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“That’s not true. You make me feel things for you that I . . .”
He raked his hands through his hair, looking for words. Excuses, she thought. No more.
“Can it. I don’t fucking care. I’ll have Sadie bring me home around four. You’d better not be there. Since Bonheur and Sexy Sirens are both closed on Sundays, don’t make me lay eyes on you until Monday’s dinner service. Even then? Don’t talk to me. And don’t ever touch me again.”
Luc didn’t say a word as she disappeared into the bathroom. His silence broke her heart all over again. Tears stung her eyes like acid drops. She knew what she’d said, but a part of her wished he cared enough to fight for her. Apparently not. Ridiculous, wishful thinking. She’d learned fairy tales were shit at fifteen. How had she forgotten that valuable lesson?
After cleaning up, she dragged on a new thong and brushed her hair, marveling at the flushed, swollen-lipped woman in the mirror. She’d finally fallen in love for the first time in her life. What a miserable fucking experience.
Turning away from the mirror, she breezed past Luc and headed for her bedroom door. He stood in her way.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. Don’t do this.” A battle raged on his face, and he looked both uncertain and contrite.
“Do what? Be smart? Did you plan to ever see me again after Thursday?”
Guilt tightened his face. He looked away. “No.”
Pain swelled inside her all over again. “I’ve been through too much to be your doormat. Since you’re so eager to cast me in the role of slut . . . forgetting me should be a snap.”
With that, she slid past him and stomped out the door. As soon as she cleared the bedroom, the tears began to fall in earnest. Never again. After he left, she could never again lay eyes on that man. Be alone with him. He’d already crushed her, and she’d crumble at his feet. Beg for his affection.
Damn it, she refused to put herself in a position to be tempted to grovel for anything, especially from someone who didn’t value her.
She barreled down the hall, to the stairs, hiding behind the wall of props as she made her way backstage.
“Alyssa?”
She heard Sadie call to her—and she couldn’t respond now. She held up a hand and ran to her office where she opened the door, slammed it, locked it, then flipped on the lights.
Closing her eyes against tears, she felt her way to her chair and collapsed in it. A moment and a sniffle later, she opened her eyes to reach for a tissue.
Peter stood there—and he looked beyond pissed.
Chapter Ten
LUC stared at the closed door of the bedroom. He could still hear the slam reverberate in his head.
Her anger had been tangible—and well deserved.
Swiping a hand down his face, he felt exhaustion seep into his bones. Yet . . . deep inside, he itched, wanted, yearned. It had taken everything inside him to be honest about their future and let her walk away.
Seeing Tyler’s mouth on Alyssa’s had wrung his guts inside out. The beast inside him had screamed, lurching to life, demanding her body and submission. And anything else she’d give him. He couldn’t even put a name to everything he needed from her. But it wasn’t good-bye.
Yes, she’d let Tyler kiss her, but Luc knew that, of the two of them, he’d fucked up more. After tonight, after losing control with her, he deserved whatever she threw at him.
Now that Alyssa had gone, he had to confront the most basic question rolling around in his head: Why did jealousy get the best of him whenever he thought for a moment that she might have another lover? He couldn’t stay. Why did he take his frustration out on her sexually?
Because you’re falling for her, and that scares the hell out of you.
He staggered to the bed, then sank down. Was that even possible? Could he really have fallen for her in a matter of days?
They had as many arguments as they did sexual encounters, both heated. But Alyssa was so much more. Determination, grit. Kind to the other girls. Smart. Pragmatic and unafraid . . . except that vulnerable side she’d let him glimpse only once or twice. There was a part of her she kept hidden that he was dying to know. Everything about her fascinated him. Despite being in a flashy business, Alyssa was so . . . real. More real to him, in fact, than any of his previous lo vers.
But she didn’t fit in the future he had planned.
Since she wasn’t his exclusively and never would be, he had to stop acting like a jackass, even if it killed him. She’d demanded that he leave her in peace until he departed Lafayette. Somehow, he would. It was for the best, and he owed her that. He’d just have to figure out how to forget her. Or learn to live with the open wound.
A moment later, someone pounded on the door. Wincing, he trudged across the room and pulled the door open. Tyler.
Luc had no idea what to think about the man. On the one hand, he acted with the familiarity of Alyssa’s lover. The guy had to be one of her friends with benefits, right? But Alyssa had sworn that Tyler wasn’t. Luc wanted to believe her so badly.
“Where is she?” Tyler took at the rumpled bed, at Luc’s disheveled appearance, at Alyssa’s ripped garments strewn across the floor. Then he gritted his teeth. “Goddamn it, did you hurt her? Where the fuck is she?”
How the hell did he answer that? “I didn’t hurt her physically.”
“But you broke her heart, you sanctimonious bastard.”
Tyler hauled back, making a meaty fist. Luc saw it coming a mile away and did nothing. The right cross was a killer, and his head slammed back and pain seared its way through his head, rattling his brain.
He rubbed his sore jaw and glared at Tyler. “If it’s any consolation, the minute she left, it was like being hit by a semi. She barreled over me, and I feel like roadkill.”
“Good. Alyssa puts on a damn good front, but deep down, she’s fragile. She doesn’t show her emotions to anyone, but since you came here, she’s been wearing them all over her face. And she looks fucking desolate.”
Luc hung his head. He’d treated her like a whore, had sex with her to get her out of his system, accused her of sleeping around. He’d been astounded by her intelligence. It had never occurred to him that a stripper could complete advanced degrees. With any other woman, he would simply have admired her accomplishments, not been shocked. He’d all but forced his way into her body and tried to push his way into her heart with no intent to stay around and give himself back to her.
He deserved every bit of his broken heart and more.
“It won’t happen again.”
“Damn straight!” Tyler snarled. “I love that woman, and you shit on her. Do you know how hard it’s been to stand back and watch?”
Incredibly difficult, Luc was certain. He hadn’t liked Tyler kissing her, but if he’d been sidelined while being forced to watch another man seduce and mistreat her, he would have gone completely insane and ripped the bastard’s head off. Suddenly, he admired Tyler’s restraint.
“At this point, I can only say I’m sorry. I’ll cook and keep to myself until I leave Thursday.”
“Do that. But now we have to find Alyssa. Sadie saw her running backstage a few minutes ago, bawling her eyes out.”
Luc closed his eyes. He’d thought he couldn’t feel worse. Wrong. Knowing he’d hurt her—again—was like dragging a sharp, rusty blade through his heart.
Tyler got in his face, clearly not finished with his tirade. “And after we find her, it’s open season, asshole. If you cause her another instant of pain, I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart with my bare hands.”
Normally, Luc didn’t take threats well. This . . . He just nodded.
“When she left, did she say where she was headed?”
“No.” She hadn’t said anything at all.
Tyler hesitated, jaw clenched. “Peter was in the guest area around the stage fifteen minutes ago. He didn’t leave; he’s not in the john—but he’s MIA. So is Alyssa.”
Fear jolted Luc from his stupor. He bolted toward the door. “We need to find her.”
Giving him a curt nod, Tyler sprinted out of the room and down the stairs, Luc on his heels.
“Could Sadie tell where she was going?”
The bouncer shook his head. “She’s checking some of the guest areas now, to make sure Alyssa isn’t mingling. We’ll check her office.”
She would go there, Luc realized. Upset and teary, she’d want privacy, a soundproof room. A door with a lock.
Luc had a bad feeling about this.
“Run!” he shouted at Tyler.
Seconds later, they stood at the door of her office. Closed and locked. Fear clenched Luc’s heart. He and Tyler both pounded on the door, shouting her name.
No one answered.
“WHAT are you doing here?” Alyssa demanded, standing.
Even in her red stiletto boots, she couldn’t equal Peter’s height, but she wasn’t about to give him the psychological advantage of letting him tower over her sitting form. Still, the frat boy was a bruiser, at least six-two, probably a good two hundred thirty pounds of muscle. Young and drunk and horny.
And she’d left her purse with her pepper spray in her bedroom upstairs.
Calm. Reason with him.
Peter just laughed and started shucking his shirt. He looked at her with a lascivious violence that made her flesh crawl.
“Getting some of that ass you’re constantly flashing in front of me. You’re always letting that bouncer put his hands on you, and I know you’re putting out for that chef who’s been your shadow this week. Now it’s my turn.”
Alyssa’s eyes widened. “You know about Luc?”
Had he been the one writing the notes?
Peter scoffed. “Hell, yes. The way you two look at each other, it’s obvious. Besides, I was upstairs, right outside your door, twenty minutes ago when he was giving it to you good. Baby.” He smiled and unfastened his jeans. “I’ll fuck you better.”
Fear and disgust made her stomach turn. But she had to stay calm. Get herself out of here. She would not be his victim.
“I am not having sex with you. I don’t fuck customers, especially not snot-nosed frat boys who think they’re entitled to whatever they want. So turn around, open the door—”
He charged her, grabbed her arm, and twisted it behind her back. “I’m man enough to make you cream and scream. I don’t take orders from women, especially sluts like you. So shut your fucking mouth, open your pretty thighs, and make yourself useful.”
Alyssa’s stomach jumped, and adrenaline charged her system. She wriggled to get free, but Peter tightened his grip on her arm and he wrenched it up behind her back. Wincing, she stepped up on her tiptoes. If he forced the appendage up any more, he’d pull her shoulder from the socket or break it. Shit!
“Nice boots,” he commented. “They’ll look hot while I fuck you. Now, what’s under that skirt?”
Using her arm to hold her in place, Peter shoved her forward and pushed her face onto her desk. Pain exploded across her cheek when she hit the unyielding surface. Another jab slashed its way across her midsection, on the right side of her rib cage, as the corner of her desk stabbed her. She gasped for her next breath.
While she was still reeling from the pain, Peter used the opportunity to flip her skirt up, expose her thong, and grope her. She shuddered.
“Nice. This is prime, grade-A ass. I know you’re going to make the wait worth it.”
He ripped her thong off, and the cold air hit her newly exposed skin. She shivered.
This was happening. Really happening. God. Oh, God. She had to stop it. She would not be Peter’s victim. She had to elbow his ribs or stomp on his instep. Something . . . He had her immobilized with his threat to break her arm, and she’d rather let him than submit, but if she was going to sacrifice the use of a limb in battle, she had to make sure her action counted.
Peter bent over her body, curling his fist in her hair and smashing her sore cheek against the desk again. Finally, he released her arm, but kept it wedged between them with his body. Still, it was an opportunity, and she needed to use it.
His hand landed on the small of her back; then he ran a finger down the crack of her ass, lingering on her back entrance. “Ever take a man here? Yeah, I’ll bet you have. Whores like you love it kinky and raw. I’m going to fuck you here for sure.”
She heard slurping noises; then Peter was pressing a wet finger into her ass. She shuddered, trying to block the reality out, but the biting pain didn’t allow that. This was getting serious. Fast.
“Ah, yeah. That’s fucking hot. I can’t wait to get back here and go for a hard ride.” He extracted the finger. “But I gotta see those tits first.”
Alyssa expected him to turn her over on her back, give her an opportunity to get her arm free, give her legs more range of motion. Instead, he clenched his fist in the thin cotton at the back of her neck and ripped the garment down and off. To her horror, he aced one-handed bra removal. Once he yanked the garment out from under her, her bare, sore nipples hit the cold desk. She hissed.