The whistles and cheers rise as I strut across the stage, heels clicking like a countdown. I wrap a leg around the pole, arch my back, and let my hair fall as the crowd eats it up. Their attention isn’t power, it’s currency. And tonight? I’m rich.
Hands grip drinks tighter. Eyes widen. Jaws slacken.
And I smile.
Not for them, but for me.
There’s something wickedly intoxicating about being the one in control. These men come here with fat wallets and fantasies,and I turn their hunger into dollar signs. I make them feel things they’ll never touch. That’s the trick. That’s the power.
My fingers trail down my thigh, slow and deliberate, as I bend toward the edge of the stage. A man leans forward, jaw hanging like he’s never seen a woman before. I wink. He tosses a bill. Another follows. And another.
I keep dancing because this is my stage, my body, my rules.
The chair routine hits, and I slide into it like liquid sex, rolling my hips in a rhythm I know drives them crazy. There’s no shame here. Only sweat, seduction, and sweet satisfaction.
Then, just before the music fades and I prepare for my final pose, I hear it.
One word.
Soft, stunned, and completely out of place.
“Nova?”
I freeze.
It’s quiet, barely audible above the low rumble of the crowd. But it cuts through the music like a gunshot.
No one here knows my real name.
No one’s supposed to.
My head snaps toward the voice before I can stop myself. My heart drops. Knees wobble. The confidence I wore like armor suddenly cracks.
And there he is.
Finlay. Fucking. Reed.
Sitting near the back of the room, his body draped in arrogant confidence and a dark fitted shirt that hugs muscles that weren’t there back in high school. His jaw tighter. Shoulders broader. But those stormy gray eyes that are locked on me are exactly the same.
So is the smirk. That same cocky smirk curling his mouth. He looks expensive and smug and just as irritating as I remember.
I haven’t seen him in years, and I already want to make him choke on that smug little smirk. He thought rejecting him in high school made me a cold bitch. Maybe I am. But at least I never begged for his attention like the rest of them.
So I roll my hips one last time. Slow, controlled, powerful. I drag my fingers down my body like I’m sculpting something divine, then throw a wink straight at him. Let him look. Let him want. Let him realize I’ve turned into the kind of woman he’ll never be able to handle.
The lights go down. Applause rises. My heels click against the stage as I strut toward the exit without a single glance back.
He said my name like it still meant something.
Too bad for him,Luxdoesn’t answer to anyone.
CHAPTER 2
FINLAY
Nova Wilde.
Holy hell.
