Chapter Seven
Christine
"I need your help, and you can't say no," Cara announced.
I had to laugh. My friend's blue eyes were so serious even as she brandished a disco ball. "No, please, not another flashback night," I groaned.
"Customers love it. So, you're coming backstage with me right now." Cara grabbed my wrist and dragged me along.
I glanced back over my shoulder and felt a wash of relief. This was just the distraction I needed. Work wasn't helping because it always circled around to Slade. And, as much as I wanted to indulge in fantasies about him, there was a mountain of troubles between us. The club was succeeding, in part due to the rumors of murder and mobsters, but it was clear we were heading for a big crash. If Cara wanted to concentrate on a crowd favorite event, then I was all for it.
"As long as you swear I do not have to wear sequins or learn any new dance moves," I said.
Cara laughed. "When was the last time you were out on the dance floor?"
I thought about being pressed tight against Slade as the crowd pulsed around us. "You sound just like my sister."
Cara stopped and took both my hands. "I'm sorry, Christine. Should we grab one of the back booths and chat for a while?"
"No, no." I squeezed her fingers to reassure her. "That was actually the first time I mentioned Anya without it hurting. That's a good thing. Now, tell me about this disco ball crisis."
She looped her arm through mine and took the long way to the stage, around the back wall of the club far from the front windows. "Not until you tell me more about this whole 'last night' thing. The employees are having way too much fun making up the details themselves."
"There is nothing to tell," I said.
"Except that you spent the night at Slade's." Cara countered my firm denial in a teasing voice.
I sighed. "And nothing happened. It almost did, but nothing happened."
Cara stopped next to the stage. "Whoa, wait. You said 'nothing' twice and that makes me think something did happen!"
I pulled free of her arm and threw my hands up in the air. "So there was a kiss. It was nothing, because it can't be anything. There are way too many complications."
"You're letting me have a workplace romance, why can't you?" Cara asked.
"There's a little bit more to it than that," I reminded her.
Cara smiled but her eyes were sad. "I know. I just keep hoping. I really think when it comes down to it, you can trust Slade."
"I'm starting to," I said.
A hopeful light flickered in my friend's eyes again. Then she glanced over to the front windows and a worried frown flashed across her face. I followed her gaze but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Our head of security was holding an extra meeting but that made sense after the breech yesterday.
Just the thought of Aaron made my skin crawl and I rubbed my arms.
"Come on, we've got missing mirrors to replace," Cara said.
She pushed me along in front of her, casting anxious glances behind her. I stopped and she bumped into my back. "All right, what is this all about?" I demanded.
"What?" Cara asked. "Nothing. I just noticed the big disco ball has a bunch of missing mirrors, and I want you to help me fix it. We can replace them with mirrors from this smaller ball, but I was thinking it might be cool if we used colored tiles instead. I wanted your opinion first."
I watched her eyes flit side to side again. "Let me guess. Boyfriend trouble? Are we lurking around back here because you're trying to catch him up to something?"
Cara pursed her lips then shrugged. "Sure. Let's go with that. But it's not like I think he's cheating or anything. I just think he's trying to plan something big and I'm pissed he didn't include me."
We headed back stage and over to the large storage shelf that held the big disco ball. Cara gave it a half-hearted lift, discovered it weighed too much, and shrugged her shoulders again. She leaned on it and heaved a big sigh.
"I get it," I said. "I've had boyfriends who thought they should plan everything without even asking my opinion. The worst was when my boyfriend thought he should fix all my problems. My problems. And he didn't understand when I was mad that he made up solutions without me."
Cara shoved the smaller disco ball on a shelf. "I know you can take care of yourself, Christine, but isn't it nice when people try to help?"
"There's helping and there's taking the choice out of my hands. If it's my problem, then I'm the one who has to face it." She looked so pained that I added, "But that's just me and I'm way too stubborn."
"I like to think of it as strong," Cara said. "I couldn't face half the things that you've been going through."
I wasn't ready to go back to thinking about Slade or the threats to the club. "How about we add LED lights to the disco ball instead of replacing the mirrors? Might add a little more flash."
Cara smiled. "I'll get someone to help heft this thing down. You just hang out here."
I leaned against the shelf to wait and wondered why Cara looked so nervous. Then I heard Slade's voice, and I jolted upright myself.
"I got this. You go see about that mess with the ice machine." Slade marched back stage and straight up to me. "Need a hand?"
"Nothing urgent," I said, trying to skirt around him. I wasn't ready to be so close to him. It was dim backstage and private and my thoughts were quickly centering on those lips of his.
Slade, on the other hand, seemed worried and he searched my face. "How are you doing?"
I frowned. "Hiding out backstage was not my idea. Cara wanted me to help her with the disco ball."
A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. "So you weren't just back here gossiping? Seems the whole staff is interested in what we did last night."
"We didn't do anything," I reminded Slade.
"Nothing?" He took a step closer.
My eyes locked on his lips, the curve of his smile, and I couldn't help but let out a slow breath. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"What, this?" Slade leaned down and caught my protest in a warm kiss.
My hands slipped up his chest and over the collar of his shirt, fingers seeking the warmth of his skin underneath. I pulled my body up to meet his, inch for inch, and lost my breath to the demands of his lips. Slade responded with a quiet growl. His hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me higher against the wide shelf. There was a place next to the glittering disco ball with enough room for me to sit and pull him closer. He stepped between my legs and fit against me.
Our kiss slipped and I gasped as his teeth nipped my ear before his lips trailed down the side of my neck. I reached my heels behind him and wrapped him closer, the press of our bodies firing up. The warm haze pushed back all my worries and suddenly the serious problems we had seemed very far away. It was hours before the DJ and his crew would arrive to set up, and no one was going to bother us.
Slade was thinking the same thing, his hands sliding down into the back pockets of my jeans. He pulled me forward and caught my breathless moan in another, deeper kiss.
I wanted to let go, I wanted him. Hot desire burned away everything else. I tugged his shirt loose and slipped my hands up against the hard ridges of his stomach.
"Christine, wait," Slade whispered against my lips.
"I don't care where we are, Slade. I want this," I said.
He pulled back and gently lowered me back to the ground. "But you deserve better."
My hands were still flat against his warm flesh but his words chilled me. "What are you saying? You don't want me?"
"No. I'm saying I've brought you nothing but bad luck. I want to clean up the mess I've made." Slade stepped back and jammed his hands in his pockets.
"And then what?" I asked. I tucked my clothes back into place.
Slade frowned. "And then you should find someone good."
He strode away and I fought the urge to drop to the floor. I was the one who kept telling Slade he was no good. I kept reminding him of what he'd done with Balducci and how he still hadn't escaped it. It was all my fault and now I'd driven away the one man who tried to help me. The one man I wanted more than anything.
The thought shook me. I wanted Slade more than I wanted the club. The only thing I wanted first was answers about my sister. Either I had to let that go or I would lose Slade forever.
By the time I forced myself out from backstage, there was a full-on crisis happening behind the bar. One of our wine distributors was arguing about a delivery he'd failed to bring. He claimed the club crowd didn't really go for the higher prices vintages but Cara kept reminding him about our VIP regulars.
"Don't worry," I told the distributor. "You can make up for it on the next order. How about an extra case of those mini sparkling wine?"
He nodded even as Cara fumed. "We'll take that in writing," she said.
I laughed. "I'll go downstairs and pick out bottles for the VIP lounge from our collection."
Cara was so busy hashing out details with the distributor that she just nodded absently at me. I was glad because I felt as if my lips were red and puffy. If anyone looked closely, they'd be able to tell what happened between Slade and I backstage. It was a relief to get past the security posts, down to the basement, and out of sight. I needed to recover and get the hot blush off my cheeks.
I kicked an empty cardboard box and marched around the large main room of the basement in a fury. How could Slade kiss me like that and then reject me? Worse than that, he'd rejected himself for me. I was sick and tired of Slade doing my thinking for me.
"What gives him the right to decide for me?" I asked out loud.
My voice echoed back to me and brought a wave of unease. As I glanced around the cement-walled basement, the wine cellar door creaked open. I should have run. I wanted to run, but my feet were stuck fast to the unfinished floor.
A pale face seemed to hover above nothing, peering out of the doorway between me and the staircase.
Aaron cleared his throat and croaked, "I'm not going to hurt you, Christine. Please believe me."
The words seemed to pain him but as he held up his empty hands, his throat worked hard on another sentence. My heart was racing so hard I was sure I wouldn't hear what he had to say. I took a step forward and Aaron flinched.
I recoiled in fear, every terrifying insinuation I had ever heard about him running through my head at full volume.
"I need your help," Aaron said.
"What?"
He inched closer, arms out to show his was unharmed. Not that he needed a weapon to end my life. He grimaced and tried again, his rusty voice barely registering over my hammering heart. "I'm done with Balducci but I can't get out without your help. No one gets out."
I caught my breath and forced myself to meet Aaron's pale eyes. "Will you help me, too?"
He nodded, a flicker of actual emotion crossing his cool expression. "Yes."