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“The club is far different than here,” he reasoned.
“You’re in my territory now. I have higher standards here. And there is a whole
lot different on you…than before.” A sardonic roam of his eyes ran over her
tight breasts to lay proof to these words.

Sara knew she had want written all over her and he
likely desired to see want replaced by need. After an hour or so inside a
mirrored room, it certainly should be. Nevertheless, she had to work for it,
and until perfection achieved its goal, Casey was reserving final judgment if
she’d earned it or not.

He made himself comfortable on the leather chair
specifically for the man’s viewing pleasure. He looked so damn relaxed Sara saw
red.

“What do you want from me Griffen?” Sara was seething
under her skin.

“I want you to dance. I thought this more than obvious.”

“Fuck you! You want more than a measly dance out of
me. Why go through the charade of pretending otherwise? Why not just come out
and say it?”

He did not get off the chair. But his tone of voice
increased the chill she felt before, making it seem almost lukewarm in
comparison. “Do I want you, Mecenna?”

Sara’s eyes slammed into the tight crotch of his
jeans. “Do I even want
you
?” she mimicked. Her sharp tongue and
sassiness meant to faze him; she should have known nothing would ever faze the
mighty Casey Griffen. He easily proved as much by saying so.

 “Of course I want you. What man wouldn’t want you?
You are desirable. You have all the equipment, in all the right places. But if
you can’t dance to capture my eye—” he stalled upon, lowering his sight to the
huge erection he was going to do nothing about for the time being. “—then you
will never get what your wetted cunt desires from me…or from anyone else. And
I’ll fire you. It’s that simple.”

Languid, passion-filled eyes drifted to her face.
“Contrary to popular belief, Sweetheart, you will have to
earn
me. There
are no freebies when you’re in my territory.”

“Yeah? Well, there are no freebies to come out of me,
either.”

She was about to walk away, leave the mirrored
room—and the man—but his hand snaked out to grab her by the wrist.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?” Casey
gained his feet faster than it took to blink.

Sara’s eyes blazed into his. “Home.”

“How? I drove you here. Remember?”

She turned on his arrogance quicker than a trained
hound could tree a coon. “By way of walking, you sonofabitch—same as I always
do! And when I’m with you this has the tendency to be quite often as of late.”

Casey’s smile grew tenfold, his grip on her arm
tightened to painful. “You’re not leaving this house on foot, Mecenna.”

“Says who?”

He pulled hard on her arm until she stumbled forward
into his. “I say so.” His lips were unsmiling. “Don’t try to push me into anger
for the single reason I won’t let you into my pants sooner than you need to be.
It doesn’t suit you. Perhaps with Lace it would work, but with you…it only
makes you cheap, Sweetheart.”

Sara was about to slap his face for such a
chauvinistic comment but Casey anticipated the action and unfortunately took
hold of her arm, using the hand on his injured wrist. His flinch of pain came
out unhidden. “Fucking Hell!”

He dropped her wrist to push her away.

She watched him grit his teeth through the fire in his
wrist before he could add anything further. And when he did, it did not come
out of his mouth as nice. “You knew what I wanted from you hours ago. In the
echo of your very words…why dare pretend otherwise?”

Sara’s hackles rose. She wasn’t a tease and how dare
he force her to say she was. “I’m not pretending a damn thing, Griffen.”

His cocked brow mocked her thoughts about this. “Oh,
no? Not pretending?”

“No!”

“Why can’t you just admit what you want so we can get
on with our night?” he questioned. Being nice or jovial slipped to the wayside,
because he was now glaring at her.

“Why can’t you?” she clipped back.

“I already have, Sweetheart,” he ruled firmly.

Sara rolled her eyes.

Unfortunately, the slight action stirred the large,
well-toned man into reaction. Again, he grabbed her arm, and this time Casey
was smart enough not to use a broken wrist to hold onto her. His mouth found
hers, perhaps to curb the building anger inside his body. Perhaps not. It sure
as hell was not because he
wanted
to kiss her.

At first, Sara fought him. Ever so slowly she gave in
to the demands of his pressuring lips and masterful tongue and any fight in her
body fled within mere heartbeats. She literally melted into him by a kiss.

As his lips tormented her into submission, Casey’s
hand moved from her arm, to her neck, then to her hair. His fingers dug into
the long threads as he drove his tongue deeper into her mouth, searching for
her soul. Before she could anticipate what he was about to do, he twisted the
strands in his fingers to where she could not escape from his grasp.

Sara did not fear him, though the act almost violent.
Nor had she reacted to it as he likely thought she would. She simply stood in
Casey’s arms, pressed firmly against his body, and dared him to speak the
truth. This was all she wanted from him—the truth.

Casey took a deep breath, flared his nostrils…and
slowly gave in. “Fine. You win. I do want you. I want to be deep inside you. I
want you over me, to taste every inch of you. I want to feel every inch of you.
I want you in any way had of you. And not just once, but many, many times, until
I leave you so exhausted you can’t stand upright. Satisfied, Mecenna? Is that
what you wanted to hear? A man needing you so badly that nothing else matters?
Not even conscience reason, or his possible loss of sanity?”

When she was about to put answer to all of this, he
added more. “But I want you to dance for me and until you do as I have said…you
will not get any part of me.”

Her eyes met his. They locked, held firm.

“What is it going to be, Mecenna? Run home with your
tail between your legs? Or dance in front of the mirrors?”

Sara took in a deep breath and let it go as slowly as
possible. This somehow relaxed Casey’s grip to her hair. “Fine, I’ll dance. But
not in here.”

He questioned briskly, “Why not in here?”

“I don’t like the mirrors. That’s why.”

“If you want to dance in the club, you’ll have to get
used to the mirrors, the lights, and a whole lot else. There will be times when
I might not be around to control the outcome of what you start with one of the
customers. All you know is what you’ve viewed firsthand, but you don’t know
what really happens in the back rooms. Once you’re in there…Well, you won’t
have a crowded bar and others to make certain no harm comes your way.”

“I’ve changed my mind, then,” she reasoned out.

“Oh?” Casey’s arched brow contradicted this.

Sara shrugged her shoulders as if it no longer
mattered. “I no longer want to do the club routine—if so dangerous.”

“Really?” He seemed shocked by this news.

“Yes, really.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

Sara took another deep breath; held it. The way he’d
said this didn’t sit well inside her. “I just realized you’re not going to like
the performance, no matter what I do or say, so why should I get my hopes up it
will ever end in the club’s private room?”

His eyes widened. “How the bloody hell would you know
if I am or am not going to like your performance?”

Sara didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he
asked for it. “You only kiss me when I anger you. You tell me to undress
without any care if I’m nervous or not. And you have a strange look in your
eyes that clearly says you brought me here only to prove something of your
manhood. I’m not stupid. Nor am I a fool.”

“And this something would be?” he coerced.

“That you don’t trust me.”

Casey took a step back, looking as though slapped. To
which Sara’s eyes widened in alarm, his reaction more than readable at this
point.

“You don’t…do you?” she yelped.

He tried to turn from her, gather his thoughts, but
Sara caught his arm and forced him to face her. “Why the hell don’t you trust
me?”

Nostrils flared, eyes closed, he pulled in a deep
breath. “I just don’t.”

The retort came far too quickly off his tongue for
Sara not to react. “I never did anything to you, for you not to trust me.”

Two raised brows proved otherwise, and the words, “Oh,
really? Nothing?” added far more to her sudden lie.

“Yes. Nothing,” she started. “There is no reason…”

He cut her off before she could get herself in too
deep of shit she’d not be able to get out of. “Nothing, Sara? Nothing at all?”

“Yes. Nothing.”

Sadly, it took Sara at least four agonizing seconds to
realize her terrible mistake. By then it was too late. Her gasp felt like
another presence inside the mirrored room—one mistake that ate at the soul
until there was nothing left.

She’d answered him…as
Sara.
Not as Mecenna
Jones.

Fuck!

****

“That’s right, Sara,” he muttered, stalling on her
real name. “I’ve known for months your real identity. And I let you get away
with it, because of this.” His hand swept the mirrored room. “Unless you
undress, and dance, and we get on with our night as planned…I could easily
change my mind about tonight—and you—and start to question why you lied about
who you are, and for what purpose it was done. And we sure as hell don’t want
that, do we…
Sara?
”

He physically sneered on her given name this time.

When she was about to turn her head and look away,
Casey pinched the bottom of her face in a tight grip, forcing her eyes to his.
“Why the
hell
would you have ever thought I could trust you?”

All she could say was, “You’ve known for months?”
Anything else seemed pointless.

Casey dropped her chin. He shoved his hands into his
pockets and squared his shoulders. “Months, Sweetheart. In all that time I dare
say you played your little game to the hilt.”

“I never played…,” she started arguing with.

Casey finished the sentence for her. “You never played
me for a fool, Sara? Believe me Sweetheart, when I say I would much rather you
slit my throat right now than tell me another lie, I truly mean it.”

The pain settled deep. It festered, causing the
beginning of complications she’d never be able to get away from.

“You have two choices tonight. Either you undress and
start making love to that fucking pole…or I undress you myself and shove my
cock into your tight ass and simply start fucking your ever-lying brains out
from the back door before it get
really
pissed at you. And we wouldn’t
want for me to get
really
pissed
,
now would we?”

Sara’s eyes widened with shock. “You would rape me?”

Casey shook his head. “No, Sweetheart.” He smiled. “I
would never rape you. It would be done as a mutual consent of mature,
open-minded adults in the heat of the moment…and because we couldn’t help
ourselves, thereby turned into slightly destructive on your part.”

Sara snapped without a single ounce of remorse. “Go to
Hell! And you can take your pole, your mirrors, and your fucking strip club
there with you.”

“I am in Hell, Babe. I can’t go where I already
dwell,” he taunted.

“Then what the fuck do you want from me?”

“I already told you. I want you undressed.”

“No!”

“No?” Casey’s raised brow added emphasis to his
surprise.

“No. I will not take my clothes off, and unless you
allow me to leave this room—right now—I will call it rape.”

His smile returned within a single heartbeat. “Should
I call the cops for you, Sara? I’m quite certain there is something you would
like to tell them. Something they’d like to ask you about a certain car
accident.”

Her gasp wouldn’t stay hidden. “Fuck you, Griffen!”

His arrogant, self-serving smile grew larger. “That
was the plan, Sara.”

“Plans change, you low-life sonofabitch! Get over the
loss.”

He grabbed her upper arm. His strong grip held tight
to her flesh. “I don’t think they have.” His point more than proven as his
nails dug into her skin.

Sara had felt fear in her life, but never so strongly.
Even though Casey didn’t look as though he would go through with his threat,
she did not trust him, any more than he said he could trust her. At least he
had viable reason not to, whereas she did not trust Casey because of the
principal of caught as a liar, and little else.

She tried to yank her arm free, causing the grip to
tighten. She had only one option left her.