"You can call me Kelvin, sir." The manager’s throat moved as he swallowed, tugging at the bow tie suddenly choking him.
"Kelvin..." Winn leaned forward. "I’m a man who knows what he wants. Goes after what he wants. And gets what he wants. So let’s cut the games. How much to get her here?"
Kelvin’s Adam’s apple bobbed again, betraying his nerves. "Sir, I really... can’t. The best we do is encourage her to come back for a repeat performance. Two of the patrons already paid for another fifteen minutes."
"She’s not going back up there. Twenty thousand dollars. And all she has to do is come here."
Kelvin’s breath hitched, the corners of his composure unraveling. Twenty thousand for a lap dance?
"I... will see what I can do, sir." For more chapters visit NoveIＦire.net
"Girl, you were fire!" Trish sang the moment Ivy stepped in the dressing room. "Did you see them drooling?!"
Ivy laughed. The image of all those men staring at her body with hungry eyes made her skin crawl though.
"I’m sure Ben’s already got requests lined up for another performance," Trish pressed, waggling her brows.
"I really am not feeling up to another," Ivy admitted. She tugged the mask from her face and rubbed her temples. "I’m tired. I just want to go home."
Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her.
"Come on, you know you need the money," Trish said, as she reapplied a layer of cherry-red lipstick in the vanity mirror. Her sequined bra glittered under the fluorescent dressing room lights.
"Yeah, I do," she admitted, her throat tight. "But every time I’m up there, I’m afraid someone in the audience will know Steve. That they’ll recognise me." Just saying his name made her stomach twist.
Trish groaned dramatically, tossing her hair back. "I don’t know why you stay with him anyway. The guy’s got no dough."
"Money isn’t everything," Ivy muttered.
"Tell me that again when I’m sipping champagne in my private jet someday." Trish cackled, miming clinking glasses with herself. "I’ll wave down at you from the sky, babe."
The door creaked open and Ben, the dancers’ manager, sauntered in with his usual I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. "Beyoncé, Kelvin needs you ASAP."
Ivy’s head snapped up. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"How would I know?" Ben deadpanned, scratching his stubbled jaw. Then he turned and left without another word, the door swinging shut with a lazy thud.
Ivy exhaled hard, her pulse skittering. "Great. Just great." She opened her locker and pulled out a jacket. Wrapping it around herself, she squared her shoulders and headed for Kelvin’s office.
"Beyoncé! My favorite girl!" Kelvin practically sang the moment she walked in. He rounded his desk. He clasped both her shoulders as if she were a prize possession.
Ivy stiffened. She hated when men touched her without asking, but she forced her lips into a polite half-smile. "Is everything okay, sir?"
"More than okay." Kelvin’s eyes twinkled in a way that made her uneasy. He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if he were letting her in on a delicious secret. "I just need you to do me a favor. I will pay you ten thousand dollars tonight if you have a private session with a platinum member."
Ten thousand. Enough to cover two months of her mother’s bills.
Ivy shook her head slowly. "I...I cannot, Kelvin. You know I can’t. I have a boyfriend. How do you think he would feel if he finds out I am even out here shaking my ass for the world to see?" She wrapped her arms around herself.
"But it’s ten thousand dollars," Kelvin pressed.
"Fifteen?" he pushed again.
"Kelvin...please stop. I cannot do it." If she let him, he’d keep pushing until she folded. And then she’d never forgive herself.
Kelvin sighed heavily. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "You know I keep you around because of how much money you make us."
"I know," Ivy admitted, her throat tight. "And I thank you very much. But dancing on stage is what I signed up for. Nothing more." Her chin lifted a fraction.
"What am I supposed to tell him?" Kelvin snapped. "He is a platinum member."
"Send him Trish," Ivy offered quickly, desperate for an escape route. "She is just as good as I am." Her mind flashed with Trish’s glittering laugh, the way her friend would probably jump at the offer without a second thought.
"He doesn’t want Trish." Kelvin stopped pacing, eyes cutting into her. "He wants you."
"I’m sorry, Kev. I really am."
"If I lose this customer, I’m going to take it out of your paycheck." Kelvin had her where he wanted her.
"I need the money, Kev," Ivy whispered. "It’s the only reason why I am here."
"At some point, you have to rethink this," Kelvin said. "What makes you think this boyfriend you are so crazy about isn’t out there cheating on you?"
"Because I know him," she said firmly. "He is a good man and he deserves my loyalty."
"Beyonce, I am not asking you to prostitute yourself. Just give the man a private dance, that’s all." Kev insisted.
"And yet that’s what it will feel like," Ivy countered, her spine straightening. She tugged her jacket tighter around her half-naked body, reclaiming her dignity with the small gesture. "Good night, Kev. I’ll see you on Friday." The finality in her voice was ice cold, and before he could reply, she turned on her heel and walked out of the office.
Winn arrived at his family estate the next day, in time for dinner. The Kane estate was a statement. Acres of manicured lawns stretched into the horizon, lined with century-old oaks. The mansion itself was magnificent, its marble steps and towering pillars intimidating in daylight, but softer now, bathed in the amber glow of evening lamps. As his car pulled into the compound, the butler rushed forward, taking his bag, opening doors.