6. Liam

6

LIAM

I ’d never had such a large amount of my body waxed before. My skin was still stinging from the hair being ripped out, but I did look amazing when the technician finished. When I walked out of the room, Val studied me closely. “They did a nice job.”

I frowned. “I went through all that pain and it’s just ‘nice’?”

I felt Val’s deep laugh in my chest. “You look hot as fuck and you know it, but you were already hot. This is simply a cleaner look that sells.”

“So you’re making me into a product?” I knew better than to question him, but the words slipped out. My resentment with everything in my life was keeping me from thinking straight.

“That’s what this is.” He gestured between the two of us. “A business transaction. You know that.”

“Yes, sir.” I needed to remember that so I could stop having thoughts I should never have about a man like Valentino Marchesi, thoughts about what it would take for me to end up in his bed.

The hair salon he took me to was as elegant as the spa where I got waxed. When the cut was finished, I’d stared at myself in the mirror, amazed how much better I looked when it seemed like the stylist had only taken off a little bit of length and freshened up the layers, but my hair looked and felt lighter, and my waves looked sexy instead of chaotic.

Val was staring at me. I couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes, but I was sure it was softer than it should be.

“Why are you doing this?”

He brushed at some non-existent lint on his suit jacket. “Pound has a reputation to keep up. I need you to look like you belong there.”

“Does the club pay for all the dancers to have their hair and waxing done?”

He waved me off. “You ask too many questions.”

I studied him for a moment. He was helping me. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was making this easier for me, making sure I looked as good as I could. By the end of the day, he was going to have spent hundreds, if not thousands, on me. I wanted to suggest that he simply take that money off my debt and let me take care of things. I could’ve gotten all these things for so much less money.

Not this quality, though. There was no way some budget place could make my hair look like this.

I looked in the mirror again. I’d never had a haircut so perfect or so flattering.

“Come on now,” Val said. “You need new clothes.”

“I thought the point of my job was to remove my clothes.”

He frowned. “You have to have something on if you’re going to take it off.”

“But those are costumes. Is that what we’re going to buy?”

He huffed. “No.”

“So you’re talking about regular clothes. Street clothes. I have those.”

“Not the right ones.”

“What do I need them for? I’m going to go to work, then put on a costume and go on stage.”

“You should have a few outfits for when you’re out in the bar. We like everyone to look appropriate.”

I stared at him. “That’s bullshit.”

“Do you want the club to pay for some new clothes or not?”

“I…do?” Who wouldn’t want new, expensive clothes, but there had to be strings attached.

“Then come with me.”

He said it like I had a choice, but I was sure I didn’t.

The first store we entered was one I normally wouldn’t have even window-shopped.

Val picked out several shirts, pants, and blazers as we walked through. I was amazed he could choose so fast.

After gathering ten or so pieces, he handed them to me and gestured toward the dressing rooms. “I want you to show them all to me as you try them on.”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted him like Trevor had, and he grabbed my arm, squeezing so hard I gasped.

“Watch your mouth.”

I looked up at him. This time there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. I saw anger and heat. His hand felt like a brand around me.

“Yes, sir.” My words were soft and compliant.

He smiled. “That’s better.”

I could barely think clearly enough to make it into a dressing room. What was going on? Val had turned down my offer, but now he was treating me like I was his kept man. The haircut and wax had been extravagant but could be explained as part of the job. I doubted it, but it was possible the club paid for that basic maintenance for other dancers. But street clothes? There was no way this was motivated by anything but him wanting to do it for me.

When I’d put on a pair of black pants and a teal T-shirt made of incredibly soft fabric, I stared at myself in the mirror. The clothes fit perfectly. The pants showed off my ass to perfection and the T-shirt was just tight enough to show some muscle definition without being vulgar. How had Val known my size? How did he know how to pick what would look good on me?

As I stared in the mirror thinking about how crazy this day had been, the room started to spin around me.

“Liam?” Val sounded impatient.

“Out in a second.” My voice shook. What was wrong with me?

Shit. I realized I’d never actually eaten anything that morning. I needed to get something in me as soon as I could, or I was going to pass out. How much longer was Val going to want me to be there?

I stepped out of the dressing room, and he smiled. “I approve.”

“I’ll bring in plenty of customers for you.”

He frowned. “Turn around.”

I started the protest, but what was the point? He already knew he could make me do whatever he wanted to.

I spun around too fast, and the room began to whirl again. Val must have noticed that I was unsteady on my feet. “What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t eaten today. I just started to feel a little light-headed.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied me. “How long has it been since you’ve had something to eat?”

I didn’t want to answer, but I knew I didn’t have a choice. “I had lunch yesterday. I was trying to save my money.”

“What did you eat then?”

I didn’t want to tell him the truth, but somehow I was sure he’d know if I was lying. “A peanut butter sandwich.”

His eyes widened. “And before that?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” I tried not the think about how little I was eating lately.

Val stomped into the dressing room I’d vacated and grabbed the rest of the clothes, including my old ones. “We’re buying all of these, then we’re going to lunch.”

“But you don’t even know if those fit, or how they look on me.”

“The ones you have on fit perfectly; these will too, and you’ll look just as good in them.”

I forced myself not to let the compliment distract me. “But these haven’t been paid for.” I pointed to what I was wearing.

“I’m going to take care of that. Come with me.”

We went to the register where he asked for a pair of scissors so he could cut the tags from the clothes I was wearing. As his hands brushed against my waist to get the tag from the pants, I sucked in my breath. The warmth of his touch radiated through my clothes, and I wished he was touching my bare skin.

That was a very dangerous thought.

You offered yourself to him.

I offered a transaction, but this…whatever I was feeling wasn’t supposed to be part of it. I didn’t need to do anything but focus on paying off the loan as fast as I could. Then I needed to walk away and never see Valentino Marchesi again.