Chapter 4 Between Vengeance And Desire

• "So, you are Richard Morgan's girl-Aria?"
• Aria Morgan forced a smile onto her lips. "Yes," she said, her voice catching. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes, Mr. Rossi. But call me Aria-everyone does."
• Julian Rossi leaned back, studying her with a sharp gaze that made her skin prickle. "And you can call me Julian. So, how is your mother these days?"
• "Fine," Aria lied smoothly. "She sends her regards."
• One of Julian's eyebrows lifted, heavy with disbelief. And why not? Her mother would have died of shame if she had ever known Aria was standing in this place, trying to pass herself off as someone who belonged. But her mother was gone, taken years ago, and would never know. That was something Aria had decided was best left unspoken, in case Julian harbored fond memories that would not extend to her.
• "Now, darling," Julian said, his voice casual, almost bored. "What is it you think I can do for you?"
• His tone cut the air, laced with disinterest, and Aria had to swallow hard before answering. "I need a job."
• "You said you wanted to be a dancer." His eyes flicked toward the stage, where a blonde moved shamelessly against the steel pole. "Like that?"
• Aria risked a quick glance. The woman on the stage clung to the pole with practiced ease, her body curving, twisting, breasts straining against gravity. They were so large Aria could not believe they were real. Heat rose to her cheeks as she instinctively glanced down at her own body. She had never minded her lack of curves before, had even been secretly pleased by it. Breasts always seemed inconvenient. But beside this woman, she felt like a child in the wrong game.
• "I do not suppose you host a classic night?" she asked weakly. "Ballroom?"
• Julian's mouth curled into something between a smile and a sneer. "This is a strip club, darling. What do you think?"
• Aria bit her lip, lowering her eyes. No answer was needed.
• "Experience?" he asked.
• Her heart lurched. Experience of what? Panic pushed her hand into her bag. "I brought my résumé," she said, pulling out a single sheet of paper. She placed it in front of him, but he did not even glance at it. He set it aside without interest, leaned back, and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled between them as he took a slow drag, his eyes fixed on her.
• "Okay," he said at last, his tone low and deliberate. "Let us have a look at you."
• Aria froze. "What?"
• "Lose the clothes, sweetheart. Let us see what you have got."
• Her throat closed. "Here?"
• Julian gave a cold laugh, and amusement threaded his words. "If you cannot do it in front of us, then how do you expect to do it on the stage?" He nodded at the blonde who swung around the pole like it was an extension of her body. "Come on. Do not waste my time."
• The menace in his voice chilled her.
• Aria's stomach churned. Heat raced over her skin, her pulse hammering. She had come so far. She could not collapse now. This plan was reckless, foolish, but it was all she had. She could not return to Noah with nothing. She could not go home empty-handed.
• She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. It was only clothes, she told herself. She had gone topless on a beach before. She was not a prude. She could do this.
• Her fingers trembled as she slipped off her cotton jacket and draped it over the chair. Her sundress buttoned down the front. She opened one, then another. Hesitating, she looked at Julian. He lounged back, eyes narrowed, expression bored. There was no sign of interest, no flicker that he saw her as anything but another commodity. Strangely, it steadied her. He saw women like this every day. She was nothing special to him.
• She unfastened another button.
• From the shadows, Stefan Romano watched her. His eyes locked on the girl as her expression wavered between terror and determination. He saw the way her hands shook, the way she pressed her lips together to keep from showing fear. When the edge of pale skin appeared beneath the cotton fabric, a bolt of heat gripped him, low and dangerous.
• He had felt nothing for the blonde on stage, her near naked body sliding over cold steel. But this girl-this daughter of Richard Morgan-was different. One glimpse of her bare skin and he wanted her. He hated himself for it.
• He forced himself to remember who she was. Richard Morgan's daughter. The child of the man who had ruined him, destroyed his father, and left scars that never healed. Stefan could not afford to forget. He told himself his interest was strategy, nothing more. She was not here for work. She was here for something else. And he would find out what.
• Her dress was open halfway when she faltered. Her eyes blinked rapidly, glistening in the dim light. He knew she was close to breaking. And though part of him wanted her to finish what she had started, not here. Not like this.
• "Enough," Stefan said softly.
• Julian glanced at him, then nodded. "Go take a seat over there," he told Aria.
• She obeyed quickly, relief flickering in her eyes. Once she had gone, Julian turned back to Stefan. "Well?"
• Stefan's mouth curved into a sardonic smile. "You are an evil bastard, Julian."
• Julian laughed. "Impressive though, was I not? So, what do you think? Or do I even need to ask?"
• "About what?" Stefan asked coolly.
• Julian smirked. "You could not take your eyes off the girl. Poor Mandy up there has been twisting herself inside out for you since you walked in, and you have not spared her a glance. But this one-this one caught your attention."
• Stefan's jaw tightened.
• Julian tilted his head. "She reminds me of that one you were seeing before you went inside. What was her name? Sarah? Susan?"
• "Serena," Stefan said at last, the name reluctant on his tongue. He had only thought himself in love once, and the memory was bitter.
• "That was it," Julian said with satisfaction. "Serena. She left you when you landed in trouble, did she not? This one looks like her. So what do you think?"
• Stefan's eyes narrowed. "She is up to something."
• "Of course she is," Julian agreed. "And it has nothing to do with dancing. We could always ask her."
• Stefan tapped his fingers on the table. "We could, but she is Richard Morgan's daughter. The truth is not likely to be part of her plan. No. We go with the original idea. I will offer her a job, keep her close, and she will soon reveal what she is after. And perhaps she will lead me to Morgan."
• Julian raised his glass. "Sounds good. But be careful. If Richard is coming back, he will want you out of the way. And this time, he will make sure it is permanent."
• Stefan leaned back, eyes fixed on the place where Aria sat. He felt the old hunger stir inside him, dark and sharp. She was not just Richard Morgan's daughter anymore. She was the key. And Stefan intended to hold it tightly.