It's my first night back at Penthouse, and the theme, Midnight Safari, is perfect since the makeup hides the stitches on my cheek and the bruising that remains on my face. Each dancer represents a different animal, and I was assigned the king of the jungle. Before going on stage, my curly hair was teased and sprayed to achieve a fluffy round mane to complement the lion makeup on my face. 

Everything from our costumes to the atmosphere feels very Circ de Soleil as aerial artists swing across the dancefloor doing trapeze, and use silks that cascade from the ceiling to do spins and twists. It's incredible, and now I can't help but wonder if I set my sights too narrow by placing all my bets on The San Francisco Ballet Company. What if I need to dream bigger and take a risk with broader goals? Bianca, the Brazilian dancer who was hired at the same time as me, said there are bigger, more prestigious clubs in Las Vegas that are known to catapult careers. 

Maybe that's what I need? A change of pace and scenery to reset my goals. Penthouse is fun, but I don't want to work here forever like Jillian and the other girls. Closing my eyes, I cling to the daydream of being part of a large production in Vegas and performing for sold-out shows. 

I don't need Kyle, and I don't need Enzo or his money...

But who am I kidding?

Tonight, I boogie on a shared platform in the center of the dancefloor with three other dancers, and despite the sea of handsome faces, I search for one in particular. 

Except, he's not sitting in his usual VIP booth. Nor is he anywhere else, which is odd since this is where Enzo takes clients every Thursday after business dinners. 

So, where can he be?

Shaking my head, I remind myself that it doesn't matter, and to focus on the choreographed steps Tina went over with us this week. However, right as I push one man out of my thoughts, another one enters. Across the crowd, my brother climbs the stairs to the VIP section, holding a tray of cocktails. I furrow my brows because Lucas rarely leaves the bar when it's busy, and he also never delivers drinks.

He moves through guests, balancing the drink tray high above his head without spilling a single drop, then eventually stops in front of a booth where Augusta Abramovitz's little sister, Jocelyn, sits, and gracefully brings the tray back down to waist level. The heiress is surrounded by bodyguards, and one, in particular, seems to be the shot-caller of the group. The gigantic, bulky man says something to the bodyguards, and they allow my brother to approach.

Not only does he set the tray down, but he also takes a seat and looks comfortable doing it. 

Too bad I'm not a lip reader because then I would know what he and Jocelyn are saying as they lean into each other. Whatever it is, she seems irritated as she tosses her hands in the air and rolls her eyes like she's had enough. Lucas nods, then stands and bumps knuckles with the big guy before leaving the booth. 

If only I could turn back time and unlearn my brother's secret. 

Did Jocelyn just give him another target to kill? An image of Lucas holding a gun to someone's head as they plead for their life, and him pulling the trigger, enters my mind. Despite how scorching hot the dancefloor is, a shiver ripples down my back.

And I'm going to be sick.

"I need a bathroom break," I say to the dancer next to me, and hop off the platform, nearly missing the step.

After squeezing through the crowd, I enter the restroom where I dry heave for a solid ten minutes. I pushed my brother for the truth, and now I have it, but I can't stomach it. Gathering myself with a deep breath, I exit the bathroom stall, fluff my lion's mane in the mirror, and roll my shoulders back.

"Get it together, Mara. Tonight you're a dancing queen." 

Shaking off the bad vibes, I leave the restroom but stumble right into the man I've been longing for. His hands go to my elbows to steady me, and when our eyes meet, my heart swells. 

Why must Enzo Esposito look and smell so damn good?

"Hi," he says as if he's delightfully surprised to see me, and that one word has my cheeks growing warm with a blush. 

"Hey." I straighten myself.

"A lion." He fingers one of my curls. "It's perfect for you."

Right as I'm about to respond, the bathroom door whacks my butt, causing me to lurch forward into Enzo's chest with an oomph. A woman around my age stumbles out and doesn't bother to apologize.

"En...zo..." she slurs with a laugh. "Give me a hand, babe."

Babe? 

Who the hell does she think she is! I take in the sparkling bracelet on her wrist, and the expensive designer dress. Did Enzo replace me? My gaze shoots at him like poisonous darts. He sure moves on fast. The woman is a mess as she stumbles past me and clings to him. However, Enzo looks uncomfortable as he adjusts the lapels of his suit jacket that she's stretching with her grabby hands. 

"Sydney, can you wait over there, please?" he says.

"Can we get tacos?"

"Sure. Now, wait over there while I finish talking to my friend."

Friend? 

So, now I'm his friend? My eyes widen at the audacity.

"No, thanks," I scoff, but Enzo doesn't let me get past him.

"Mara, this isn't what it looks like."

"I don't care." I weave around him.

"Christ, woman, you're so stubborn!" he mutters and that halts me in my tracks.

Are we fighting?

When I glance over my shoulder, Enzo is rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he's had a hell of a day. Being the stubborn woman I am, I turn around with my hands on my hips.

"Alright then, Mr. Esposito. Who's your little friend?" I motion toward the drunk Barbie swaying on her stilettos as she holds a mirror up to her face while slathering on lip gloss.

"She's my cousin. One of my uncle Sammy's daughters," he says, and I relax my rigid shoulders.

"Oh."

"She texted me and asked me to come get her. As you can see she's in no shape to be alone and her friends ditched her."

"Oh."

Enzo steps closer and dips his head to look me directly in the eyes. "Did you think I replaced you?"

"No..." My shoulders shrink as I dodge his stare.

He laughs, "I think you did."

"Oh, hush!" I smack his chest, but he catches my hand and pulls me into an embrace. 

It's unexpected, so I tense, but then his warm words caress my ear.

"It's good to see you," he says, and my entire body relaxes. 

Damn it. I've missed him.

He steps back, sliding his palms down my arms and to my hands, where he holds them while gazing at me with that wonderful smile I love so much.

"Are you working next weekend?"

"No... why?" I narrow my eyes playfully.

"There's this three-day business thing I have to go to in Las Vegas, and would love for you to come." 

My jaw drops. "Vegas?" 

"Yes. We'd catch a redeye late Thursday night, and leave on Sunday evening." 

"I swear the universe is listening," I laugh. "Earlier, my coworker told me about the dancing opportunities in Vegas and it got me thinking."

"Looking to expand your horizons?" Enzo's eyes brighten with a sudden excitement. "Hey, we should check out a show!" He whips out his phone and begins typing. "...Tickets for Circ de Soleil can't be that expensive."

I inhale sharply because they are very expensive. So, I clasp his phone. "You don't have to do that."

"Sure I do. This is how I convince you to come with me." He winks, and a smile spreads across my face. 

Ugh. I practically have my bags packed! 

"Alright, Enzo. I'll go with you. If you insist." 

"I do." He leans in and kisses my temple. "It was good seeing you, but now I have to take my drunk cousin home."

We look over at her, and the woman is sloppily sucking face with another drunk girl. Enzo facepalms himself but walks over and peels her away.

"Syd, it's time to go."

"Why?" she says with beads of slobber stretching from the girl's mouth to hers.

"Let's get you home," he sighs.

"Can my new friend come with us to get tacos?" 

"No." He hoists Sydney's elbow over his shoulder and hooks his arm around her waist. "Say goodbye to your new friend."

"Byeee." 

Enzo glances back at me and mouths, I'll call you. 

My chest swells as it clings to those words. 

◇◇◇

It's Monday, and I'm shopping for groceries, but find myself spaced out as I think about Enzo. He hasn't called like he said he would. Perhaps he's swamped with work. Sighing, I add peaches to a bag, tie it off, and toss it into my cart. 

"Well, hello beautiful." 

The familiar deep rasp freezes me from pushing the cart forward. I turn to face Kyle, and he's standing there with a basket hooked in the crook of his elbow. He's smiling handsomely and looks like he stepped out of a magazine with his wind-swept hair and sun-kissed skin. Why must he be so perfect and hot?

"Did I startle you?" Kyle asks.

"I was just daydreaming," I laugh and nervously tuck a curl behind my ear. "Always spacing out." 

"Mara, I'm..." Kyle steps closer, and his shoulders sag with an exhale. "I'm sorry about my behavior last time we got together. I was hesitant about coming over here, but I figured I should rip the bandaid off and say hi. Truthfully, I'm embarrassed because I was an asshole for pushing your boundaries and I'm sorry."

"Oh..." I adjust my purse, not expecting an apology. "It's ok."

"No, it's not. I was an asshole. Allow me to make it up to you?"

"Hmm..." 

"Just dinner. Nothing crazy, I promise."

There's sincerity in his eyes, so I do a quick run-down: dinner is harmless, and it's not like I'd be cheating on Enzo since we're not even together. He's also made it clear he doesn't want anything sexual or romantic with me. So, it would be a waste to pine after a man I'll never get to have. Plus, Enzo did say he's ok with me dating around, so I'm well within my right to go to dinner with the handsome specimen in front of me.

"Alright," I say.

"How about tonight?"

"Sure." I smile.

"Perfect. Meet me at six at Goat Hill Pizza?"

My eyes brighten. "I love that place!"

"Good. Then it's settled. I'll see you at six, beautiful."

And just like that, two of the men in my life have charmed their way back in. I blast off a text to Anika and stare at the screen waiting for a reply. Typing dots appear, then disappear, and I begin chewing my manicure. She doesn't approve of me going to dinner with Kyle, I just know it. But then a message comes through.

Anika: Be careful. XO

A few hours later, I'm casually dolled up in a sundress and sandals and walk into the restaurant. I text Kyle that I have arrived but there isn't a response so I wait on a bench since the hostess says no one by the name of Kyle Cameron has checked in yet. Ten minutes pass, and I'm starting to think I got stood up when a bundle of flowers appears in front of me. 

It's Kyle, and my jaw almost drops from how unfair his gorgeousness is. He went from wind-blown sexy surfer to the cover of GQ Magazine, which makes me feel a little underdressed. 

"Sorry I'm late, but I hope these makeup for it." He smiles. "You like lilies, right?"

"I do." I bring them to my nose to smell their sweet scent, but I don't recall ever mentioning they're my favorite. "I love them." 

"Shall we go to our table?" He holds out his palm, and part of me thinks it's too soon to go walking hand in hand. However, I thread my fingers through his anyway and stand. "You look amazing, Mara."

"Thank you."

"I mean, you always do, but there's something about you today."

"Like what?" I laugh.

"I don't know, but I plan to find out." He kisses my cheek.

That causes butterflies to flap in my belly, and when he places his hand on my lower back, I can practically feel the warmth of his palm radiate down into my panties. Why must he have this effect on me? Anika thinks it's because Kyle is the first guy I've slept with since becoming single, so my mind equates him with sex. Amazing sex. 

Maybe she's right.

Maybe my relationship with him is a phase everyone goes through after ending a long relationship. TikTok calls it a slut phase, but I try to take things on there with a grain of salt.

We sit and have our order taken, then transition into a conversation about the usual ice-breaking topics, like work. However, Kyle doesn't elaborate much on his side. Then the appetizer arrives, and we jump right into dipping mozzarella sticks in the marinara, which prompts Kyle to joke about going to Italy together. We plot an imaginary trip where we rent a sporty car and explore the Amalfi Coast. 

Amid our laughing, I realize how normal it feels to chat with Kyle like we've been friends for years, and it makes me believe what happened the other night is something we can move past—whether as friends or... lovers.

"So, honestly, what have you been up to aside from work?" Kyle asks.

"Hanging out with friends, nothing too interesting, but what about you? How's that deal going with Hilton Head?"

He quirks a brow. "Hilton Head?"

"You mentioned you went there to scout a potential location for a new hotel."

"Oh, right!" Kyle shakes his head with a slight laugh. "Um, it's going fine. It's a whole process. Scout the location, arrange a deal, present the deal, negotiate, etc. A bunch of boring stuff, but nothing concrete yet."

"It's still pretty cool that you get to scout locations in gorgeous places. Must be fun jet-setting around."

"It is and isn't." Kyle teeters his head. Our pizza arrives, so I clear space on the table. "I actually kind of hate having to travel everywhere while my dad gets to sip daiquiris poolside." 

"I suppose that's just how it is, right? We have to pay our dues before we can enjoy the fruits of our labor." 

"I suppose, but enough boring work talk. I want to know something more exciting," he says.

"Like what?"

"Like what color your panties are." He pulls a slice onto his plate, the gooey cheese stretching.

"I... Uh.."

Kyle licks marinara sauce off his thumb and glances up like he'd prefer licking me, and there's a sudden flush of heat under my dress. I reach for the ice water and take a sip to cool myself down, but a memory of him using his teeth to tug my underwear enters my mind like a lightning bolt. He smiles devilishly as if he knows what he's doing to me.

I might need to splash our entire pitcher of beer on myself.

"Kyle..." I look away sheepishly.

"Come on, Mara. Just a little hint. I'm dying to know. Unless..." He leans in and whispers, "You're not wearing panties."

The gulp of water I swallow goes down like a baseball, so I clear my throat and pat my neck. "Um..."

"Just a little hint. You know you want to tell me." He winks, and he's right. 

If it were anyone else, I'd tell them to piss off, but from Kyle, it's thrilling—as if with him, I get to be daring and throw caution to the wind when usually I wouldn't.

"Fine." I lean in and whisper, "A white bra, and white cotton panties with lace trim."

"Oh my god..." He bites his knuckles, and I giggle. "So hot. Alright. Thank you. You made my night."

"You're welcome?" 

"Oh, very welcome. Knowing you're wearing some lace under that sexy dress... yeah, you've made my night." 

"It's just a sundress," I laugh.

"Oh, it's more than a sundress. It's a bring me to my knees and have me begging to do whatever you wish, dress."

"That easy, huh?"

"I'm a simple man, Mara. It doesn't take much to excite me."

"Alright," I laugh and take a bite of pizza, but now I can't stop thinking about Kyle undressing me.

There's a bathroom sign across the restaurant and if I had more guts I'd ask him to meet me in there, but I'm not that adventurous. Then it hits me. I'm not like this around Enzo. When we're together, our connection is more emotional, and I feel his deep respect. Whereas with Kyle it's all sexual. There's something empty about that. If Keira were here, she'd smack my arm and tell me to enjoy having wild sex, whereas Anika would rub my shoulder lovingly and say to follow my heart. 

But what if my heart is messed up?

What if when Josh broke it, he also fractured the part of me that wants true connection because getting close to someone means getting hurt again? So, instead, I have sex with Kyle since it doesn't have to be serious.

I could also be overthinking things.

We finish our pizza, and share some dessert, and Kyle pays the tab before we leave the restaurant holding hands. We're only a few feet outside when he presses me against the building and kisses me. Prior to our date, I would have politely rejected it, but after spending dinner with sexual tension that can be cut with a knife, I welcome his mouth. His hands slide from my face down to my waist where he squeezes before gliding them to my back and holding me so close I can feel the arousal growing in his pants.

The hunger in our kiss intensifies, but Kyle gradually pulls away, places his hand on my chest, and closes his eyes.

"We... should probably stop."

"But—"

"And go to my place," he finishes. 

"I love that idea."

"Let me walk you to your car, and you can follow me home."

Threading our fingers, we continue down the block to my car, and my entire body is buzzing, knowing I'm about to be sent into orgasmic oblivion. However, Kyle's pace slows, and he points.

"What the heck happened there?"

Looking ahead, I spot my car and on the windshield, in big, drippy red letters, it says, I'm watching you, slut.

I release Kyle's hand with a shriek and rush to the car. Shards of glass are all over the sidewalk, and whoever defaced my windshield has left a gift. I reach inside the broken window and pull out a stuffed doll dressed as a ballerina.

There's a knife stabbed through it. 

A cry crawls up my throat and releases with a strangle as tears begin to fall. Kyle pulls me into his arms. 

This is a warning, but from who?