Better to Eat You

by Savannah Skye

  But, damn it, it didn’t seem like we were going to find her tonight.

  At that moment, the lights went dim as dark, sultry music poured from the speakers. I raised my head, frowning, as I tried to place it. But I’d never heard this song before. The violins scraped across my skin and the piano tickled its way up my spine. A low female voice singing in husky French started just as she appeared.

  Slowly I put down the iPad, as my chair hit the ground with a thud.

  All I could do was stare as the world vanished around the girl dancing across the stage.

  She should’ve looked like nothing at all. She wasn’t wearing a thong or a tiny bra like the other girls. Instead, she wore second-skin leggings and a plain, white t-shirt knotted at the waist. Instead of platform heels, she wore ballet slippers with black legwarmers that clung to her trim calves. Her lithe, curvy figure, was almost completely covered but for a two-inch patch of skin around her belly button that my tongue itched to lick. Her long, red curls caught on her full breasts as she moved and I was entranced. Jessica Rabbit had nothing on her.

  Suddenly she flashed a smile suggesting secrets and sin, and my heart leapt.

  Her hips dipped low as she swung herself over and around the gold pole in the center of the stage. As she spun around it, the look on her face said she knew she was killing it.

  Our eyes met for a brief moment and desire pulsed low in my gut. Her body moved like wind and fire. I’d never seen anything like it.

  She has to be professionally trained.

  It was like she was telling the music what to do, not the other way around. I traced my eyes over her, watching her muscles move under her simple black leggings. Flexing, stretching, and expanding. My mouth went dry.

  She was like the embodiment of rhythm, passion, and mystery all come to life. Her world was one I didn’t want to leave, filled with that music, and something I’d never felt before.

  She’d make me millions and I couldn’t even bring myself to give a fuck.

  I just watched, hypnotized, as she glided down the catwalk, and then the steps. For a moment, all I could think of was a jaguar, slinking through the underbrush, trapping its prey with just a look. Suddenly those long legs were wrapped around me and I was getting the best lap dance of my life. Looking up, I met her bright, green-eyed gaze, as I inhaled her exotic scent, and noticed a sprinkle of freckles covering her pert nose.

  Who are you?

  She was stunning. But not only because of her beauty. No, it was something in her face, something that spoke of fierceness and determination. This was a woman who played hard, but worked even harder.

  She was trouble.

  And I’d never been so taken by anyone in my life.

  I groaned and breathed in her perfume again. Pop always warned me about dipping the pen in the company ink, but, damn.

  I had to repress a growl as she ground against me again, the pressure in my pants building so fast, it was almost funny.

  Almost.

  The music faded and those magical hips finally stilled. As I tried to get a grip, she flipped her hair back and stared me right in the eyes.

  “Whaddaya think, big boy?”

  Chapter Two

  Bella

  My insides were quaking. I couldn’t believe those words just popped out of my mouth, but it was like the cherry on top after that spectacle.

  I could hardly believe I pulled it off. And if that stiffy pressing against my v-jay was any indication, I definitely did it with a big ol’ bang.

  With my legs wrapped around the one and only Colt Capestrana, I couldn’t help but feel a hot rush of triumph mixing in with my icy rage.

  A Ruffino always pays their debts in full. Hope you can afford me, Colt.

  Those three weeks I’d spent studying dance videos online and taking those crazy hard pole-dancing classes, (which had been murder on my core) had clearly done the trick. More than a decade of vigorous ballet and contemporary dance hadn’t hurt, either.

  Madame Lesaude, my ferocious dance instructor and mentor of three years, would’ve probably lost her mind if she knew what I was up to, though. Thank God we had an ocean safely between us and her studio in France. Because now that I was back in the snow-ridden grit of urban New England, I was no longer a student.

  I was a Ruffino ready to get justice and water my roses with Capestrana blood.

  Oh, it would feel good when I smiled into this bastard’s face, as I drove a proverbial knife right through his black heart, and left his corpse for the crows. That would wipe that infuriating smirk right off his face.

  Time had seemed to stop as I’d danced, watching him watch me, and taking a sweet, vindictive pleasure in seeing him stunned. But now, without the music, time started again, and I had to get away from him before the all-too thin veil covering my hatred started to slip.

  I had to keep playing my part if I wanted to gain his trust.

  Hastily, I stood up, and noticed the other guy at the table, staring at me like his heart was about to spring out of his chest on a wire. He had big brown eyes, and a sweet almost childish look about him. Man, what a goofball.

  A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth before I got a handle on it. If he was with Colt, he was either a Capestrana or part of their gang. That meant, he was my enemy, baby face or not.

  When I looked back at Colt, he seemed to fill the room again. The eldest Capestrana son was the epitome of “all eyes on me”. As he leaned back in his chair, he winked at me, and drawled, “Damn, Jessica, not bad. Headliner spot is all yours.”

  “My name isn’t Jessica.” My nostrils flared as I stuck my chin in the air. “It’s…” I hesitated.

  I’d had a stage name in mind, but hell if I could remember it under the full weight of his stare.

  Luckily, Colt ignored me, stretching his arms out, and putting them behind his head. “Sure it is. Jessica Rabbit. That’s what we’re going to call you. I’ll even throw in a bonus for it.”

  “Fine. But it better not be chump change.” It was a risk, but something told me Colt Capestrana liked a challenge. I’d watched all the girls before me, and he’d been bored to tears. I couldn’t afford to have him getting sick of me for a long while, yet. Not until I’d done what I’d come to do.

  Colt and the other guy laughed.

  “Oh, I like you, Rabbit.” His eyes flashed. “You’re feisty.”

  Then he suddenly sat up straight, his eyes going sharp.

  “Seriously, though. Name a price. And if it really would bother you, we won’t call you that, but I like the whole package on a lot of levels. I’m banking on the nostalgia factor for some of the older clientele with the music, vintage Hollywood body-type and those classic hair waves, and then the younger ones my age and into their thirties will remember the movie and the character. We’ll get ‘em coming and going. What do you say?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. First he was all Mr. Suave, now he’s Mr. CEO?

  My cousin Rudy had warned me that Colt Capestrana was not someone to mess with. I hated when he was right. I’d expected a grunting meathead and, although he was muscular and great looking, he was also smart. This display of shrewd business sense left me feeling less than comfortable.

  Shrugging, trying to play coy and buy time, I asked, “How about we negotiate all that later? I could really use some water. Please?”

  “I’ll get it!” the other guy volunteered, jumping up, and knocking his chair over in the process. “Oh, sorry, Colt,” he mumbled as he ran off.

  Colt meanwhile, let out something between a sigh and a laugh, his face softening. Something warm fluttered in my chest, as he said, “Forgive my bumbling cousin, Dante. He means well.”

  “Colt! That was all the girls!” came a crisp female voice from the stage. Turning, I saw Julie, the stage manager, waving at us. “It’s late, I’m headin’ out,” she barked. “Ton can lock up.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jules, you can both go home. I’ll lock up. And thank you, you’re amazing
. Truly, I couldn’t do this without you,” responded Colt.

  I was surprised to see Julie melt a little on the spot. She was a graying, tough old broad with thick thighs, and beady eyes. But even she seemed unable to resist this Colt and his charm.

  I’d kill myself before I let those moves work on me.

  After Julie offered Colt a reluctant smile, she looked at me. “Girlie, you can dance. Colty, make her a good offer, and don’t forget about health insurance.”

  And with that she marched off.

  “Jules is the mama bear of stage managers,” Colt said in my ear. “I hired her in case any customers get wise and try to go backstage. Woman totes around brass knuckles in her bra.”

  “What, really?” I laughed, whirling around, and nearly bumping into him. At 5’8 I was rarely impressed by tall guys, but Colt loomed over me, over six feet of rock hard muscle. I took a step back, trying to ignore the warm, inviting scent of his expensive cologne.

  Smells really good, though.

  Then I mentally kicked myself.

  Enemy. Revenge. Family. Hello?

  He smiled down at me. “Dante’s probably got your water, if he didn’t get his head stuck in the fridge again. Shall we?”

  I took his offered arm and tried not to think about how strong his forearm felt. He reminded me of Gustav, a rock climber I’d met at school, who liked to walk around on his hands for fun. But Gustav didn’t have Colt’s height, his broad shoulders, and his muscular back sloping down to that firm ass. He’d never worn a three-piece suit that made you want to linger over unbuttoning it.

  All it took was closing my eyes for a second and remembering the vision of my father’s casket sliding into the ground, and suddenly, my resolve was back, stronger than ever.

  “Aw, man,” Dante muttered, appearing with a glass of water. “Ma just called. I gotta go.”

  Colt laughed, pulling away from me, and clapped his cousin on the shoulders. “Night, Dante. And thanks for, ah, all your help tonight. Tell Auntie Gina I send my love.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Dante sounded subdued as he handed me the glass. “You did really good up there, you know.” He was so sincere that I just stared. “You could be a professional dancer.”

  “Thank you,” I managed to get out. “Uh, nice meeting you.”

  “Bye,” Dante said glumly, trudging off to the exit.

  “Cuz, don’t be so down. The shows are starting next week, and we have more girls to audition tomorrow!” Colt called after him, but Dante just half-heartedly waved as he vanished down the hall.

  Sipping my water, it suddenly hit me that I was alone with Colt Capestrana in his big barroom-cabaret-sex-house-whatever. My hands began to shake and I hastily put the glass down.

  “So, Rabbit.” Colt hopped up on the bar with his legs swinging over the side. “Got a real name?”

  “Of course, doesn’t everyone.” I came to a sudden decision. “Bella Lesaude.” Half right, half wrong and far enough from Isabella Ruffino that he’d never make the connection. Especially considering how far my father had always gone to keep me out of the limelight and off the radar. Sons in the family business were one thing, but Dad had always been terrified of me getting hurt if the other families knew about me.

  Guilt pricked at me for disobeying him in this. He’d never wanted me to come back to the U.S. and join the fold, but surely, he’d understand. With him dead and my little brother in prison, I had no choice. Someone had to make the Capestranas pay. It might as well be me.

  “Nice to meet you.” He stretched his entire upper-body and I bit my cheek as his well-defined arms strained the seams of his jacket. “If you somehow didn’t know already, I’m Colt Capestrana.”

  “Yeah, I know who you are,” I replied, staring him down, and struggling to keep my voice even.

  Glancing him over, I took his full measure, and realized this guy was a hard-core Casanova. Not only did he have that winning smile, but he had a captivating way about him, along with a charismatic personality. Energy and masculinity flowed off him in waves, making me want to step closer almost instinctively, despite what my brain knew was true.

  All of which, he was clearly aware of. Here was a man who pulled girls in with just a look or a turn of phrase. His voice was sexy, too, low and mellow, as though he savored each word as he spoke it. Bright hazel eyes, glinting with gold, flashed in his handsome face, and perfectly set off his dark olive skin.

  Goddamn Capestranas and their good looks and silver tongues, I growled to myself, glancing away from that smile. But I couldn’t help wondering how my name would sound coming from his lips.

  “Of course you do,” Colt replied. I raised an eyebrow and looked back. He didn’t sound smug, just matter-of-fact. “Got any Italian in you, Is-a-bel-la? Po’ di Italiano? Piu Siciliu?”

  I fought down a few butterflies as Colt lilted my name. I had to admit, it was pretty good.

  “Uh, well…” For some reason the way he was looking at me made me feel like I had to deny that. Vigorously. “Nope. Not an ounce. I’m…Swiss.”

  Why did I say that? And he speaks Italian and Sicilian?!

  “Swiss?” he asked, cocking his head with a frown. “Hm. I don’t know, Bella, you don’t look Swiss. You look like a Northern Italian-Sicilian mix to me.”

  I shivered. Damn, Rudy, you weren’t kidding. That was a freakishly good guess. Colt was too sharp, quick, and observant for his own good.

  I’d really have to watch my step from here on out.

  “And isn’t Lesaude French?” Colt asked.

  “Oui, monsieur.” Getting a grip on myself, I continued, “If you must know, the Lesaudes were originally from France, but moved to Switzerland a long time ago. So, I’m French, yes, but I’m also Swiss.” Huffily, I asked, “We done with the geography lesson?”

  “For now.” Colt looked at me for another moment, then hopped down off the counter. “You want a tour of your new palace, Princess Bella?”

  “Princess, really?” I snorted, trying not to let the dead panic show on my face. My father had called me exactly that as a little girl. Jesus Christ, was Colt on to me? What if he’d known the whole time?

  Suddenly, my hands went ice cold as I realized we were alone in the club and no one knew I was even here except the people on his payroll.

  I’d sashayed in thinking I was the cat, but what if I’d been the mouse all along?

  “Yeah, you’re the princess of this new club. Didn’t you know? With dancing like that, you’ll be pulling crowds from across the country. Come on, let me show you the rest of the place.”

  “Well…”

  I didn’t want to go. What if he was luring me to a room with a plastic sheet on the floor, for Christ’s sake? But if he wasn’t suspicious before, refusing would definitely trigger his suspicions. Decisions, decisions.

  What does your gut say, Bella?

  “You say ‘well’ a lot. Gotta think before you speak, huh?” Colt asked.

  I blinked, swallowing, as my mind and heart began to race.

  “Got something to hide? Well, that’s a good thing. We all have secrets, Bella. The clients will love it. They want a woman with some mystery.”

  I was almost shaking with relief. Either he was the world’s best actor, and I was still marked for death, or he really was just talking and my own guilt was driving me nuts like a real life tell-tale heart.

  Take a chill pill, Bells.

  Turning to the stage, Colt gestured at the room. “I’ll take that as a yes. This is the main room. Entertainment, dancers, booze.”

  He sauntered away from me and I couldn’t help but watch him walk. I wondered what he’d done in his life to accumulate that much self-assurance.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I commented, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other.

  Colt continued on, explaining, “The first floor is mainly table service, with a few rooms set aside for a more intimate setting. But the second floor and third floor.” He let out a dark chuckle. “Tha
t’s where the real fun begins, Izzy.”

  “Bella,” I bit out before I could help it, looking up.

  “Just trying it out.” Colt was smiling at me as he led me over to a curving staircase.

  Don’t be a bitch, Bells, flirt! I told myself sternly.

  As we entered the second floor, I purposefully brushed my shoulder against his. “I was just teasing you, Mr. Capestrana. Call me whatever you want, just don’t call me late for cocktails.” I lingered on the cock part and managed a wink, but as soon as I said it, my face flamed red. Lame.

  Kill me know.

  Colt howled with laughter and began walking backwards down the hall. “Just Colt is fine, Bella.” He sang out my name and I tried to calm the heat in my face. “So, these are the naughty rooms. Care to take a peek?”

  “Of course. Although, I’ll warn you. I don’t impress easily,” I responded, twisting my fingers through my hair, and trying to remember how my girlfriends in France flirted. On a whim, I murmured, “Mais, tu es drôle.”

  Keep him guessing. That had been some good advice and I was determined to try.

  Pausing in the hallway, Colt leaned over, and opened a door.

  “Ladies, first.” As I passed by him, he whispered, “J’aimerais mieux te connaître. Oh, and, merci, I am pretty entertaining.”

  I’d like to get to know you better.

  Without realizing it, I stopped short, and my heartbeat took off. Colt was standing directly behind me and his breath tickled the hair against the back of my neck.

  “You speak French?” I half-whispered. Not only that, but flawless French.

  “You can keep walking, you know. No monsters in here.”

  I rushed in as Colt flicked on another light, brightening the dim room. “And oui, I speak a lot of languages. You could almost call it a hobby, I guess. I tend to like a challenge.”

  There was something in his words that hit me hard in the gut and my cheeks flushed again. Wildly, I pressed my hands to my face, and pretended to be engrossed in this chamber of kink.