Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(22)

She swallowed her nervous laughter. “Are you sure you want to drop three thousand for a four-minute dance? I’ve never studied dancing of any kind seriously, by the way. I just took classes in college because Pilates and aerobics bored me.”

“What college was that?”

“Um . . .”

“No one majors in belly dancing.”

“Oh—that’s a joke.” She snapped her fingers. “I don’t want to answer questions about myself.”

“Understood. And I appreciate your honesty,” he replied. “But to answer your question, I enjoyed your performance today. I wanted an encore.”

Well and good, but Caro continued. “For that kind of money, you could hire a professional dancer and live musicians playing authentic instruments. Maybe even get a hookah going. Puff puff.”

“No thanks.”

“OK then. Guess I’ll just have to do my best.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted. Really not complicated at all.”

She shook her head. “It’s just weird.”

“Why?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re completely safe here.”

True as far as it went but she still almost laughed at him. As if anywhere could ever feel safe again. Not after months of cowering in constant fear, terrified that she’d be chopped into chunks at any minute. She was sick of it.

And why cross-question a guy whose only crime was offering her a wad of cash for a few minutes of her time? Maybe because you’re so goddamn lonesome, you just desperately need to talk to someone. How pathetic was that?

She had the uncanny feeling that Gallagher had somehow overheard her mental monologue. He looked at her like he had. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said.

She offered the most obvious thing she could think of. “I needed the money.”

“You can go at any time.”

“I’m not about to bail,” she said. “I just don’t get your agenda, I guess.”

“I don’t have one.”

Bullshit.

“Did I make myself clear? There can be nothing else. Not tonight. Not ever.”

His stern mouth curved into a sensual smile. “Understood,” he said. “And agreed to. There will be nothing else, until the end of time.”

His swift agreement left her at a loss for words. “Well. OK, then,” she said.

“And by the way, in case you were wondering, I would’ve preferred not to involve my staff.”

“Hadn’t thought about that one way or another, actually.” Which was a fact.

“It seemed safe to assume that you’d balk at going to a private residence,” he said. “So my solution was to have three female pillars of the community, all within earshot.”

“I only met one,” she observed.

He grinned briefly. “You’re not easy.”

“That’s for sure,” she agreed.

“Look, I just want to watch you without anyone watching me do it. Or breaking my balls for enjoying the sight of a beautiful woman dancing like a goddess.”

“Oh.” The compliment made her face hot, but she still laughed at his rueful tone. “And now I’m the one breaking your balls.”

“That you are,” he agreed.

Despite his casual tone, she felt engulfed by the incredible energy that emanated from him. It buzzed and shimmered against her body. She’d never felt an emotional vibration so strong from anyone. It was all the stronger for being so fiercely controlled.

“I still don’t know why I called you,” he went on when she didn’t reply. “It was an irrational impulse. I wanted to see what would happen. Every once in a while I do that.”

The purposeful glow in his eyes made her breathless. “How often?”

He sighed. “Hell. I lied. This is the first time. Once in a lifetime, right?”

“Why me?”

“Do I have to explain? The feeling is real. You’re real. Just let me experience it.”

The word kicked open a dark room inside her, letting the light in. Something twisted deep inside her, something hot and soft and vulnerable. Her gaze skittered away, seeking something else to land on, but the big room was a masterpiece of austere, elegant minimalism with Gallagher himself as the only focal point.

Real. Oh, yes. He could have his dance. He could have anything he wanted.

“Ready to begin?” he asked.

Stay dignified. Stay classy. She wondered if he could sense the boundary he’d just destroyed in her mind. “Excuse me. Yes. But I do need to change.”

“I’ll take care of the music.”

“Third cut on the playlist,” she said.

“Got it. One more request, though. No jewelry on your face.”

She stopped in her tracks. He’d seen her face, so the jewelry was irrelevant. But she’d never danced without it.

“OK. But no photos. And no filming.”

“Agreed,” he said.

The bathroom was large and luxe, but she was too anxious to notice details. She hurried into her costume and painted her face, stabbing herself with the mascara wand until she started an inky landslide. She put on lipstick, draped the purple veils. The scratchy tickle of synthetic hair brushed her exposed back. Her bare feet flexed against the smooth hardwood flooring. She reached out to open the door and make her entrance.