Themed nights at Penthouse have become my favorite. Each month, the event coordinator discusses plans and weekly budgets with Gavin, and from there, she transforms Thursday nights into splendors fit for Las Vegas shows. This time, it’s Into the Cosmos, and the club dazzles as the countless chandeliers glisten and twinkle like stars in an infinite universe. Giant screens flash images of outer space while strobe lights bounce to the music, and servers walk around with jet packs.

But what I love most is my galactic makeup, as if I was kissed by start dust.

The platform I was assigned is near the DJ stage, and every thump of base rattles in my chest. So far, my favorite spot is the VIP section, but Bianca is there tonight, and men stare like they’re imagining her naked. I think she likes it, though. She teases them with sexy hair tosses as she rolls her hips and winks at them over her shoulder. 

They eat it right up.

Enzo, the older gentleman I met a few weeks ago, is up there. He’s with his colleagues again, and they chat in a booth near the balcony, sending puffs of cigar smoke over the edge. The club is packed, forcing guests to dance tightly together and their body heat to rise like mist over an ocean. Yet, despite the sea of faces, my gaze keeps wandering to Enzo’s.

Last week, he slipped me money again. I was dancing and suddenly felt his hand in mine. He nodded and smiled as the words Tiny Dancer curled off his tongue before retreating to the VIP section. Something about it made my stomach flutter. Perhaps it’s his blue eyes. I’ve always been a sucker for the hue.

My attention floats to him again, and he does his usual nod but doesn’t look away. Instead, he inches forward and rests his forearms on the balcony railing, his expensive watch glinting under the flashing lights.

Taking a lesson from Bianca, I put on a show for him, and bounce into an Assamblé but exaggerate it by kicking my leg past my head. Enzo straightens his posture, his eyes narrowing in curiosity, a smile sneaking across his lips as I bring my leg back down and spin around the pole on my platform. However, when I glance at him again, he’s gone. 

Furrowing my brows, I search the crowd of the VIP section, but his salt and pepper sideburns are nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was time for him to leave? Sighing, I close my eyes to refocus. Besides, why do I care where he went? We’ve exchanged twenty words, and he’s at least fifteen years older than me. 

My eyelids fly open when someone brushes my fingers. 

“Did I scare you?” Enzo laughs.

“Yes.”

“What was that move you did?” 

“It was an Assamblé.”

“Ballet?” 

“Ballerina.” I point to my chest, and his smile stretches.

“Tiny dancer...”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” 

“You remind me of those elegant little ballerinas that dance to music when you open a jewelry box.”

“I actually have one of those at home.”

“Do you perform with a company?”

“No.” I drop my gaze to our feet. “I was let go recently due to budget cuts.”

“That’s too bad. I’d pay big money to watch you glide across a stage.”

“You already watch me dance on a stage.”

Enzo leans in, the scent of sweet mint and cognac escaping with his words, “But this isn’t your true element. I want to see you come alive like you did with that Assamblé.” 

“I came alive?” I search his turquoise eyes, outlined by little fine lines. He leans in closer.

“Not just alive. You transcend.”

We’re still a respectful distance apart, yet we might as well be sharing lungs with how intimate this feels. His intoxicating woodsy cologne invades my senses, luring me into thoughts of being in a forest with him pressing me against a tree, skimming his lips across mine. 

My heart rate quickens at that fantasy. 

“It was great chatting with you.” Enzo squeezes my hand and walks away, but I scurry after him.

“What is this?” I hold out the crisp, hundred-dollar bills.

“A tip.”

“I’m not a stripper. Dancers don’t get tips here.”

“Maybe they should when they dance like you.”

I shake my head, crisscrossing my hands. “No one hands out money like this just because.”

“I do.” He shrugs. “And I gave it to you because you deserve kindness.” 

“But you hardly know me.”

“If it offends you, I can take it back.” He reaches for the cash, and I hide it behind me like a child. Lines form around his mouth as he laughs. “Alright. Keep it.”

“I will.” I raise my chin.

“Good. I should get back to my table.” 

“And I should get back to dancing.” 

With a hair toss, I strut away and climb onto my platform, but as much as I try to suppress my shit-eating grin, I can’t. And Enzo knows it as we steal glances when he returns to his table. We play that game where I look away when he looks at me, and he looks away when I look at him. My stomach flutters each time, and my smile grows wider.

I hate it.

He’s too old for me to have a crush. If that’s what this is?

“Mara, what the fuck!?” a familiar voice shouts.

A sharp breath expands in my lungs like shards of glass as Josh shoves his way to me with his upset girlfriend in tow. I haven’t seen him since that fiasco of a night when I discovered he’d been cheating on me. Hannah tugs his sleeve, but Josh swats her hand away and scolds her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“No. What are you doing here, dancing like some stripper!” 

“Excuse me?” My brows fly to my hairline.

“Get down from there! This is embarrassing, Mara.”

“I’m embarrassing?” 

“Josh!” his girlfriend yells at him, but he’s practically foaming at the mouth as he tears off his jacket and hikes onto the platform. I back up, but he throws his jacket around my shoulders and drags me off the platform. We almost land flat on our faces as his drunk self sways with a death grip on my elbow.

“Let go of me!” I try to pry myself free.

“I can’t believe your brother would let you dance here.”

“Lucas didn’t allow anything. I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re a grown-ass woman dancing like some slut at a nightclub!” The booze is heavy on his breath.

“Why are you acting like a jealous boyfriend? You dumped me, remember?” 

“Josh, let’s go!” Hannah tugs, but he ignores her.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to be here with all my friends and see you up there dancing with your ass hanging out?”

"Josh, please go home and leave me alone.” I jerk free, but he snatches my wrist and reels me in.

“Why are you doing this? Are you punishing me?"

"What?"

"I know I cheated," he slurs. "But that doesn't mean you have to resort to stripping to get back at me."

"You're not making any sense! Let me go."

"Fine. Go be a whore on your pole!" he roars with a shove.

"Enough!" I slap him so hard that every bone in my palm reverberates.

Next thing I know, two bouncers are pushing between us, and Josh is being dragged away. Tina glares at me, her arms folded.

“Grab your things and clock out,” she says.

“Wait, I can explain.”

“You’re done for the night. Escort her out, Miguel,” Tina orders a bouncer.

“Please don’t fire me,” I beg.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Mara. Now get her out of here.”

“But—”

“Stop,” Miguel says in my ear. “You’ve caused a scene.”

Glancing around, I finally notice everyone watching us. So I leave the dancefloor with Miguel, my tail tucked between my legs as he guides me to the employee lounge to gather my things. He stands in the doorway like I’m a criminal and he’s a police officer while I pull on my sweats and hook my purse over my shoulder.

This is so humiliating.

We exit the club and reach the front of the building, where people stand around smoking on the sidewalk. I spot Enzo pushing through them, his eyes searching the crowd until they land on me, and relief eases his shoulders. But I freeze. Did he see what happened with Josh? Ugh. I could crawl into a hole and die. That wasn’t my finest moment.

“You know him?” Miguel follows my line of sight.

“Sorta.”

“Are you alright?” Enzo approaches, his blue eyes looking deeply into mine. 

“Yeah, but my pride is wounded.” 

“Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“Yes.” 

“I’ll take you.” Enzo curls his arm around my shoulders and steers me away. “I’ve got this from here, Miguel. Thanks for helping her.”

He ushers me to a black luxury sedan, and a driver jumps out to open our passenger door. We slide inside, and right as I buckle myself in, I remember how you shouldn’t get into a vehicle with strangers. 

Yet, here I am. 

Enzo tells the driver to take me wherever I want, so I rattle off my address, and he pushes a button for a tinted window partition to give us privacy. It’s just a sheet of glass, yet we might as well be inside an Amazon box with how claustrophobic I feel sitting this close to Enzo. Not only does his cologne fill the backseat, but the slightest graze of his arm against mine is electrifying. I rub the goosebumps on my flesh.

“Cold?” He adjusts the dials for the vents and aims them at me.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I ask, and he furrows his brows.

“Mara, I’m beginning to think you surround yourself with assholes.”

“Well, my ex certainly turned out be one...”

"Was that him back there?"

"Unfortunately, yes," I sigh. "And lately, Josh brings out the worst in me. I've never slapped anyone before."

“I'm glad he's your ex then." Enzo shifts to face me. "Do you like working at Penthouse?” 

“I do, but I might not have a job there anymore."

“Hmmm.” He rubs his stubbled jawline, and for the first time, I notice the tattoos etched across his ten fingers. In thin font, it says, Love & Honor. “If I propose something, promise not to get offended?”

My stomach sinks. A proposition? I hope he doesn’t ask me to sleep with him for money. That would ruin his sexy mysteriousness and turn him into the average sleazeball.

“It depends,” I say.

“Alright.” He nods. “I go to various business meetings where I need to make an impression, and many of the men I do business with are old school. They like to make deals with partners who appear… stable.”

“Stable?”

“In a relationship, married, kids—titles that sound like I know how to make long-term commitments.” 

“Ok…”

“What I’m proposing is that you come with me to work events and make me look good for business partners.” 

“I see.” 

“That’s all I would expect, Mara. Just show up with me to these meetings and act like you're happy to be my date.”

“Ok, but what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars each time. How does that sound?” 

“A thou—” I nearly choke and hold my throat. Enzo chuckles.

“Yes. A grand, every time, and all you have to do is show up in a pretty dress.” 

I shake my head. “But why me?”

“Why not you?”

“Because I’m… you’re…”

“Too old for you?”

“Maybe. How old are you?”

“Fifty.”

“You do not look fifty."

"I have a disciplined skincare routine." He grins, smoothing his knuckles across his cheeks. “And how old are you?"

“A whole twenty-six years younger than you.”

He shrugs with a head shake. “I’m not worried about our age difference. So what do you say? Are you interested in my proposal?” 

“Yes!” I blurt, then facepalm myself. Ugh. How desperate do I sound?

“You sure?” he laughs.

I clear my throat and try again. "Yes."

“Good. I have an event tomorrow. Are you available?”

“My calendar is clear.”

We finally pull up to my parent's house, so I unbuckle myself, but I'm unsure how to say goodbye. Do I hug him? Kiss his cheek? Skedaddle like a spaz? Shit. What if he's expecting an invitation to come inside?

"Have a good night, Mara." Enzo extends his hand.

Oh, a friendly handshake it is.

"Night, Enzo."

I exit the car and close the door with a sigh. Maybe he'll kiss me tomorrow on our pretend date. But what am I thinking? I don't want that.

Or maybe I do?