1
BENOIT
SEDUCTION WAS A dangerous game. Show your hand too early and you risked giving the object of your desire the upper hand. Come off too strong and you might lose them altogether.
No way in hell was I allowing either of those two things to happen tonight. I had to play this just right, which was why I had been chosen for this particular mission.
After all, there wasn’t much I did better than seducing a man.
I slipped on the final piece of my ensemble, a heavy gold brocade robe that gleamed under the light of my dressing quarters. The back collar rose up above the top of my head, fanning out like I was a regal queen—which,accurate.
The latest burlesque dancer to take the stage walked back into the room wearing a sequined thong and sweat on his brow. He did a double take when he saw me and let out a curse in Arabic.
I smirked. “I know. But if you think the outside’s glorious, just wait until you get a glimpse of what’s underneath.”
He replied, but I could only translate enough to get the gist of what he said. Something along the lines of “sex walking,” which I took to mean as sex on legs—quite a compliment from a fellowperformer who could just as easily deem me as competition. Any other night he would’ve turned my head too. It was unfortunate I had to keep it on straight for now.Bothheads.
I stepped in front of the full-length mirror, checking to make sure I was a feast for the eyes. The gold-flecked gloss that adorned my lips had them plumped up and extra juicy, and the brown kohl liner around my eyes added to the dramatic flair. It wasn’t enough to get the attention of my target tonight—I had to make him desperate with need.
“Benoit.” The stage manager gestured for me to follow her, and off we went, through the curved hallway that ran the perimeter of the tallest building in Dubai. We were so high up, the only glimpses I caught of the outside were dark sky and moonlight.“Nervous?” she asked, giving me a smile over her shoulder as if that would help ease any butterflies.
It’d been years since I’d performed burlesque on a stage, something I did for fun in my twenties, but there was nothing but confidence radiating through my body. I’d always enjoyed putting on a show, having all eyes on me. What was there to be nervous about?
The way she was watching me, waiting for an answer, had me smiling back at her and lying through my teeth. “Oui,” I said.
She stopped in front of the backstage door and pulled it open for me. “It’ll pass,” she said, and inclined her head for me to go inside. It was pitch black except for a lit pathway along the floor that I followed carefully, not wanting to catch my four-inch heels on anything hiding in the dark.
I took my cue, center stage, back to the audience—can’t give too much away—then waited for the music to begin.
The slow, sultry rhythm started, and as the beat of the drum hit, a spotlight lit me up like an exquisite jewel. A priceless gem that none of the men in the audience tonight could resist—which was the plan, of course.
I was there to garner attention. To lure in hungry eyes. I was the bait, and right now, I was up here setting the trap—a delicious honey trap that was going to be sticky once my target was secured, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
I’d been in tricky situations before. This one would be no different.
I glanced over my shoulder, searching the crowd, then began to seduce the audience. I swayed my hips to the provocative music and slinked across the stage, the cape swirling around my bare legs as I flirted my way through my routine.
A wink here, a smile there, as one glove, then two, was removed. I tossed them out to the crowd, letting them fall where they may, then continued to peruse the greedy onlookers for the man I was really there for.
He wouldn’t be up front, not a man like him. So I needed to be looking toward the back. He wanted eyes on his performers—after all, this was his establishment—so he’d be sure to stay away from prying eyes. Stay in the shadows. That was where he did his best work. But that wasn’t going to do tonight. I needed to draw him out, and as I moved up to the center of the stage again, my eyes caught on a tall figure in the back.
Dimitri Stavros.
His name alone was enough to make most men run in the opposite direction. But my goal tonight was to capture and keep his attention, and to do that, I needed to get much closer than this.
With my target in sight, I reached for the gold clasp of my robe and unfastened it, and as the heavy garment cascaded to the floor like a rippling waterfall, I was left in the high, fanned collar, a black, gem-covered corset laced at my trim waist, and a matching G-string that showed off my spectacular ass.
My heels showcased my long legs in ways that would make any supermodel jealous, and what I could do in them madeeverybody jealous.
It was a lethal combination, which worked well for this particular man, since that’s what he was, and when I executed a perfect flip off the stage and landed square on said heels, my eyes collided with his.
Gotcha.
Not about to roll over and make this easy for him, I started flirting my way through the crowd—fingers through hair, coy smiles offering more than I was giving, whispers of sweet nothings as patrons tried to get friendly and I flitted just out of reach.
It was all about the tease, and I was the master of that. The social chameleon who could slide into any scenario and charm anyone, and who couldespeciallyfit into this moment.
My eyes tracked back to the man in all black—the one moving when I did to make sure he always had a clear line of sight on me.
