of a chance against Nick if things went south.
Big Nick shook a fist at him and Chase chuckled, gave a cheery wave and navigated the tables and strippers to take up a seat at the back, a few tables down from Isis’ precious dance show.
Emily moved with the rhythm and glanced away from that direction. Chase was fixated on her, and she couldn’t help picturing that it was a private dance, just the two of them in the room with the heat and distance between them. It helped with the nausea.
She spun around the pole, fixating on the clock above the DJ booth, and enjoying the sensation of dancing. She tuned out the jeers and chuckles from the watchers and reveled in the fluidity of the dance.
If she could she’d be a dance teacher in a heartbeat. Even if it was to teach other strippers how to pole dance. Emily scoffed at the thought – fat chance that would ever happen.
Stripping was all she’d ever get.
Chase’s gaze was payment enough for the dirty work, though she didn’t need compensation from him. Emily had fallen too fast. She’d done exactly what she hadn’t wanted to.
She rotated on the pole, came full circle and glanced at Chase to check she still had his attention.
Isis was in front of him, top off, ass in his lap, grinding like there was no tomorrow. The brunette stripper with creamy tan skin wore a smirk to match the gaze she’d plastered on Emily.
Isis knew there was heat between Emily and Chase.
She wanted trouble.
She’d fucking get it.
Emily gripped the pole and rattled it slightly, palms growing hot. A blue flame of anger and heat developed in her mind; Isis bent in front of Chase and wiggled.
Chase’s expression was a picture of revulsion. He pushed his chair back and tried to get up, but Isis turned and forced him back down, straddling him in those pink teeny tiny shorts.
“Hey, bitch!” Emily screamed from the stage and the audience went still.
“Emily, no. Don’t do it.” Chase tried moving out of his chair again, but Isis wouldn’t let him. The slut shook her hair back and laughed, then grabbed him by the hair and forced him between her breasts.
“Get the fuck off him, you whore.” Emily kicked her stilettos off and charged down the stage. She jumped off and landed, then sprinted towards the grinding stripper.
“Go dance for Big Nick, Candy Lane.” Isis moved her hips in circles, desperately trying to arouse Chase, who’d managed to pull free of her massive jugs.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” he spat, smearing glitter off his nose.
“Ha.” That was all Emily said. She grabbed a fistful of Isis’ hair and lugged her off Chase’s lap.
“My extensions!” Isis fumbled at her hair and screamed blue murder. “My extensions, you crazy whore.”
The men in the club started chanting and cheering them on. “Stripper fight, stripper fight, stripper fight.”
Emily gripped Isis’ fake locks and leveraged until the stripper was on her feet. She wrenched the bitch’s face to her own and glared deep into those terror-filled orbs, “You touch him again and I’ll shave your head. Got it?”
“Emily!” The quilted door to the back room slammed open and the big boss marched out, cigar hanging from the end of his fingers. He wore aviator sunglasses indoors and a thick gold chain was nestled in a forest of chest hair.
“Are those leather pants?” Chase muttered it nearby.
Emily dropped Isis, who crumpled to the floor and let out a chain of fake sobs.
The big boss, Hilton, halted in front of her and the chanting settled down, drifting off on the smoke.
“Pack your shit and get out. You’re fired.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Leave me alone.” Emily stormed down the road and into the alley where she’d been hunted down the night before. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Chase stalked along beside her. “Are you out of your damn mind?”
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. But
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