I punch in the final numbers in the calculator to tally up the total and jot it down on the budget sheet. Aria has been making less money these past couple of months and I know it's because I've taken a break from performing. Customers know it's my club and they love that I contribute to my business by working as a stripper. When I step back from that, I guess it looks like I'm being stuck-up or something because most of our locals haven't been coming by. I could just go back to performing but...I don't want to. I don't have much desire to. These past few weeks I feel like I've been sleepwalking and nothing can wake me up. I've been a miserable motherfucker and my entire staff knows it. If I took a minute to be myself I'd feel bad about it but I can't find it in me to care. I don't care about jack-shit.

Except her.

She's been the only thing on mind and it's beyond frustrating. I shouldn't be fantasizing about a pregnant woman. What the hell? Life just got a hell of a lot more serious for her and there's no room for me in it. That much is clear. She's about to be a mother and the last thing she needs is me trailing after her like some lost puppy. Even the thought is degrading. What the fuck is wrong with me? I've never been this guy. I've never been the one to chase and get my heartbroken or whatever the hell this miserable feeling is. I don't fucking like it. It's throwing me off my game and causing me to lash out when the only person I should be pissed off at is myself.

"Damn it." I curse and kick my desk in frustration. I flop back against my seat and rub a hand over my tired eyes. Sleep has been out of the question, too. Even my dreams are taken over with images of wispy blonde hair and startling grey eyes. My Angel. Except she's not mine and she never was and after this, she never will be. The sooner that gets through my head, the better.

"Everything okay, boss?" Sebastian, my right hand man and head of security, asks me as he steps inside the room. He probably heard me kick the desk and came running. He's efficient like that.

"Yeah." I mumble and gesture a lazy hand towards the papers scattered over the desk. "Income is down this month."

"Everyone wants The Knight back in action, huh?"

"Not sure why. We have plenty of talented dancers for entertainment."

"But it's different when the owner of the place is down there with the crowd. They feel closer to you personally and will want to come by more often."

"I know." I agree because it's exactly what I was thinking a few minutes ago. Sebastian is perceptive like me and it's one of the many qualities that makes him kick-ass at his job. "I just need a break."

"The blonde lass has got you all tangled up, hasn't she?" He smiles knowingly, his faint Scottish accent peeking through.

"She's pregnant." I blurt. I don't know why but I'm pretty sure it's because I needed to hear it out loud to have some sense knocked into me. Doesn't work though so that was a total bust.

"Aye." Sebastian nods. "The geeky lad that came with her last time she was here — that's the father, no?"

"Some father." I scoff and my anger boils all over again. Just thinking about him makes me feel murderous beyond belief. It's the same anger I felt when I found out about Aria's abuse. "Fucker walked out on her."

Sebastian's eyes darken. "That won't do. You want me to stroll the streets, see if I can find him? I can talk some sense into him, I'm sure."

The corner of my lips twitch. I know by "talk" he means a thorough ass-kicking and for that, I'm grateful. It's nice to know he has my back beyond our boss-employee relationship. "If it's cool with you, I'd rather have a chat with him myself."

"I'd pay to see that."

"As long as you record it so I can watch it over and over again for my personal satisfaction."

"You got it, boss. Make me a copy, aye?"

I chuckle and bump fists with him, feeling a little bit better. Sebastian is younger than I am, twenty-three years old, and went straight into security after his time serving in the military. He's as prim and proper as they come and he's also insanely loyal. He's been my head of security for a year and he's damn good at his job. He's a bulky motherfucker and just about my height. With his red hair buzzed close to his head and cold, ice-coloured eyes, nobody bothers fucking with him when he's in proximity. The bar fights in this club are slim to none thanks to him. He runs a tight ship.

"You release your personal statement?" He inquires as he goes through his phone.

"This morning."

Since deciding to go pro, I know my story as a club owner and stripper would hit the tabloids so I wanted to release my own statement instead of letting the media make my life sound like something that it's not. Who knows what kind of shit they'd come up with so I took matters into my own hands. I've been training with Coach personally these past two months to prepare for the big leagues and my first pro match will be in another couple of months. The spotlight is bound to be on me soon enough and I'd rather be prepared than not.

"I thought so." He sighs and looks up from the screen. "Paparazzi are flanking the doors."

"Already?"

"Dominic just texted. You better speak to them now before they cause a ruckus."

"Shit."

I guess soon means now. Awesome.

"Make sure those fuckers don't terrorize my club. I don't want the customers being worried."

Sebastian nods and leaves the room as he talks into his headpiece. I open the door to the small supply closet in my office and check myself out on the floor-length mirror nailed on to the door. I straighten my tie out and roll down my sleeves to cover the tattoo sleeve on my right arm. I tuck in my collar and run my hands through my hair before giving one final tug to my jacket. At least I look the part. I hope I can deliver.

I lock up behind me and go down the flight of stairs that connects the top and bottom level. Some of the usual customers flank me to say hello and ask where I've been. I offer half-assed greetings and detangle myself from the women who wrap themselves around me. Like most things in my life recently, I'm just not interested. So I continue weaving my way through the crowd where Sebastian and Dominic take their places on either side of me and together we make our way to the entrance of Aria. I can see the flashes before anything else and I suppress a sigh. I have to remind myself that this comes with the job. I didn't start my business for attention. I prefer to be in the shadows, if anything. But if being in the shadows comes at the cost of my story being wrongfully portrayed, then I have to step up.

As soon as I open the entrance door I'm hit with a thousand and one questions. I can't seem to focus on a single one so I hold up a hand and give the reporters my sternest glare. It's the same look I give my sisters when they're up to something they shouldn't be. The reporters immediately clamp their mouths shut and I try not to let a smile peek through. Works like a fucking charm.

"One at a time." I grunt and my eyes graze over the men and women practically shoving their mics in my face. Only one woman is holding the mic to her body and watching patiently so I point to her. "You."

"Oh, um, okay." She visibly falters but I'm not bothered. It's endearing that she's not a man eater like most reporters. Like I said, I always did have a soft spot for the shy ones. "Do you think you will be taken seriously as a professional boxer when your alter ego is a stripper of all things?"

That's a question I expected and prepared for. "Why wouldn't I be taken seriously? Neither of the two correlate. Just because I'm familiar with the art of entertaining doesn't mean I'm a stranger to the art of a good ass-kicking. As far as I'm concerned, whoever underestimates me in the ring will undoubtedly be the one that loses so I don't have a damn thing to be worried about."

I point to another reporter while the rest furiously jot down my response on their notepads.

"How will you expect to run multiple club franchises and dedicate your time to going pro? One or the other will have to suffer from a lack of your attention."

"More underestimation." I smirk at the reporter who blanches, probably recognizing the verbal humiliation I'm about to deliver. "All of the Aria franchises have been wildly successful and their rates are only getting better. At this point, the Boston location is the only one I personally run since I'm in proximity to it and the rest are run by capable businessmen I hired myself. My work ethic is damn near flawless and that's what's going to help me succeed both inside and outside the ring."

I cross my arms defiantly as the reporter nods and ducks his head. Maybe a few months back I would've shit myself in this situation but I asked Coach to personally train me for this as well. I knew my decision to go pro would definitely be controversial because of how society views the stripping industry and I wanted to be prepared to defend it as well as I could. So far so good.

"Stripping and boxing are worlds apart." A female reporter eyes me with clear interest and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. She has another thing coming if she thinks I'll fall for that. "How did you find yourself in the middle of the two?"

"If you think about it, they're not all that different." I shrug. "Both require a series of movement that you string together in order to reach an end goal. Both require precision and grace in order to be performed correctly. Both are sports that keep you in shape and keep society entertained. What's the difference, really?"

"Well said." She relents with a small smile and I nod back.

"Does your sister ever feel exposed or taken advantage of after you turned her abuse into quality entertainment?"

"I didn't turn her abuse into quality entertainment." My voice, although controlled, is deadly cold and the reporter stupid enough to ask me something like that recoils at the venom in my tone. "Her abuse was used to do good rather than be forgotten or neglected the way our fucked up justice system has a tendency to do. I didn't let the courts just sweep this under the rug and become indifferent to it. I created a safe haven for women who were given the cold shoulder instead of the one thing they needed to get by — a little bit of help. Acknowledgement. The wonderful and powerful women that work for me were given a chance to flourish because they were able to thrive in an environment that's safe. And that's all any victimized woman needs. To feel fucking safe. Especially after going through the kind of horrors we could never imagine so you address them with respect or you get the hell out of my face. Hear me?"

The reporter's jaw sets and he eyes me with disdain. Whatever. I'd humiliate him a thousand times over before I let him disrespect or undermine a woman just because she's a stripper. In no sense of the word does that take away their basic rights as a human being.

"Final question." I point to one last reporter. I have a headache and I'm about one stupid comment away from losing my shit and that's not something I can afford to do. The last thing I want to do is scare any of my girls with violence. As their boss I'm not allowed to be anything except level-headed. They don't need to be triggered or reminded of what they went through.

"Do you think this dual lifestyle you lead will serve as an advantage?" She asks me with a tilt of her head. And I smile because, fucking finally, a question that isn't meant to indirectly shred me from the inside out. I like her.

"Definitely." I nod. "As much as you can love the sport as a fighter, you can only get so far if you do it for yourself or for a cheap thrill. If you have something to fight for, or someone to fight for, it'll reflect in the way you fight. You'll go beyond what the sport teaches you and be taken to the next level. I have a hell of a lot people in my life that I'm doing this for and that's exactly the kind of fuel that's going to take me all the way to the top. So, yeah. I'd say I have a couple of Aces hidden up my sleeve."

"And we look forward to seeing you play them all." She raises her notepad to me and I acknowledge it with a jerk of my chin.

"No more questions. Thanks for coming out." I raise my hand in a wave and turn my back as the flurry of flashes resume.

"You handled that well." Sebastian claps me on the shoulder as soon as we're inside.

I release a large puff of air. "I almost punched half those fuckers. You can tell they're only out for blood."

"You're a newbie. They think you're an easy target and they can't wait to sink their blood-thirsty teeth into you. Don't let them get to you, lad."

"I won't. I know a thing or two about handling bullies. But thank you."

"Anytime." He nods but with his accent it sounds more like "anytame."

I cross the dance floor, fully intent on holing myself out in my office, but a hand on my arm stops me.

"You should perform today." One of my dancers, Crystal, says. That's only her stage name. Her real name is Mikaela and she's been with me before I started my business. She was also a victim of Robbie and I keep a damn close eye on her, even after seven years.

"I'm not feeling it, Crys."

"The locals miss you. It might just put you in a good mood."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Jeez, you're being particularly stubborn." She shakes her head but her eyes are full of sympathy. "Fine, then how about you watch the dancers you so generously pay? You know the vibe here is always uplifting after a performance."

"I don't know..."

"You need some fun in your life, boss. Can you really think of a better place to do that than a freaking nightclub that you own?"

She has a point. I guess I do need to get out of this funk I've been in because my sulking isn't about to change or fix anything. I have no control when it comes to Del and her situation but what I can control is what I do with my life. It's about time I started giving a fuck about it instead of everyone else's.

"Fine." I relent and level her with a serious stare when she claps her hand in victory. "But make it good."

"Do you know who you're talking to?" She places her hands on her hips and tosses me a saucy grin that makes me laugh. Mikaela was a frightened little thing when she first approached me after the abuse petition I sent around campus during our university years. She's come a long way since then. Every time she displays her unapologetic confidence, a sense of pride and gratitude fills me knowing I was part of that. The feeling is rewarding as fuck.

"I'm going to watch from up there." I gesture to the railing on the edge of the short second-floor hallway. My office is the only thing occupying the floor so it's a small and narrow hall, not meant for more than a handful of people to chill at. Mikaela nods and holds up two fingers to signal the number of minutes until her performance. I make my way up the stairs and stand behind the railing, bracing my arms on it and peering out onto the stage. My office is directly opposite to the stage so I have the perfect view from up here.

"Seb." I speak into my headpiece. "Get Nicole to record this performance to put on our site. Locals love Crystal's performances and we could use the extra customers."

The line crackles from the other end before his deep grunt comes through. "Aye, boss."

I lace my fingers together and cross one ankle over the other, getting comfortable. The lights suddenly dim and a large roar rises from the crowd. Goosebumps break out over my arms and I hold back a shudder. Mikaela was right — if anything can uplift my spirits, it's this. The only other place that can bring me this feeling is when I'm in the ring and about to fight. Like I said, the two aren't all that different.

"What up people of Aria?" Lion, my main MC, booms into the mic. The crowd responds with cheers even louder than before. Lion grins and holds up a hand to signal for everyone to settle down. "We're about to get this Friday night started. To kick us off, we have a fan-favourite for you all. Give it up for yours truly, Crystal!"

Hoots and wolf-whistles accompany the cheering this time as bright lights wash over the stage and draw everyone's attention to it. Colourful spotlights travel all across the stage before coming together on one spot that a shadowy figure walks into. Crystal raises her arms above her head and the only thing you can make out are the glittery pieces on her stage dress. The rest of her is hidden by the darkness and her figure begins to move fluidly to the song "Entertainer" by Zayn Malik.

Crystal has experience in ballet and gymnastics so her performance is nothing short of riveting. Spins and low dips flow together sensually as she dances in the dark. A huge luminescent hoop is lowered from the top of the stage and within Crystal's reach. She grabs on to it and sits herself in the middle of it, then pushes her legs off as if she's on a swing. The hoop travels from one end of the stage to the other in large swoops and Crystal throws her head back, her long hair trailing behind her. Mid-swing, she stands up and keeps one leg on the hoop while the other stretches up behind her until her foot is touching her forehead. The audience roars in approval and I clap along. She never fails to amaze me. Her foot leaves her forehead and she lowers her leg to hip-level, stretching it out beside her and pushing her weight so that the hoop starts spinning in circles.

Two smaller hoops are lowered on either side of the big hoop and Crystal jumps to grab onto one of them. She swings forward until she reaches the other hoop and captures it, flipping her body over the hoop then back down. The large hoop, now in the middle, is used as leverage as Crystal holds onto it with one hand and lets her legs falls so she swings right through the large hoop and up again until she's grabbing the smaller hoop on the other side. Back and forth she goes between all three hoops with twisty and fluid movements that would break me in half if I tried them. The crowd is going absolutely insane for her and I don't blame them. She's utterly captivating and also my best dancer. As the song comes to an end, she jumps off the middle hoop and lands on the stage with her legs stretching into a split and she bows forward until her head almost touches the floor. The final note of the song fades and the cheering is deafening. Mixed in with the cheers are variations of her name being chanted, whistling, and cat-calls.

The lights blink on and Crystal rises to curtsy, her chocolaty skin covered in a light sheen from the exertion of her performance. She blows kisses to the crowd before waving and making her way behind the curtain. There's a notable charge in the air, as if the entire atmosphere is buzzing with electricity. Mikaela was right. This is exactly what I needed. For the past few minutes I actually managed to forget about Delilah and stop obsessing over her to the point where I felt like I couldn't breathe. If anything was proven to me today, it was that I had to focus on my own life and the success I worked hard to create instead of throwing it away over a woman who didn't want me.

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