Chapter 3 Hidden Motives

• Stefan Romano paused, his eyes glinting as he leaned back in his seat. He let a grin tug at his mouth as if the very idea amused him. "No disrespect, Julian, but it should not be too difficult. Then I will make her an offer she cannot refuse."
• Julian Rossi arched an eyebrow. "So we play the old good crook, bad crook routine?"
• "Something like that," Stefan murmured. "All you have to do is be your charming self, and she will be begging me to take her away from here in minutes. After that, it will be easy to find out what she knows."
• Julian tapped his glass against the table, thoughtful. "And what do we tell her about you?"
• "Tell her I am an old acquaintance of her father's." Stefan's smile deepened, touched with something darker. "Tell her the truth. Tell her I owe Richard Morgan. Big time."
• Julian hesitated and then gave a slow shake of his head. "I cannot help feeling a little sorry for Aria Morgan." His gaze shifted toward the entrance. "And if I am not mistaken, that must be her now."
• Stefan turned his head, and the world seemed to stop moving. A young woman had stepped inside the club, her wide eyes caught on the stage where a dancer twisted around a steel pole to pounding music. The expression on her face was almost comical, a mixture of shock and disbelief, as if she could not decide whether to run or laugh. She looked utterly out of place in the smoky gloom, so out of place that Stefan nearly smiled.
• But then she turned, and he saw her eyes.
• They were blue as a summer sky, clear and guileless, yet they carried a memory that made hatred rise like fire in his chest. They were Richard Morgan's eyes. The eyes of the man who had ruined his family. For a heartbeat Stefan was filled with nothing but loathing.
• And then, just as suddenly, something shifted. His gaze traced her as she hesitated near the doorway. She was slightly taller than average, with long legs that seemed to go on forever. Her figure was slim, almost boyish, but graceful in its lines. She tugged nervously at the hem of a short pink dress that looked borrowed rather than owned. Her blonde hair fell straight to her shoulders, framing a face that was striking in its simplicity-high cheekbones, a generous mouth, and a softness that spoke of innocence.
• As she bit her lip and her tongue flicked against it, Stefan felt a rush of heat coil low inside him. Hatred blurred, replaced by a flash of desire so sharp it startled him. It had been a long time since a woman had affected him so instantly, and he knew he would use that pull to uncover her secrets. Women had never been a problem for him. Aria Morgan would be no different. In time, she would give him whatever he wanted.
• Relaxing into the shadows of the booth, Stefan allowed himself a smile. Julian noticed it and chuckled under his breath.
• "Shall I make a private lap dance part of her audition?" Julian teased.
• "Shut up, Julian," Stefan muttered without looking away.
• Julian grinned. "Suit yourself. That is Richard's girl for sure, though. And from the look on her face, convincing her that dancing is not the career for her should not be difficult."
• Aria stumbled slightly as she crossed the threshold, catching herself on her borrowed heels. For a moment she stood still, blinking at the sudden dimness, relieved by the cool shadows after the glare of the street outside.
• Then her vision adjusted, and she froze.
• "Holy hell," she whispered under her breath.
• The stage was right in front of her, and on it an almost-naked blonde twisted and writhed around a steel pole with shameless enthusiasm. Aria's eyes widened. The woman was doing things that seemed not only obscene but downright dangerous. Aria could not look away, though every instinct screamed at her to run.
• She had spent the afternoon with Maya, her best friend, who had insisted on dressing her for this ridiculous plan. Maya had painted her, curled her, and stuffed her into the pink dress with the confidence of someone who believed she understood the world of exotic dancers. Now, staring at the stage, Aria realized Maya knew as little about this as she did.
• "Great job, Maya," she muttered bitterly.
• She tried to remember the instructions Maya had given her. Think bimbo, nobody will expect you to have a brain. Aria straightened her back, willing herself to appear confident. But one glance at the dancer made her blood run cold. If this was what was expected, then she had already failed.
• Would they want her to do that? Would they expect her to strip?
• Panic rushed through her, and she bit her lip hard. She could not, would not do anything like that.
• Do not think about it. Focus on the plan.
• The problem was that planning had never been her strength. She was more the kind of person who leapt first and considered consequences later. Still, she had a plan of sorts. She only needed to find Julian Rossi, pretend she wanted a job, and slip in a question or two about her father. After that, she could leave. She would never have to step foot in this place again.
• So what if the club was not what she had expected? She did not want to be here anyway.
• Step one: find Julian Rossi.
• She glanced around and spotted a tired waitress leaning against the bar. Mustering her courage, Aria crossed the floor and tapped her lightly on the arm.
• "Excuse me," she said, keeping her voice steady. "I have an appointment with Mr. Rossi."
• The woman gave her a once-over that was anything but flattering. "You do? With Julian?" She smirked and pointed to the back. "He's over there."
• Aria followed her gesture to a shadowed booth tucked away against the far wall. Two men were seated there. One of them rose as she approached, retreating into the darker corner.
• Aria stumbled again in the murky light and caught herself on the table, her heart racing as she found herself face-to-face with the largest man she had ever seen.
• She supposed this must be Julian Rossi. She must have met him once as a child, though she had no memory of it. If she had remembered him, she would never have agreed to this reckless plan. He was huge, broad as a wall, dressed entirely in black leather, with his hair tied back in a rough ponytail. His dark eyes lingered boldly on her chest, which made her flush with embarrassment.
• She resisted the absurd urge to thrust her shoulders forward. That would not help. Instead, she forced a clammy hand down the side of her dress and extended it politely.
• Julian ignored it. Her hand dropped awkwardly to her side.
• Aria's pulse quickened. She had walked straight into a den of shadows, and already the weight of watching eyes pressed on her. She told herself to breathe. She told herself to remember the plan. Yet every instinct warned her that she was in far deeper than she had ever imagined.
• And she had not yet realized that Stefan Romano was already watching her, his interest caught, his hatred burning, and his desire stirring to life.
• Her plan had only just begun. But destiny was already closing its trap.