A Beautiful Distraction(10)

But the only back she stepped on was her own.

And she wore stilettos.

One act of rebellion and her family threw her out on her ass without so much as a “It’s been a fun seventeen years; have a great life.” Or hell, she would have even settled for “Good luck out in the big bad world with nothing but the hundred bucks in your pocket and the clothes in your duffel.” But they had just stared at her with narrowed eyes and tight lips as they simply confiscated everything they had ever provided her with and slammed the door in her face.

She grinned.

If only they could see her now. They wouldn’t know whether to die from mortification at her career choice or drop to their knees and kiss her designer shoes and perfectly pedicured toes. But she had absolutely no plan on traversing down that little scenario. Point-blank, her family was dead to her. Nothing more than the hatred in her veins and the example of what kind of person she would never become locked into her memory. She may manifest the same aspiration for luxury as her parents, but it didn’t consume her. It did not define her.

She’d concede she mirrored them on the outside, but she would never be them on the inside.

Not if she could help it.

Stepping gracefully between tables of chatting patrons, Fallon made her way to the front of the club, where a spiral staircase led to the second-floor VIP area. Inhaling a serene breath into her lungs, she climbed the black marble staircase. The tables at the top of the VIP landing were occupied to capacity, and a thick aroma of sleaze saturated the previously healthy quality of oxygen. She was grateful for that breath she’d taken.

Commanding her body to conceal her disgust, she pulled her shoulders back and added a little extra sway into her step.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite lady,” a tall, lean man said from the table situated in the middle of the landing.

Reaching into the stockpile she had stowed away in her mind, she easily pulled out her smile. The one that took years to perfect. This smile had several variations that she had learned were key to securing her control. She just needed to observe and learn which smile to use when.

“Hello, Senator,” she replied warmly as she rounded his table and paused elegantly in front of him. “You gentlemen enjoying yourselves? Are my girls taking good care of you?” she asked, smiling at Amelia, who had just appeared at the table with another round of specialty drinks for the men. Amelia was one of her best waitresses, and she also was the most brazenly flirtatious. Typically, Fallon disapproved of the blatant, aggressive flirting and touching of her customers. Her girls were sensual and alluring—and they were for eyes only. But Amelia liked to push the limitations. She cooed and sighed and swooned at all the opportune times to receive a fat tip at the end of the night, but she also brushed hands, rubbed thighs, and any and all other forms of subtle physical contact.

So, yep, Amelia was a little slutty. No harm in a woman knowing what she wanted and when she wanted it. Besides, Fallon kept a tight rein on her, and Amelia knew better than to cross her.

The senator cocked his head to the side and Fallon watched as his retinas singed Amelia’s clothing as if he had heat vision, looking at her as if every article of clothing had been seared from her body and she was standing naked in front of him. Subtlety obviously wasn’t something he practiced, and he apparently had a Superman complex.

“Yes,” he said, licking his lips, causing Fallon to force away the shudder that formed in her muscles. “She’s doing a great job.”

Amelia’s hand darted out and rested on the senator’s bicep and she giggled softly as if rehearsed—which it totally was.

“So, Miss Kelly, are you going to grace us with your talent tonight?” the short, bald man who was sitting next to the senator asked. She thought he was his attorney, but she couldn’t remember for sure. They all started blending together after a while. Plain. Arrogant. Perverted.

And this was coming from a woman who owned a burlesque club. Perversion was her specialty.

A cluster of disappointed sighs rang through the space around the table when Fallon cast her eyes to the ground and let loose a timid smile. She wasn’t the least bit modest, but men like this enjoyed watching a woman shrink in their presence. They were vultures. They fed off intimidation and insecurities. And they were playing right into Fallon’s hand. She knew how to work this group. They thought they held the power. They were wrong.

Her long, thick lashes brushed beneath her sculpted eyebrows as she meekly lifted her eyes back to them and pulled yet another smile from her stockpile—only this one was tauntingly sensual and just a little bit shy.