I yelped, covering myself with my hands. Then realized that was stupid, because the door was locked. “Yes?” I called back.
“Whatever you’re wearing, you’ll look beautiful.”
I slumped, my hands falling away from my body.
I was tempted to throw the door open and kiss him. It had been exactly what I needed to hear. Just one person to say I looked great.
Vincent didn’t lie. He didn’t tell people what they wanted to hear.
When he gave a compliment, he truly meant it.
“Thank you,” I said quietly through the closed door.
“You’re welcome.”
I shed my boring, cotton, everyday underwear and slipped on the midnight-blue panties. They cut halfway across my ass, full enough to provide some coverage and not ride up, but cute and cheeky at the same time. There was no bra. It was more of a lace tank top that plunged deep between my breasts. In the light of my office, it was sheer enough to show a hint of nipple, though once the lights were off in the club, I knew that wouldn’t be noticeable.
But the parts I found sexiest were the thigh-high stockings and the little belts and clips that held the entire outfit together. They were tight across my thighs and held the top from moving out of place.
I blew out a shaking breath and then put the lingerie out of my mind. It was done, and I needed to move on to hair and makeup. The last two things I added were my favorite pair of heels, ones I knew I’d be able to work in for hours without getting a blister, and my mask.
I slid it over my eyes, fastening it in place behind my head. My hair fell in soft waves over my shoulders.
I was done. Ready to begin the party.
There was the urge to vomit again.
I opened the door anyway.
Vincent was still standing on the other side, guarding it like there were thousands of screaming fans trying to break it down.
He turned around. “Are you ready…”
His eyes flared, and unashamedly, his gaze rolled down my body. The lights weren’t out yet, so I knew he was getting a little more than everybody else would, but that felt okay, because he already owned a little part of me. After what he’d done for me with Caleb, and then our kiss…
I wanted him to think I was beautiful.
I was desperately terrified he wouldn’t.
“What do you think?” I whispered.
“What are you wearing?”
Every time someone had said that to me in the past, it had been with scorn. “What are you wearing, Bethany-Melissa? Your arms are really too fat for that. Go put something with sleeves on.”
When Vincent said it, it was with awe.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“Very much.”
I beamed at him, confidence filling me up and overflowing. I handed him a mask. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.
The wall sconces glowed yellow around the room so there was enough light to see by, but not so much people couldn’t hide in the shadows. Heavy bass thumped through the club, the DJ we’d hired playing pump-up music in the hopes of getting people geared up and excited to party.
It was early, so the performers in their cages were still in the tame beginnings of their acts. They danced seductively, running their hands over their bodies while the room filled.
I hid away behind the bar with Rebel and the other staff, my heart in my mouth.
Rebel, in her panties and nipple covers, leaned on the counter, watching the crowd of people stream in. “Turnout looks good, Dis. We’re filling up fast. You ready to make some money?”
I was so ready to make some money. With days until my end-of-month meeting, tonight had to go well. I needed the cold hard cash in my hand.
I picked up my tray of champagne flutes and balanced them carefully on my arm. The shining gold bubbles glimmered in the lights, and Rebel and I took to the room, going in opposite directions, offering every person a complimentary glass to get the party started.
Everyone wore the Psychos masks they’d been handed at the door, and I loved the added element of mystery it brought the room. People mingled in small groups, talking and chatting like they would have at any normal club, some taking to the floor to dance while they sipped their drinks. Others headed straight for the cages, staking out positions in the front row, knowing what would soon be coming once the crowd was warmed up.
One couple made a beeline for the corridor where my office was, disappearing into the darkness with a key dangling from a gold chain. Nash passed me by, and I nodded in their direction.
“What’s with the keys?” I asked.
“They’re for the private rooms. People book them on entry, and they get a key to use whenever they want throughout the night.”