Free What He Shields (What He Wants Book Seventeen) by Hannah Ford

mix of beer and cigarette
smoke and cologne and danger.   I
felt dizzy just being around him.
    “Um I’m not…” I faltered.   “I mean, yes, I am here to see you.   I mean , I’m
here to try out.   You know, to
audition.”   I could tell I was
blowing it, acting like a simpering idiot.
    Get it together, Olivia, I told myself.   Who cared if this guy was hot? He was
probably a grade-A douchebag.   Especially if he was running a strip club.
    “Okay,” he said.   He stood there for a beat longer than
necessary.   He was still looking
right into my eyes and I forced myself to keep his gaze.   If he thought I was going to look away,
he was wrong.   “Come with me.”
    He turned around and started heading back
behind the stage, moving toward a set of double doors.   I hesitated for a moment.   It was one thing to be out here, in the
middle of an empty strip club. But now I was about to follow some guy I’d never
met before into the back room.   Who
knew what was waiting for me back there?
    Maybe I wasn’t ready for this.   Maybe there was something else I could
do, some other job I could find.   But I knew there wasn’t.   I
was at rock bottom.   And if I didn’t
do something about it soon, I was going to end up even more lost and desperate
than I already was.
    So after a moment, I followed Colt.

 
    ***

 
    He led me down a long hallway and into a small
back room.   I wasn’t sure if it was
supposed to be an office or not.   There was a huge mahogany desk in one corner, but there was also a
stripper pole in the middle of the room.   The floor was covered with a crushed purple and black carpet, except for
an octagon in the middle of the room that was hardwood.   That’s where the pole was.   Around the pole were a bunch of big
leather chairs, the kind of chairs you’d see executives sitting in while they
watched a screening of a movie.
    I licked my lips and wiped my palms against my
skirt.  
    “Why don’t you take a seat?” Colt said.   He sat down in one of the big executive
chairs and motioned for me to sit in one of the others.
    I did as I was told, crossing my legs in what I hoped was a sexy manner.   Be confident, I told myself.   You got this.
    “So,” he said.   “You want to dance here?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    I tried to think of an appropriate
response.   “Because I think it would
be fun.   I love meeting new
people.”   It was all lies.   The real reason I wanted to dance there
was because she had no other choice.   I needed money.   A lot of money.   Money you couldn’t get just from working at Burger King or CVS.  
    “Right.”   Colt chuckled and then leaned back in his chair.   His dark eyes bore into me, so intense I expected to hear a crackle of electricity
echo through the room. Couldn’t he have been fat?   Or old?   Or just… not so
devastatingly gorgeous. “Can you stand up for me?” he asked.
    I stood up.
    “Turn around.”
    I spun around in a slow circle, letting him get
a good long look at my body. My face reddened as I turned back around to face
him.   It was weird, the way he was
making no bones about the fact that he was looking at me.   The weirder thing was that I kind of
liked it.  
    He was just so beautiful.   Stop, I told myself.   So what if he’s good-looking?   He’s obviously a complete pervert.
    “Do you have a job right now?”   Colt asked.
    “A stripping job?”
    “Any kind of job.   Somewhere I can get a reference.”
    I shook my head.   “No.”   It was pretty much impossible to get a
job when you were homeless.   I still
hadn’t figured out what I was going to do when they asked for my address, but I
was thinking I could just give the shelter’s , then
change it once I found a place to live.   I was hoping strip clubs weren’t too picky about things like that.
    Colt’s eyes slid down my body again, and this
time, they landed on my wrist.   “What are the scars from?”
    “Oh.