When our eyes pull apart, my irises rove over Liam, taking in every detail. His rounded jaw is covered in what I'd guess to be about a week's worth of scruff. It's a mixture of coppery brown and just a couple of shades lighter than his dark unruly hair.

His gaze is still guarded and drawn together and the most fascinating feature about him. That chameleonic ability to mask his thoughts and feelings.

I probably admire that because I could never do it. What I think and what I feel is always written all over me.

Those emerald eyes harden what would otherwise be a soft and almost boyish face. There's something almost familiar about them, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Do I see the sadness I carry within too, perhaps?

It doesn't seem possible, but it's difficult to tell. At present, they are drifting around my earlobes, my neck, my entire body.

It isn't a blatantly sexual glance, not at all. In fact, it feels more like an assessment.

I can't get a read on his thoughts, which is unusual for me. This man is growing more mysterious by the second.

"One dance, sweetheart," he repeats. "That's all ye'll get."

We stand up and Liam guides me out the door and down the hall. Exactly where I want to be. To hide in plain sight.

The burly bouncer opens the door for us and I get a glimpse of the VIP area. It's an intimate setting, dark with nice leather seats around the stage. It's nothing like the studio where I had my belly dancing lessons, but then again, of course, it's not intended to be. This private show is a place for the men of the Murphy syndicate to come and unwind. Apart from them, the only other invitees are their business associates, which means they must be Russians or Albanians, waiting for Kieran to arrive, for the meeting to begin. Also, most likely there is an occasional politician, lawyer, or other prominent figures they're greasing the palms of. This is exactly where I need to be. It's a treasure trove of information.

The emcee is shutting down the lights and overhead speakers.

"Hold off," Liam tells him. "I've got an audition."

The man behind the podium eyes me off with curiosity and obvious interest. "You want me to stick around?"

"No," Liam replies in a clipped tone.

Thank God.

The other guy is crestfallen as he walks towards the back without a word. I smirk and pull out my cell phone. "I've got my own music anyway."

Kieran's business associates lean forth with interest, their eyes glimmering with hunger. A scattered clap here and there breaks the tense silence.

"Carry on then." Liam takes a seat in front of the stage and stretches out his legs while he waits. He's playing his part well.

I want to prove I'm genuine, so I know I'll have to pull out all the stops. I decide to implement my belly dancing movements, with a dose of freestyle. I think organic movement will look sexier than if I'm too much in my head. While I'm confident in my dancing skills, this stuff is a completely different ballgame.

Those are things I never had time to want. When every day was a game of survival, I didn't want anyone else to care. Because if they cared that meant I could lose them too. I'm not good at this stuff. I don't know how to be sweet or seductive. But I know what I want, and I'm determined. I hope that will carry me through.

I plug in my iPod and cue up the song I've chosen. Where Have You Been by Rihanna. I want to keep Liam guessing. I need to be an enigma. A confusing dichotomy of shy and sweet and hard and tough. Liam lives in a dark world. Even if I am one, he doesn't want a pop princess up on stage. Or a nurse. None of them do.

I shimmy out of my skirt and leather jacket, leaving only the strappy leather ensemble covering my body while he watches. When I steal a glance at him, I can't tell what the hell he's thinking. His face is a steel mask of indifference, and it's too dark to see if he's sporting a hard on. I temper my nerves and close my eyes as I start to move.

I'm just going to pretend he isn't there. Seems the best way to do it. I do some of the customary stage crawling and a lot of hip gyrating, walking around the pole very slowly and a few little leg tricks before I move on to the bigger stuff. I'm confident that as long as I own what I'm doing and believe in it, it will shine through. I have the strength and coordination to pull out a couple of the big guns. I do some aerial inverts, a Chinese flagpole, and a boomerang.

When the song finishes and I open my eyes, Liam is still there, but this time he can't hide the heat in his eyes. He's burning a path over my every curve and valley, feasting on me like he's seriously considering taking me right here. He's not the only one with such a glare.

"So what do you think?" I ask shyly.

"I think yer doing a bang up job," he admits out loud, while the men around him hoot and holler. "Carry on."

I smile and get down on my hands and knees, crawling across the stage. The next song on my iPod is Gypsy by Shakira. I flip my hair around and do a few floor tricks up close and personal to give him a nice little show from his vantage point down below. Lots of back arches and hip gyrating. The stuff that I hope the men just won't be able to look away from.

Something else my mother taught me comes to mind. Men love an ego boost.

"I like your shirt." I crawl closer to the edge and let my eyes drop. "It looks so good on you, Liam"

He laughs again, but it's not in amusement.

"Oh, ye flatter me, sweetheart. Fancy it, do you? Would ye like me to take it off for ye?"

"Tempting." I flop onto my stomach and move into a shoulder stand before melting into a backbend. "So very tempting Mr. Cavanaugh. But the thing about me is that I'm fragile. I need to be admired from afar. If you touch me, you could break me."

My words cause the darkness to return to his face. I thought we were playing a pretend-game, just putting on a show for all these men to relax them, to find me non-threatening. That it was nothing but banter, or my poor attempt at one but then I glimpse something else beneath. Something I wasn't expecting. Grief so raw and real, it feels like I'm looking in a mirror.

For a strange moment, I feel connected to Liam. His pain draws mine out like a magnet, and our eyes lock onto each other, linking us together in an unexpected way. This time, it's me who breaks the trance, quashing down whatever this strange energy is, this...connection, and locking it up tight.

The song comes to an end, and I stop moving.

"Thank you," he says finally, almost with a tone of a reprimand.

I stop and swing my legs over the side of the stage to dangle as I wait for the verdict.

"Fuck me, yer a stubborn wee thing." Liam jerks his eyes away and stands up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. His voice is rough and husky when he speaks, and I have a hard time focusing on the actual words.

He sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

Among the other girls, just for tonight, I could keep up with the pretense that I'm in this for the money. Even if I'm only in it for the information on the Albanian warehouse heist, or some intel about Kieran's business associates.

Nico steps inside the VIP section. He looks around the room with a nervous expression, seeking out Liam. Curious myself, I follow his gaze. He doesn't seem at all comfortable, and I wonder if it's because I put his boss in a hella awkward position, or because of something else.

I'm staring at him with bated breath, waiting and wondering if he's bringing news.

After an imperceptible nod from Liam, Nico shrugs and approaches. He raises his brow at me being at the podium, grunts something unintelligible, and speaks up. "The Captain is here, Boss."

Kieran.

"We'll be right there."

I gulp and descend the stage. Liam hooks his arm under mine. As we step outside the VIP section, a man approaches us, surrounded by three bodyguards. He appears to be in his late fifties, with a salt-and-pepper beard that frames his rugged face. His physique hints at years of discipline.

But it's the knife scar that etches across his face that catches my attention. It adds an air of danger and intrigue to his presence.

"Good evening, Cavanaugh."

"Good evening, my Captain. How have ye fared today?"

"The usual," Kieran replies, eyeing me carefully next, his expression neutral, unreadable.

"Captain, this is..."

"Sandra," I say quickly.

"Yes. Sandra. She has just auditioned." Liam repeats, gesturing towards me. He clears his throat. "Sandra, this is the Captain, Kieran."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kieran," I say, smiling through the nervousness.

The Irish mafia boss is silent for a beat, sizing us both up, before he takes a step forward. He presses his cheek against mine as he graces me with two kisses.

"The pleasure is all mine, Sandra. Welcome to Angels."

I scan Kieran's eyes and face, searching for any hint of familiarity, and to my regret, I do find it. The piercing gaze, the strong jawline, the way his brow furrows right now when deep in thought.

Something inside me stirs, a recognition I can't ignore. I see fragments of myself reflected in a man who stands before me. A mix of emotions swirl within, both unsettling and strangely comforting. I prefer knowing the truth to not knowing it.

His head snaps at Liam. "I'm pleased with the location information you have provided, Cavanaugh. It seems legit. Well well, you can learn from your mistakes after all." Kieran sucks in a small breath. "That does not, however, diminish the colossal screw up which allowed a certain party to steal the prize right under our noses. Had you not done that, there would have been no need for...These extra steps."

Liam lowers his head, and his pained eyes send a pang of unease to my chest.

"However, there is a business meeting we must attend. We will discuss this in detail later. I expect you to join the table as soon as you can," Kieran says, then faces me.

"Sandra," he hums, then nods, eyeing me once more before walking away.

I can't tell what opinion Kieran Murphy has formed of me, but I have decided I do not care. He might be my biological father, but his assessment of me is the least of my concerns at the moment.

"Jaysus, woman, that was some quick thinking." Liam sighs and shakes his head.

"The Sandra moment?"

"Aye. Had you not thought of that name, Kieran might have suspected something. I must attend the meeting now. Hope to be able to share some information when I return. As fer you, you can try to gather intel from the other dancers. Do be a good girl and behave."

"Why, Mr. Cavanaugh, I am always on my best behavior." I grin, teasing him.

He shakes his head. I have known the man for mere hours, but I really like pushing his buttons, I don't know why.

"One more thing."

I meet his intense gaze with questioning eyes.

"I'd rather not have anyone kill you."

Here it is. The reality of the situation I'm in. I heed his warning for exactly what it is. I simply nod, and this time, I wipe the grin off my face. I can tell by Liam's tone he's dead serious.

"Ye've attracted a lot of attention in your first hour in the club. Don't give anyone reason to harm you, sweetheart."

"I won't." I choke out.

Without another word, Liam takes me past the burly bouncer and into the VIP section, where he points at a blonde petite girl with soft curves.

"That's Siobhan," he says. "She'll be up for a chat. Just tell her you auditioned for pole dancing. I have a meeting to attend now."

I nod and turn to watch him leave. It's strange, but with Liam Cavanaugh walking away from me, my sense of security, too, evaporates.

Perhaps it's because he is the least of all evils in here. As mom used to say, "Better the devil you know, than the devil you don't."

I can't help but wonder if I'll ever hear her voice again.

My heart races as I recall standing before my father. Kieran the Knife Murphy, the infamous mobster.

That's definitely not how I imagined my first dad-daughter meeting would go. The reunion I fashioned in my head was a heartfelt one, filled with my kind father's apologies for missing my entire childhood, presents from his travels, and his promises to make up for lost time.

The reality couldn't be further from the truth.

Anxiety grips me while I ponder the magnitude of his power and influence.

I must observe each of his moves. Study his every action, search for weaknesses. I am determined to bring justice to those affected by his criminal empire.

Yet a sliver of doubt slithers into the corner of my mind.

How can I ever hope to bring down his reign?

He holds the entire city of Dublin in the palm of his hand.