My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 161

Chapter 161

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Chapter 161

These strange, dark feelings I had for him were a sickness. It was a black knot tied tight in my chest, and no matter how much I clawed at it, I couldn’t cut it out.

Please… Please let him be as blind as Silvio.

I stood there, frozen. My brain was trying to read the situation. If Silvio didn’t see Gianna under this mask, maybe Raphael wouldn’t either. He was looking for a toy to play with, not a sister. He wouldn’t expect me to be in a place like this, especially not after what happened last time.

He didn’t say a word. He just sat there with his legs spread wide, taking up the whole world. His eyes crawled over my body, from my silver hair down to my shaking knees. It felt like he was skinning me alive with just a look.

Don’t cry. Don’t shake. Don’t be a mess.

I remembered Morgan. I remembered the bathtub. I remembered that I was a failure who had lost everything. If I broke now, I was dead. If he saw me, my life was over.

“Perform,” the guard said again, nudging me.

I moved toward the pole in the center of the booth. I reached out and touched the cold metal, my fingers trembling so hard I almost missed. I didn’t look at his face. I couldn’t. If I looked into those dark eyes, I would fall apart.

I forced my body to move. I took all the fear, the panic, and that weird, hot ache in my chest and I pushed it all into my muscles. I swung my leg up in a wide, smooth arc, sliding against the pole and trying to be the beautiful, empty thing that men liked to see.

I was dancing for the man who owned the house I lived in. I was dancing for the man who haunted my every dream. I was dancing for the man I thought about when I was alone, touching myself shamelessly in the dark. I was dancing for the man I had begged God to let me have just once but not like this. Not in a way that would ruin my mother or destroy what was left of me.

I forced my mind to go quiet.

I gripped the pole and hauled myself upward. I didn’t just dance, I arched my back until I could feel the blood rushing to my head, my hair sweeping the floor like a curtain of moonlight. I wrapped my legs around the cold metal and slid down inch by inch, keeping my eyes locked onto his.

He didn’t move or blink. He sat there like a statue made of stone and muscle, his hand wrapped around a glass of bourbon. The blood on his jaw was dark and dry now.

I got closer. I dropped to my knees on the table right in front of him. I moved my hips in a slow circle, my hands sliding up my own body, tracing the curves he was devouring with his eyes.

I looked straight into those dark eyes. I waited for the spark of recognition. I waited for the anger, or the disgust, or any sign that he knew who I was at all but there was nothing.

His gaze was hungry, yeah. It was hot. But it was the way a man looks at a stranger. A wave of relief hit me so hard I almost lost my rhythm. He didn’t know. He didn’t recognize me.

The weight that usually sat on my chest lifted, just a little and I felt a surge of confidence. I leaned back, my spine a perfect curve, and let out a breath that was almost a moan.

I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, never breaking eye contact. I saw his grip tighten on the glass until his knuckles went white. I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

1/2

hapter 161

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I was doing this to him.

Me.

I felt a giddy laugh bubbling up in my throat.

I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled to the very edge of the table. I moved slow, making sure I gave him a perfect view of my breasts almost spilling out of the thin lace of my lingerie. I crawled until I was only inches from his face. Up close, I could see the dark, rough stubble on liis skin and the way the black shirt stretched tight across his heavy chest.

He looked like a god made of violence and money.

He set his glass down.

“Get off the table,” he said, “Sit on me. Give me a lap dance.”

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