River

My God. It’s really him.

Jericho Grayson.

His face seems to loom before me, as dangerously handsome as he was eight years ago. Except, his boyish looks turned into the harder features of a man who looks like he was sculpted to perfection by the world’s greatest artist.

The realization that Jericho Grayson isn’t some figment of my imagination and he’s actually here in front of me, sitting behind the balcony in the VIP section, slices through my mind. Then the knowledge fills it with a weight as heavy as lead.

The heaviness spreads throughout my body, reaching every cell, and I almost feel like I might fall out of the air.

Yet, I can’t will myself to look away from him. Shock has frozen me in time, and all I can do is stare back at those bright blue eyes I haven’t seen in forever.

It doesn’t help that the mechanical aerial hoop is designed to stay here for a full minute to give the VIP guests a good view of me.

Me, Club Edge’s newest main attraction. Thank God my years of stage performance have equipped me with the concept of ‘the show must go on’.

I’ve managed to style out my shock by keeping my body still in a full split position on the hoop, but while the crowd below are cheering at what they think is part of the performance, I feel like I’m going to frizzle into the ether.

Jericho looks just as shocked to see me, and like he’s trying to figure out if I’m really here or not. Although I’ve established that he’s here and he’s real, I’m doing the same thing.

The music rises, and the hoop starts gliding again, severing our connection. It’s only then I notice Luc Le Blanche is sitting next to Jericho. In the same breath, I note that he recognizes me, too.

Instantly, my awareness returns, along with a venomous dose of humiliation.

Embarrassment rushes over me like an army of fire ants, and I think of how cruel fate is to have done this to me tonight.

Fate has never been kind to me. Not once. This is just one more thing.

It’s bad enough that I work here, but seeing my ex and his best friend from high school has shoved the remains of my pride deep into the earth where no one will ever see it again.

When you run into your ex, you hope that you’re in a better position than how they left you, but I’m still in trouble, just a different kind.

Before my mind can sink into a chasm of despair, I will myself to focus and remember why I’m here.

This is for Aunt Gina, the only person in my life who’s always been there for me.

By some miracle, I find strength and am able to push Jericho and Luc to the back of my mind so I can continue with my performance.

I think of Gina and carry on my act, but I can still feel Jericho’s eyes burning into me. His face hasn’t left my mind either.

I always wondered how I’d feel if I ever saw him again. I hoped it would never happen because it was clear the day we broke up that he no longer cared for me, and probably wanted to find someone better. Deep down, I wondered if he had. He was at MIT, and there was always some girl hating on me because she wanted him.

I remember how deluded I must have seemed when I went around thinking I was going to be with a guy like him who came from one of the richest families in America.

Old pain stirs deep inside my soul, and I’m annoyed at myself for feeling it.

Enough years have gone by for me not to feel anything for this guy. Jericho Grayson shouldn’t even be an afterthought in my mind, but his mere presence in my sphere of existence rattles me to the core.

I manage to complete the performance, which lasts another ten minutes—the longest ten minutes of my life.

The hoop floats back to the stage, and the crowd cheers for me.

I’ve been here for close to a month. According to Penelope, the club owner, I’ve been a hit.

The sound of the applause takes me back to my glory days when I was the prima ballerina who danced with the Bolshoi Ballet. Those were the days I lived for, and I was so glad that I’d gotten so far. The same thought saddens me now because I’m not that girl anymore.

I was lucky enough to get this job for my dance and acrobatic skills, but in this skimpy leotard that exposes more than I’d like, I’m hardly any different from the strippers. I’m not stripping yet, and I hope I never have to.

Pretending I’m still the River St. James I used to be, I curtsey, receiving a louder applause.

When I rise, I chance stealing a glance at the VIP section where I’ve seen Jericho.

He’s not there anymore. Neither is Luc.

They must have left.

Good.

The curtains close, and I release the breath I’m holding, but my body still feels like it’s made of lead.

Placing my hand over my racing heart, I take a few deep breaths hoping my mind will climb down from the shock of seeing Jericho, but it doesn’t work.

“Hey, River, are you okay?” Zara’s voices cuts into my thoughts.

I turn to see her making her way over to me. She the club’s manager. Tonight, she’s dyed her mid-length hair a vibrant electric blue and is wearing a matching catsuit that makes her slender body appear leaner.

Quickly, I gather my composure and offer her my brightest smile. The one rule they have here is to always look like you’re having fun, even when you’re not.

“Hey, there, I’m fine.”

“You look like you froze up for a minute while you were in the air. I was worried.” She looks genuinely concerned, a quality I like in her. She’s shown it right from our first meeting when she could see how desperate I was for the job.

“Sorry, I just had a case of lightheadedness.” I chuckle, hoping she can’t see through the lie. “But honestly, I’m fine.”

On hearing that, she gives me warm smile and seems relieved. “Great, because the crowd absolutely loved you. Penelope is having a field day.” She clasps her bony hands and does a little hop.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“You should be. Everyone is obsessed with you and your performances. They’re calling you the mermaid. I can see why.” Zara laughs heartily, lifting the ends of my ponytail and making a show of staring at the red color.

I laugh, too. “I get that a lot.”

“I’m sure you do. You also have private party bookings every night for the rest of the month, with the option for overtime if you want.”

“Wow.” That brightens my mood.

“I know, right?” She grins, running coffin-shaped fingernails through her hair.

“That is amazing and will definitely help me out.”

“I thought so.” She nods, and a spark of sympathy enters her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“No worries.”

My main job here is the aerial performances. I get a base pay of three hundred dollars a night to do that from eight p.m. to one in the morning. However, those party bookings are private functions that could add another three to five hundred on top per night with tips if the men like you. Of course, they don’t just want you there for your pretty face.

I’ve done five parties so far that have brought in an extra two thousand dollars. Half-heartedly, I also signed up for the auction on Friday night, where I hear you can bring in anything from ten thousand to fifty thousand dollars. Or more.

The parties and the auction are both way outside my comfort zone. I know I’ll most likely have to do things I’ll regret, but knowing I have a chance to make all that money to make life better for my aunt and myself gives me strength I desperately need.

I still wouldn’t be anywhere close to my goal, but at least I’m getting there.

“Anyway.” Zara straightens and sets her shoulders back, regaining her business-like poise. “I would love to stay and chat some more, but you’ve got fifteen minutes before the Everton party begins.”

“Okay, I’ll go get ready.”

“Great. Your dress is already waiting for you in the dressing room, and Tony’s on duty, if you need him. Bailey Everton Ⅳ can get a little handsy when he’s drunk.” She grimaces and wrinkles her nose as if she’s seen something too disturbing.

Tony is the head of security, but Zara’s reaction doesn’t exactly instill me with reassurance. In my frame of mind, I don’t think I could handle handsy tonight. My presence at these parties is just to mingle and basically flirt. I don’t do lap dances like the other girls at the parties, but sometimes the men don’t like that.

“I’ll be okay,” I decide to say, because I have to be.

“Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

I leave her and make my way backstage. The instant I reach it, my mind goes straight back to Jericho.

Honestly, finding him in a place like this is no surprise. This club is a playground for rich, powerful men like him who can own people like me.

I won’t lie. I have thought about him, especially when I first came back to New York. That was eight months ago, but I never stopped. It wasn’t like I could escape the Grayson name either with the press all over them for one reason or another.

First, they covered his brother Knight’s wedding as if it were the royal wedding of the century, then they went for Jericho for hooking up with a Preacher Man’s wife. And just today, Bastian Grayson was in the papers for his scandal with Governor Teddy Jamieson’s daughter.

No matter who I hear about in his family, it makes me think of him. I never imagined seeing him here tonight, at a time when I’ve reached another low in my life.

I reach the dressing room, which is just as fancy and spacious as everywhere else in the club. It has a boudoir style, ornate mirrors, and period interior décor like something you’d find at the Moulin Rouge.

I make my way past a row of dressing tables and down to the section with my station. I was grateful that I have a small one at the end. Because it’s in the corner of the room, it’s like I have it to myself.

I can already see my dress hanging on the clothes rail.

I turn the corner, and my legs become stone when I see Jericho standing by the window. Shivers erupt across my skin in as if I’m standing outside in the cold, and I slow to a stop, then stare at him, wondering what he’s doing here.

His back is turned to me, but I can still see the hard outline of his jaw as he gazes at the bright city lights cascading across the scenic night-time view of the city.

If he’s standing in my area, it’s safe to assume he’s here to see me.

But why?

My next breath stills in my lungs, captured by the tension in my nerves and my racing thoughts. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might hammer its way out of my chest.

I blink several times and try to calm myself so I can say something—anything—but I can’t do either. I’m too stunned to even think of speaking to him because I don’t know what to say.

What do you say to a guy who broke up with you after having a secret relationship for three years?

What the hell do you say to him after he appeared to defy everything and everyone to be with you in said secret relationship, then he suddenly tells you out of the blue that he doesn’t think you two have a future? Because his feelings have changed.

My father hates the Graysons, so he was against us being together and went ape shit when he found out I was seeing Jericho.

Tobias Grayson—Jericho’s father—was mine’s arch nemesis right throughout our high school and college. Tobias even tried to screw with my father’s job when he just started out as a software engineer. He swears that’s why to this day, he’s still on the breadline and never had the chance to climb up even after winning a scholarship to Princeton.

Before my father’s accident, he’d blame the Graysons for everything. Every time I was with Jericho, I felt like I was betraying my father.

I feel like that again. Except now I also feel like I’m betraying myself.

“I don’t remember you being able to stay quiet for so long.” Jericho’s voice swallows the silence between us.

Hearing his voice that I haven’t heard in such a long time snaps my mind from the stupor of thought. I prepare myself to speak to him as he turns to face me.

He straightens and seems taller than I remember. I feel like a mouse in comparison to him.

In this light, I can also see more of his uncut hard-meets-soft raw beauty. As if earlier was the sneak peek and this is the main attraction.

His onyx-colored hair cut in a sharp faux-hawk accentuates his piercing stormy blue eyes and the deep angles of his face.

The muscles beneath his suit and the tattoo peeking through the opened top button of his shirt conjure the rebel I used to know. But the Rolex around his wrist and the black tailored Armani suit display the wealth of the Wall Street man he became.

Jericho’s gaze flicks over me, up and down, before he settles back on my eyes.

I keep my eyes trained on him and really look at him. At his face. At his attitude. At his entire presence.

The memory of how he broke my heart and severed the future I thought I was going to have with him comes alive in my mind as if it’s just happening, and I see straight through to the asshole he is, who he always was.

“I’m quiet when I come across unexpected surprises.” Although there’s a rasp in my voice, I’m grateful I sound confident and like I’m okay. “What are you doing here, Jericho Grayson?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He raises sharp brows. “What are you doing working in a place like this, River?”

I guess I landed myself in that question sooner rather than later.

“I don’t think that’s really any of your business.”

His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, showing he expected a better answer from me. He won’t get any more of an answer than that, because whatever is happening to me is none of his business.

“What happened to you?” He ignores my answer, giving me a hard stare. Not the kind you’d see on a person when they’re mad at you, but the sort you’d get when they care. I hate that look on him, because he doesn’t care.

“I’m working.” I lift my jaw higher.

“Working?” He makes a point of looking me over and lingering his stare on my virtually exposed breasts that I’m sure you can see through the flesh-colored fabric.

A flash of something sexual sparks in his eyes, igniting unwarranted heat in my core that surprises me. I don’t want to feel anything for him. This man is just another smooth-talking beautiful devil with a cold heart covered in steel.

“Yes, I’m working.”

“Something must have happened to you for you to want to work here.”

“Nothing happened to me.” If I add another dose of confidence to that lie, even I might believe it. I’m not fooling Jericho in the slightest, though.

He knows I didn’t work my ass off to get into Juilliard only to end up working somewhere like this. If he’d stuck with me a little longer and saw I got my dream to travel the world and dance with the Bolshoi Ballet, he’d know with certainty that I’m lying.

“You’re dancing in a strip club.” He places emphasis on the last two words as if I’m not aware of the true reality of the place I work in.

“As you saw earlier, I do way more than dance in a strip club. Do you know the type of skills you have to have to do what I can do?” I ball my hands into fists and hold them at my sides to keep my rage in. “How dare you come here and question my work?”

“Are you stripping here?” He ignores what I said again. This time, his eyes blaze with deep irritation.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I stare back at him, hold my breath, and count backwards from ten, hoping the therapy technique that’s calmed me in many stressful situations will help now.

It works a little, allowing me to think on my feet with an answer that will shut him down.

“Like I said, it’s not of your business.” There, that’s the best answer to give him, and he looks as annoyed as I hoped he’d be.

I know I told him this wasn’t his business before, but as I haven’t confirmed or denied whether or not I’m stripping, hearing that answer again must feel worse.

“If you don’t mind, I’m on a strict deadline I need to heed to.” I set my

shoulders back and keep my gaze leveled with his.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His tone takes on an abrasive edge. “Are you stripping here?”

My lips part in surprise, and I give him a narrowed stare. “Listen, I think I’ve been polite enough to you. Now leave me alone. My life is none of your business. It hasn’t been for the last eight years, and it’s not going to start now, so please leave.”

I wish I could feel bad for talking to him like that, but I don’t. Not even a little.

I’m more infuriated when he doesn’t move. Then I realize he’s staying put because men like him aren’t used to not being in control. They always get what they want, and they don’t like it when they no longer have the upper hand.

Since I have no time to argue and I’m done talking, I walk over to the clothes rail to get my dress, then leave him.

That move would have surprised him, but I walk away and don’t look back. The same way he did all those years ago on the day I’ll never forget.

Seeing Jericho Grayson again is the least of my problems. It’s nothing in the grand scheme of shit happening in my life.

The dire financial situation Aunt Gina landed herself in came about because she saved me. Literally saved me from death.

I swear the stroke she had months later was my fault, too. Enough was enough at that point. My poor choices in life affected her in ways she never imagined. Like her health.

Now it falls on me to save her business and her home, because she can’t do it herself. If I don’t find a way, I’ll never forgive myself. So, no matter how bitter I feel after seeing my ex, or how many ghosts from my past haunt me, I have to focus on my family.

Perhaps if I had done so years ago and heeded my father’s advice to stay away from Jericho and anyone with the last name Grayson, I’d be in a better position.

Jericho was my first heartbreak.

After him, nothing was ever the same.