I peek over my shoulder into the crowd, right into his jewel-toned gaze. His eyes burn with intensity as they lock in on my every movement. I slide right, he follows, I turn left, and he's right there with me.
He's sipping from a whiskey tumbler, leaning against his booth, one arm stretched along the back of the seat. In a tailored black suit and that hair that screams fuck me, he's a picture of elegance and danger. A man who will give you the thrill of a lifetime but leave you brokenhearted.
That's not the kind of man I need.
By the time the song ends, I'm sure my best plan is to forget my run-in with Edward Cullen. I'll spend my stint at La Bellissima doing what I was hired to do, dance. Distractions in the form of unfairly attractive men will have to take a back seat to work and figuring out where my fractured career goes from here.
I ignore the buzz of the dressing room as the other girls make plans for after the show that involve capturing the attention of the enigmatic man in the audience. Three more numbers plus the finale, and I can wipe the heavy makeup from my face and go home to collapse in bed. I'm exhausted after working a six-hour shift at Carmen's, a rehearsal, and performing.
Mr. Cullen's gaze borders on uncomfortable by the last number. It's as if he's come to the show to watch me- as if the other dancers and acts on the stage don't interest him. Unless I'm just so narcissistic, I imagined his eyes only on me. When Jessica flies by in a shimmy, I dare to look toward Mr. Cullen's table to find him and his brother slipping from the booth, leaving before the show ends.
I'm disappointed. I'm relieved.
The final notes of music finish and the crowd applauds, some jumping to their feet in a standing ovation. But my attention is on the back of the theater where two men push through the doors, exiting into the casino.
So much for the girls finding a sugar daddy in the Cullen brothers; I huff out a laugh. Those two weren't even impressed enough to give us applause.
Our curtain call is quick, and soon I'm herded downstairs with a group of sweaty dancers who strip while they enter the dressing room.
"Who do you think he'll choose?" The blond on the other side of Jessica asks, wide-eyed with excitement.
"No way it's not Rachel." Jessica nods across the room at the tall, busty brunette putting more makeup on instead of removing it. "His eyes were all over her in the second to last number."
I don't mention that I stand directly behind Rachel in that number.
I remind myself that I don't want Mr. Cullen's attention. Rachel can have him.
"I saw him watching Bella during the jazz piece," Angela interjects as she passes by to hang her costumes.
Jessica's head whips around, sending her hair flying. She appraises me with her lips pursed. "Okay, I could see that. Mr. Cullen and Bella."
"Um, no, you could not," I scoff.
"You don't think he's handsome?" Angela props a hand on her hip, raising her brows skeptically.
Packing away my makeup, I refuse to look at any of the girls who have turned their attention to me. "I'm just not interested in starting something right now."
"Well, you're crazy." Jessica rolls her eyes, adjusting the tube top she's changed into. "Most girls would kill for attention from a man like that."
I shrug and slip my duffle bag over my shoulder before zipping my hoodie. "I guess I'm not most girls."
"Well, whatever. If that man approached me, I'd jump on it in a heartbeat," Angela laughs. "And by jump on it, I mean his dick. I'd jump on his dick."
I shake my head but smile at the laughter erupting as she saunters back to her mirror.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow," I tell them all with a wave.
Air conditioning vents in the employee hallways blast all day, giving the place an arctic feel. I tug my plush gray hoodie closer around my torso, vowing to hit up Walmart for more sets of sweats once I get paid. I don't have time to do laundry more than once a week.
The scent of fresh garlic and Italian spices from La Bellissima's five-star Sicilian-inspired restaurant filters through the air, making my stomach grumble. I'm suddenly famished and realize I haven't eaten more than a granola bar since I left Carmen's. I check my phone for the time. It's a little past ten, not so late that I can't stop for food, but too late to find a particularly healthy option on the way home. I sigh. A hamburger it is.
I shiver at the change in temperature when I push through the exit doors to the employee parking structure. It's nearly eighty degrees, a vast improvement from the frigid temperature inside. My fingers reach up to unzip my hoodie, but the zipper catches halfway. Cursing, I look down to untangle a caught thread, no longer paying attention to the direction I'm walking.
"You put on a good show."
My steps falter at the smooth, honey-laced voice that greets me as I approach my rusted truck. I'm stuck staring down at my exposed torso, regretting wearing nothing but a sports bra as a shirt.
"You didn't stay until the end." I don't mean to sound accusatory, but when my eyes meet Mr. Cullen's, he knocks me off guard. I'm unsure of myself- unsure of him.
His lips tick at the side, and he chuckles. "You were watching?"
"It's hard to miss two men leaving in the middle of the finale."
He hums, appraising me. I take the chance to look him over, appraising the way he leans against the driver's side of my car, arms crossed, suit jacket discarded, tie loosened.
I want to take him home.
I want to run away and never look back.
"My brother and I had business to check on." He's smooth, and I'm sure he has an answer for everything. "Plus, there's a certain dancer I wanted to catch on her way out."
I roll my lip between my teeth and glance away. I don't know how to respond to that.
He stands straight, hands sliding into his pockets as he approaches me. "Have you eaten dinner? You must be hungry after the show you put on."
"I was going to pick something up on the way home." I look over his shoulder toward my truck in longing. The closer he gets, the further my nerves climb until I can smell the spice and musk of his cologne, and my stomach swoops with anticipation.
"You can eat here." He nods toward the doors that will lead me back into his casino.
"I'm not dressed for dinner here." I gesture at my sweats and sports bra. His eyes dip and linger on my exposed abdomen. He licks his lips as he fixates on the piercing that dangles from my navel, a gift to myself after my unplanned retirement from ballet. Something I always wanted, but that the strict classical world wouldn't allow.
"I have ways around the dress codes," he promises.
My stomach grumbles as I remember the mouthwatering scents floating through the back hallways from one of his restaurants. I've never eaten at any La Bellissima restaurant before, but I've heard that each is top-notch. Not to be missed by anyone traveling through the city.
"Umm…" I stall, my hunger warring with my instincts. I know I should say no, stop at In-N-Out on the way home, leave temptation in the form of dinner with a handsome man for another girl, but maybe just this once…
The door to the casino slams open, and a few of the other dancers filter out, laughing about Mr. Black and his exuberance during the afternoon rehearsal.
My eyes snap from them to Mr. Cullen's, finding him watching me in a way that sends goosebumps across my flesh.
"Maybe another time," I say, coming to my senses. "Thank you for the offer." Digging in my bag for my keys, I step to the side, determined to leave him and the night behind me.
"Bella." My name rolls off his tongue so sweet that my eyes slip closed, reveling in the sound. His fingers take hold of my elbow, stopping me from unlocking the door. "Don't run from me."
My hand trembles as I push the key into the lock, breaking free from his hold. "Don't make me," I mutter, then swing the door open and climb in.
"I'll see you tomorrow." His words reach me right before I slam the door shut. It's a promise and a threat. The way he watches me, with a smirk that says, 'You can run, but I'll chase,' has me shifting into gear and refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
In the rearview mirror, I watch him turn toward the casino, nodding at the other girls in passing but not stopping to speak to them.
I can't help the thrill that shoots through me.
Maybe I would have won Jessica's bet. Too bad it's not a bet that I'm willing to take.
A/N: Oh, Bella, what will it take for this man to break down your walls?
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