“I need a drink,” I say, leaning toward Josh and indicating I’m going to leave the dance floor.
“You stay, I’ll get it,” he tells me, and I consider his offer before nodding in agreement.
He walks toward the bar as I continue dancing. Isaac’s eyes pin me down and only move away at the last minute as Josh walks past him. Isaac turns and joins Josh at the bar. I have no idea what he says, but the next moment Josh has visibly paled and quickly glances back at me with fear before rushing through the crowd—away from me.
Fucking Isaac.
He turns and watches Josh leave, but I don’t, I can’t tear my eyes away from Isaac’s face. There’s a hardness in his eyes, an edge that’s aimed fully at the man who has danced with me all night. My breath stutters, and I momentarily lose control when he moves his gaze back to me. His features change, warmth fills his eyes along with recognition and something else, something animalistic.
One song finishes, and Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’ comes on, but it’s the slow, sexy remix. Isaac strides over, and with no words, pulls me flush into him. Every part of us is touching, and I can’t control myself. I sometimes forget he can dance. Aunt Sophie taught all three of her boys well.
My favourite dance style is Bachata Sensual. It’s a fusion dance based on the traditional bachata from the Caribbean. I’ve always loved the movement and intimacy. It’s a follow and lead dance, and there are no set steps. It’s all about feeling the dance and the man is always the master. It’s sexy and sensual. I’ve only ever danced it with Isaac.
Like no time has passed since we were last standing in this position, he leads my every movement, pulling my body so I’m rubbing up against him. His leg slips in between mine and our hips grind as they move from side to side. I almost groan. We might have clothes on, but there is no doubt in my mind that we’re having sex on the dance floor. Every second I watch him, his eyes are hooded and primal, and I want to rip our clothes away.
Isaac leans toward me like he’s going to touch our lips, but shoots straight past my face in rhythm to the music and catches my earlobe between his teeth, nipping then pulling back. I sink into the dance, the music infusing my body, mind, and soul. I forgot how enjoyable it was to dance with him, and I switch off completely handing myself over to Isaac once again.
He spins and guides me in our sexual dance, touching me at every given opportunity, even when the move doesn’t require it. It’s powerful, hot, and a little bit dark. It’s completely Isaac.
He turns my body away from him pulling my back flush to his chest and bends me over at the waist. I close my eyes for just a second, biting my lip as I feel his dick press into me. A shiver runs down my spine, and I smile. I still affect him. Tipping my chin up and opening my eyes, I notice the crowd circling us, but I just don’t care. Isaac squats behind me bouncing on his haunches, then pushes up to standing whilst running his hands up the insides of my legs. To everyone else, this is just part of our sexy dance. But, I’m the one who feels like she’s going to explode when, against the very tight material, I feel pressure from the tips of his thumbs as they run the length of my pussy, before he removes them, pulling me back up into his solid frame.
My stomach spins like a washing machine on the fastest cycle, and I feel cold when his arms move away from my waist. He quickly clasps my hand in his, and we’re dancing side by side. I’m glad he always adds a little latin and salsa as it gives me a second to compose myself. As the song starts coming to an end, he once again drags me into him. Running his palm down between my breasts, he slips lower reaching my navel, before ghosting his fingertips over my hips. As the music stops, his lips are hovering over mine, our eyes locked. The lull between songs gives him just enough time to crush me all over again.
“This is why you shouldn’t bother dancing with anyone else, your body only responds to my touch, Via,” he says, a smirk forming on his lips.
Before I can reply, the next song has started, and I’m looking at his back as he walks through the crowd.
Bastard.
ISAAC
“You want out?” my handler asks.
I look across at the older black woman noticing there’s new lines around her eyes. Just over four years ago I met Doreen. I’m pretty sure that’s not her real name, but it’s the only one I know. She organised my release from prison, and since then she’s given me my assignments and dealt with any issues. I like her, as much as I can anyone in this environment.
Nodding, I don’t offer her words.
“You have never been the talkative type,” she says, her lips in a thin line as usual.
“You wanna get some knitting out and form a trust circle?” I ask, and this time her lips twitch as she fights a smile.
“Kane—”
“Isaac,” I interrupt.
“Not to me.”
“Kane doesn’t remain,” I tell her.
“As far as this department is concerned, Kane still does.”
“What department?” I question, knowing full well that Black Ops doesn’t officially exist.
Her lips purse in time with her eyebrow arching. “Fair enough, Kane,” she says making her point clear. “I will see what I can do. In the meantime, you are to keep cover and live here with Shelly.”
I rub my head, not happy with those orders, but knowing I’ll have to bite my tongue for now.
“Remember, if a command comes in, I will expect you to fall in line and do your job.”
I don’t speak as she gets up from her chair and walks out of the coffee shop. I watch as five operatives slowly follow her out. Then I shake my head blowing out a frustrated breath.
“What reason did you give?” Shelly asks.
“I told her my aunt has cancer.”
“So, no mention of Liv?”
“No. You know that wouldn’t have been enough.”
Shelly drops her head back on the chair. “Yeah, I know.”
I study her. There’s an exhaustion that rolls off her these days. “You want out,” I state. She blinks as if clearing the haze, surprise passes across her face. “I might live with you, but don’t become complacent about who I am, Shelly. I can read people, you know that.”
“I know,” she sighs. “And yeah, I want out too,” she whispers.
With a groan, I force my body to relax. We both want out, but it’s a longshot that either of us will gain our freedom. Fuck knows what’s going to happen. I need to focus on what I can deal with and right now that’s Via working as a stripper. Uncle Dane hasn’t said anything to my parents, but that would be because he’s preoccupied with Aunt Libby’s illness. I need to try to help him, but his problem is one I can’t fix. I know how much he loves her and years out of the business or not, I can imagine how suffocated he’s feeling unable to do anything and wanting to kill everyone. If it was Via? Well, I can’t think of her like that, or I’d tear everything apart.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” Shelly questions, pulling herself up from the armchair.
“I’m going to ShadowBox, you coming?”
Her eyes light up. “Fuck, yeah.”
I chuckle. Shelly isn’t into women, at least I don’t think she is, but I know that being cooped up in this house so much makes us all feel like caged animals. It’s good to let off steam once in a while.
“You want out,” I say, and her step falters as she walks away. Slowly she turns to face me.
“Yeah, I already said that.”
“Tell me, do you like my brother?” It’s a question I’ve never asked her before, but I see the way they look and flirt with each other, it’s hard not to notice—trained to or not.
Shrugging, Shelly opens and closes her mouth four times. I count. “It’s not a difficult question, or at least it shouldn’t be,” I tell her.
“It’s so much more fucking complicated than you’re making it out to be though, right?” she replies, leaning back against the wall.
“No.”
“No?” she asks scep
tically.
“My parents know what we are, so does Toby.” I shrug.
“Yeah, but what about the rest of your family?”
“Easy, I publically dump you like a fucking dick and make them feel sorry for you. Then no one will care when you and Toby hook up.”
She shakes her head at me with a sad smile. “Worst idea ever, dickhead.”
“Okay, well you think of something better, and we’ll go with that,” I say with a wink, which I can see takes her aback as her eyes widen.
“Damn, Liv is a great influence on you,” she says softly. My eyes darken along with my mood, and Shelly holds up her hands. “Whoa, happy, it doesn’t hurt to smile.” She giggles to herself —fucking giggles—before walking off. My damn family has turned Shelly into Mrs. fucking Doubtfire.
LIV
Pasta is my saviour most days. I don’t cook much. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to or that I can’t. My lack of enthusiasm means I’ve never bothered to find out. But pasta I can cook, and being a dancer is the reason that particular food has always been my saviour. I shovel the last forkful into my mouth and groan with pleasure.
“You sound like a dirty bitch,” Helena offers unhelpfully. I roll my eyes and groan louder. She stares at me with disgust. “I have no idea why coffee-house guy is obsessed with you.”
I snort. “Well, he’s been quiet for a while now.”
Her head jerks back and she wipes her cheek with her finger. “Say it, don’t spray it.”
I laugh. “I didn’t spit at you, and when did you revert to a ten-year-old?” I raise my hands. “Oh right, I forgot, you’ve always been a ten-year-old.”
Helena screws her face up at me and rises to collect our plates, putting them into the dishwasher.
“You working tonight?” she asks, and I nod.
“You?”
“No. I’m not on until Saturday night.”
“I’m back on then, too. Can I have my tat done Sunday?” I question.
“Sure,” she says distractedly.
“You okay, Hel?” I ask.
“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”
“You can talk to me, you know?”
Her head turns so I have her eyes and her full attention. “Sorry Liv, I have to fit some time in to go back to see my grandparents as my nan isn’t well.”
I stand, and the chair scrapes back against the floor. “What’s wrong with her?”
“It’s flu, but you know, she’s old… it’s not great with her being frail...” her words trail off.
“You know if you need me to do anything…” I say pulling her into a hug.
“Thanks, Liv,” she murmurs into my shoulder as we hold onto each other with a death grip.
Feeling slightly melancholy, I pick one of my rarer song choices Des’ree’s ‘I’m Kissing You.’ I let the words and music flow into my mind until it’s all I know, all I hear. I can almost taste the emotion of the singer. At the end of my striptease, I have no idea what movements I made, but looking down I curse realising my underwear is still in place. I was supposed to remove the bra. As a cheer goes up around the room, I’m shocked to discover there’s zero disappointment at my covered breasts. I’m not sure whether I should take offence or regard it as a compliment. Smiling, I gracefully leave the stage and enter the dressing room.
“You killed it without getting your tits out. You’re too good for this place, Olivia,” another dancer, Marianne, tells me with a devilish smile as she heads out of the room to take the stage. It’s only the two of us tonight. Usually, there are at least six girls, but one has a sick kid, two of them coincidentally have the same bug, and Scatty Sarah is running late as usual. I push my iPod into the dock, and All That Remains’ ‘What If I Was Nothing’ fills the small room. Marianne is set to do a triple slot, so I have time to unwind. I slip on my button-up cotton nightshirt and pull off my underwear. I’ll have to choose another outfit for my next dance, but for right now, I’m going to sit still and close my eyes.
“I’m here, sorry!” Sarah shouts running in and out again and scaring me in the process. I roll my eyes but then lay back and close them again, smiling, knowing my break just lengthened.
The door clicks again, but I don’t open my eyes. “Forgot something already?” I ask her.
“Yes. I forgot to tell you something yesterday.” A deep, masculine voice wraps around my body and brushes against all my nerve endings. I jump up from my chair and twist until my wide eyes meet hooded ones.
“Isaac...” I breathe out.
“I need to remind you. You belong to me, you don’t get a choice in that, Via, you never did.”
I blink. The fingers of my right hand find their way to my left bicep, and I pinch the skin. Hard. “Fuck,” I cry out.
He smiles darkly and moves toward me.
I take a step back, then another. Isaac’s eyes bore into me. With his lids lowered, I watch as his stare meets mine from under those long lashes. He moves forward again, and I realise my back’s against the wall. One twitch of his lips, and I know he’s noticed there’s nowhere for me to run. My breathing becomes shallow as I struggle to find air. I’ve always wanted him, like this —just like this—and now he’s prowling forward. I’m suspended in a fight or flight situation, as my knees get weaker by the second. Isaac takes one more step until his body is against mine. I can’t look up to see what his eyes convey. He’s taller than me by several inches, and I purposely keep facing forward, but I’m firmly pressed into his chest. His fingers curl around my chin as he gently raises my head, taking away my choice. Our eyes lock again as he glides his thumb across my bottom lip from one side to the other.
“Isaac, we shouldn’t…” I start.
“Don’t,” he growls low. “You belong to me.”
My breathing hitches and he hears it. Smirking, Isaac leans down and kisses me with a passion I didn’t know could exist between two people. He bites my bottom lip, slipping his thumb into my mouth at the same time, I immediately curl my tongue around it and suck. His eyes blaze before he lowers his head nibbling down the side of my throat until he reaches the apex of my shoulder and neck. Continuing to kiss me there, he pulls his thumb from my mouth and places both his hands on my top, threading his fingers in between the buttons, he rips the front of my nightshirt open. Then his mouth leaves me cold as he steps back.
He stands still, staring at me. Something is working behind his usually stoic surface. It seems he makes up his mind before grinning and looking at me with fire in his eyes.
“Via, you’re mine. Don’t be confused by any other guys. There is only me for you. Understand, that’s me telling you. Now, I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll think you’re still a damn virgin.”
With those words, he steps forward again grabbing me under my arms. He lifts me into the air holding me above him with a smirk. Moving us toward the table, he lowers me slowly, so I slide down his front. Before my feet hit the floor, he gently pushes me back, so I’m sitting on the table naked apart from my ripped shirt hanging from my arms.
“I’m hungry, and the only meal I see on the table is you. Let’s see how sweet you taste. Open your fucking legs,” he demands.
The door rattles, and it’s like someone throws a thousand ice lollies at my head. I yank myself away from him cursing and pulling at my ripped shirt.
“Olivia!” Sarah shouts from the other side of the door.
“She’ll be there in a minute,” Isaac growls and instantly the noise stops.
He steps toward me as I grab my joggers and hoodie from my bag and hastily throw them on. “I can’t do this,” I tell him.
His eyes are pained, and his fists clench. “We will sort this shit out, Via.”
Pulling on my UGG boots and shoving everything else into my bag, I sigh feeling my stomach shrink and expand like it’s pulling in two different directions. I take a slow step, then another until I’m toe to toe with Isaac. Dropping my head back until I can see his now sad eyes, I find his h
and and give it a squeeze. “I loved you.” His fingers pulse at my words. “But you broke me.” I try to tug my hand from his, but he holds on tighter.
“I’ll fix what I broke, I swear. If it’s the last thing I do,” he tells me before letting my limp hand fall. I watch as he strides to the door and unlocks it. Brushing past Sarah, her mouth drops open at the sight of him, and I can’t blame her. There is a chill on my skin now. I think I might have just pierced Isaac’s tough exterior.
LIV
Four weeks have passed since Isaac’s visit to ShadowBox. I haven’t seen or heard from him, and he’s been noticeably absent from every family gathering. Toby says he’s had to go overseas for work. Who knows what’s true anymore. All I know is in the five weeks it’s been since I found out about my Aunt Libby having cancer, her health has rapidly declined.
Today is the worst I’ve seen her.
I pull in a shuddering breath and try to temper my emotions. The usually bright eyes and rosy face of my aunt are now sallow and dull. It’s painful to witness. What’s harder is watching her trying to smile through it. Her strength is within, and every second it shows how much of a fighter she is, but the chemo is leeching the life from her.
A quick glance across the room tells me what I already knew—Uncle Dane isn’t coping. His glazed, empty look is even sadder than my aunts. I can almost hear my heart breaking for the both of them. My cousins—Lottie, Max, and James—are downstairs and have been immovable since they found out their mum had stage four lung cancer. We know at this point the chemo is buying her time, but we’re all scared shitless it won’t be enough. The fact is, no matter how long she has, it will never be long enough.
“Stop thinking so hard,” Aunt Libby wheezes out to me.
Uncle Dane strides across the room placing her oxygen mask over her face and switching on the bottle, so it whirrs to life. “Stop trying to talk, Nova,” he whispers and strokes her cheek, letting his hand tenderly travel into her hair. She reaches up weakly and places her hand over his. A look of adoration passes between them, and my heart breaks a little more. I can feel the tears forming, and I bite down on my tongue, hard enough that the metallic taste of blood quickly floods my mouth. Wincing at the coppery twang and swallowing over and over, I know I’m desperately trying to keep my mind occupied from the reality of what’s in front of me. However, my mind isn’t ready to rest.
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