02~ Red Lights

DELILAH

The way he stared at me made my skin prickle, like I was being watched—no, studied. It felt as though he recognized me, even with the mask shielding my face. I kept my expression calm, acting as if I hadn’t noticed him. He can’t possibly know it’s me… right?

I stepped off the stage, letting the next dancer take over, and headed to the bar. I ordered a non-alcoholic wine, not wanting to risk losing control tonight. I needed my wits sharp. As I scanned the room, I spotted Mrs. Mills, searching the crowd with a look that told me she was after someone.

“Mrs. Mills!” I called, waving my hand.

She smiled and made her way over. “You’re up for the next show,” she informed me, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Again?” I asked, caught off guard. “I thought Tony was taking that slot.”

“Oh.” She blinked, clearly forgetting her own schedule. “You’re right. You’ll go after him.”

I sighed, nodding. “That’s fine with me.”

Mrs. Mills leaned against the counter, her eyes flicking around the crowded club. “Busy night, huh? Big money flowing in. I’m not complaining.” I smirked.

“Is this your busiest night so far?” I asked.

“Not quite. Eight months ago, we had a night like this. But then... you remember the murder?” Her voice dropped, the light in her eyes dimming. “Lost a lot of customers and staff after that.”

“Can’t blame them for wanting to stay alive,” I muttered, taking another sip of my wine.

She shrugged. “It took me months to get things back to normal.” Then, as if she hadn’t just mentioned a murder, she grinned and nodded toward someone in the crowd. “Looks like you’ve got a special guest tonight.”

I followed her gaze, my heart freezing in my chest. Not him. Not...now.

“Mr. Kimber. California’s very own billionaire,” she said, practically purring his name.

Mr. Kimber? "Mom’s boss?" Panic surged through my body like ice water. "I’m so dead."

I stiffened, my face draining of color beneath the mask. “No, Mrs. Mills, please—” My voice came out strained, but she was already smirking at me, too late to stop whatever was happening.

“Too late, darling. He’s coming over,” she said with a glint in her eye.

“What?!” I nearly yelped, hearing the echo of my own panic in my head. This couldn’t be happening. Not tonight.

Mrs. Mills gave me a quick wink before sauntering off, leaving me to face him alone. My heart hammered against my ribs as Mr. Kimber approached, that infamous crooked smile on his face. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto mine like a predator who had found his prey.

*No, no, no. This isn’t real. Please, let this not be real.*

He was getting closer, and with every step, I felt like I was being dragged deeper into a nightmare. The room felt suffocating, my breaths shallow and shaky. I tried to focus on the wine glass in front of me, gripping it tightly, hoping I could melt into the background.

But then his voice, smooth and dangerous, cut through the noise. “Mind if I join?”

I swallowed hard, my nerves fraying at the edges. There was no way out. I looked up, plastering on the best smile I could manage. “Sure.”

He slid onto the stool beside me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Nice outfit,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made me want to disappear.

“Nice suit,” I replied, my voice barely audible. I raised my glass, taking another sip to hide the tremble in my hands.

The bartender handed him a glass of non-alcoholic wine, the same as mine. Great. He wasn’t drinking either, which meant he was fully aware of everything going on. No chance of him getting distracted or sloppy.

“So, do you work here often?” His voice was casual, but the intensity in his eyes made the question feel loaded.

I forced a laugh. “Not really. Only when they call me in.” I was trying to sound indifferent, but my voice cracked slightly. I took another sip, hoping it would calm the storm brewing inside me.

Mrs. Mills glanced over at me from across the room, her expression full of meaning. "What the hell are you doing?" she mouthed, and I shot her a frantic look. *I don’t know!*

Mr. Kimber leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming. “Which days do you work?”

*Please, just stop asking questions.* The words echoed in my head. “Mostly weekends,” I answered, trying to sound bored, like I couldn’t care less about this conversation.

But he wasn’t buying it. His eyes flicked over my face, lingering on every detail. My cheeks burned, and I was suddenly grateful for the dim red lighting in the club. At least it hid the fact that I was blushing like an idiot.

I stared down at the counter, willing myself to disappear. Maybe if I stayed still long enough, he’d get bored and leave. Or, more likely, he’d think I was too weird to bother with. Either way, I wanted out of this situation.

But then his face appeared in my line of vision, his smirk more amused than before. He leaned in, so close that his breath brushed against my skin. “Hiding from something, love?”

My heart practically stopped. His words slithered into my ears, making my stomach twist. He knew. Or at least, he suspected something. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up with this act.