His Innocent Angel (Heaven's Ballroom Book 1) Read online

  His Innocent Angel

  Heaven’s Ballroom: Book 1

  Aiden Bates

  Contents

  Hey!

  1. Riley

  2. Max

  3. Riley

  4. Max

  5. Riley

  6. Max

  7. Riley

  8. Max

  9. Riley

  10. Max

  11. Riley

  12. Max

  13. Riley

  14. Max

  15. Riley

  16. Max

  17. Riley

  18. Max

  19. Riley

  Epilogue

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  1

  Riley

  Every night before work, it was always the same thing: shower, shave, a handful of baby oil rubbed onto every hardened ridge of my well-muscled body and a spritz of Tom Ford’s Fucking Fabulous on one side of my neck. It would’ve been easy, really—if I wasn’t checking my phone the whole time, waiting for it to light up with Kevin’s name.

  “He text you back yet, Ry?” Still beaded with water from his own shower, Damon came up behind me clad only in a micro-towel tucked precariously around his waist. He peered over my shoulder at my phone where it rested on the vanity, then cringed as he came to the same conclusion I’d been trying to avoid reaching all day. “Ouch. Guess not.”

  “What’re we looking at?” The shrill violins of the opening chords to Britney Spears’ Toxic flooded into the dressing room as Noah came in from the front of the house. He draped one arm around Damon’s shoulders and another around mine as his icy blue gaze followed ours. When he saw what we were staring at, he groaned. “Ugh. Seriously, Riley? Not this Kevin shit again.”

  “He’s my boyfriend,” I protested, shrugging Noah’s arm away. “I’m allowed to worry about him.”

  “Yeah, well, start worrying less about where he’s at and more about where his dick is.” Noah shook his head and grabbed the baby oil off of the vanity to reapply. “That man is cheating on you, buddy.”

  “Be nice,” Damon warned Noah.

  Noah only rolled his eyes. “I am being nice. If someone was cheating on me and I had my head too far up my ass to realize it, I’d want someone to grab me by my shoulders and yank me back to reality. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Maybe.” Damon ran his fingers through his hair. “But I’d at least like them to use some proverbial lube.”

  Noah rubbed the baby oil into his chest with one hand and squirted a little my way with the other. “How’s this for lube, Riley? If I were you, I’d dump his ass. Like, yesterday. And I wouldn’t be nice about it, either.”

  “He’s not cheating,” I insisted, glancing back down at my phone again. The screen only showed the time—seven-fifty. Ten minutes until show time. “If he was with someone else, why wouldn’t he just break up with me?”

  “First off,” Noah began. “He is with someone else. Remember when Anders ran into him at that coffee shop feeding macaroons to that busboy from The Backdoor?”

  “And we did bump into him at Calvin Klein with that Prada-ed out little socialite,” Damon added gently.

  “Second off,” Noah continued, “Remember what he told you when you asked him if he wanted you to stop stripping?”

  I sighed. “Yeah—‘Honey, you grind that slutty dick of yours on whoever you like…’”

  “‘Just make sure you bring home the bacon at the end of the night,’” Damon and Noah said in unison, turning Kevin’s words back on me like a loaded gun in a way that made my stomach turn.

  “Thirdly,” Noah finished, “You’re a hot piece of ass who’s always hanging around his cellphone waiting for that dick to call. You’re a sure thing, Riley. Are you really so surprised that he’d keep you in his back pocket while he’s unzipping his fly up front?”

  “You gotta admit, Riley…” Damon reached across me to grab the bottle of oil from Noah. “The facts do kind of pile up.”

  “But I love him,” I said—but hearing my own words, I realized how uncertain I sounded about them. I’d always imagined that falling in love would feel a lot like getting hit with a brick. One moment, you’re totally fine; the next, you’re walking around all dizzy and goo-goo eyed. But being with Kevin was more like the moment before impact than anything. I always felt like I was holding my breath, waiting for the knock in the head—but the knock never came, and neither did his texts.

  “Okay, tiger,” Noah said with a sarcastic laugh. “Whatever you say. Just get your wings on and stop checking your phone, okay? We’re on in five.”

  “Big crowd tonight?” Damon asked.

  “Big, hot, and ready to party. House is completely full of horny Alphas—emphasis on cum.” Noah shot us a triumphant grin as he pressed through the door out front again, heavy bass pouring past him from the speakers outside. “Same as every night!”

  Same as every night. It was one of the perks of working at Heaven’s. Our owner, Foster Collins, had been a stripper himself back before he started the club, so he knew exactly what a pain in the ass it was to work a bad shift. Other strip clubs had slow nights, rough nights, even nights where there was nothing to do but sit around and stare at the door—but Heaven’s Ballroom was the best club in the city, which meant that every night was packed. And every night, I gave it my all. Whether Kevin was messaging me back or not.

  I gave one final rub of oil onto my chest then turned to the pair of wings resting on the floor against my locker. They were approximately one-quarter of my costume for the first number of the evening. The other three pieces—a pair of shiny gold breakaway pants, a matching G-string and a halo clipped into my soft brown hair—I’d put on before oiling up. I slid my arms through the leather harness and tightened it across my chest, highlighting the lines of my muscles that much better. Everything about my job at the Ballroom was about appearances—whether it was hitting the gym twice a day to keep up my hardened physique or just pretending like Noah’s words hadn’t cut me nearly as deep as they really had.

  It was the best thing about being a stripper, really. Backstage, I was Riley Landon—soft, a little self-conscious, careful and concerned. Out in the spotlight, though, I was Riley Angel—flirtatious, unbridled, confident and free. I left my worries backstage in my locker with the rest of my clothes. The second that I put my wings on, I could feel it—that sexy sense of conviction that I was the hottest man in any room. It was a high that I could ride all night—but not, unfortunately, one that I’d figured out how to take home with me yet.

  “C’mere,” Damon beckoned as I tightened the final strap of my harness. The wings were heavy, but compared to worrying about where Kevin was sticking his dick presently, they were a welcome weight. “Final touches, then let’s get out there.”

  I closed my eyes as Damon slid a fingertip dusted in gold beneath my eyebrows and across my cheekbones. Foster didn’t put us in full stage makeup like the poor Omegas who danced at the Backdoor—but for the opening number, a little extra shimmer never hurt. I’d do a few lap dances with it on, then scrub it off before I did my cabana boy routine. The opening line was my favorite part, mostly because it was the only part of the show that got any real laughs: “Anybody in here
want to get lei-d?”

  “Thanks,” I told Damon, checking out my final look in the mirror. Now with glimmering brow bones and exquisitely highlighted cheeks, Damon had made even my boring brown eyes really pop for the night—which didn’t stop my voice from coming off a little gruffer than it should have as I expressed my gratitude for it.

  “Ry…” Damon sighed. “About what Noah and I were saying earlier…”

  We both glanced down at my phone again.

  “It’s fine.” Impulsively, I grabbed it and flipped it face down. Neither of us needed to look at the screen to know that Kevin still hadn’t texted. “I know you guys just want the best for me.”

  “We really do. And…I mean, look, Ry, I know I’m not the smartest guy on the block—”

  “Don’t say that.” I cuffed him gently on the jaw with my knuckles. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Then will you maybe just consider…y’know. Humoring us for a second?”

  I closed my eyes. Humoring Damon and Noah right now was the last thing I wanted to do. If I humored them, I had to consider the possibility that they might be right. That Kevin might be out with someone else right now while I was preparing to work the shift that would cover the rest of the rent payment on our tiny little two-bedroom apartment for the month.

  “You don’t cheat on someone you love, Damon. And Kevin loves me. I’m sure of it,” I said finally. I had to believe it—considering Kevin’s radio silence, it was the only thing that would get me through the night. “Let’s go—curtain call, right?”

  Damon nodded, and we headed up onto the stage. A thick black curtain threaded with LED lights twinkled like the night sky laced with starlight, separating us from the audience. Noah was already there, shrugging his own wings on while two of the other dancers, Kieran and Anders, stretched in preparation.

  “If you two were any later, I’d say you needed a pregnancy test.” Noah shot us a cocky smile as we fell into our places. “Nice of you to show up, boys.”

  Noah was one of my favorite dancers to work with—both because he really knew his stuff, and because he didn’t feel the need to be a hard-ass about putting everyone in their places. On stage, he moved like liquid sex; off it, he could be your best friend and your fearless leader all at once. Watching him dance was half of the reason I’d wanted to audition at the Ballroom in the first place; his management style as Foster’s number two was more than half the reason I’d stayed.

  “Nice to be here,” I called back at him, then turned my back to the curtains and lowered my head.

  The dirty bass of the club music died off slowly. In its place, there was a moment of silence that signaled to our patrons that it was time to take their seats. The Ballroom had a strict black-tie formal dress code that reminded our patrons that they were gentlemen. There wasn’t so much as a wolf whistle or a catcall as they waited for the curtains to part. If anything, it sounded like they were all holding their breaths.

  Good—they should’ve been.

  Because the second that curtain did open, we’d be taking their breaths away.

  A bar of gentle violin flowed up from the orchestra pit—the opening for “The Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah. When our singers came in with their first “Hallelujah!” the curtains parted, giving the crowd their first real glimpse of Heaven’s Angels for the night.

  The five of us stood in V-formation. Noah took the center, Damon and Kieran on his sides. Anders and I, being the newest dancers, took the outer positions. We’d be going down into the crowd while the other three took the spotlight, flirting with patrons who would hopefully buy private dances from us later in the night.

  We didn’t move until the singers—plucked right off of Broadway itself—had finished their part. Then, suddenly, the bass dropped, picking up a sensual beat that mixed perfectly with the classical violin.

  That’s when the pants came off and the crowd raised its collective voice to a roar.

  Was it demeaning, prancing around in angel wings and not much else? Maybe if it had been up on any other stage in New York. But up on stage at Heaven’s, I felt anything but cheap. We were the luxury experience—high class from the first dance of the night to the last. I fell into the steps that I’d learned over hours and hours of Noah’s guidance, the delicate balance between sexuality and elegance. Not the easiest thing to pull off in a gold G-string with my cock throbbing hard against the soft fabric—but that’s why we were the best.

  The spotlights flooded over us, illuminating every flexed bicep and making every bit of sparkle on our cheekbones shine. We looked fucking heavenly—and the crowd seemed to agree. As we spun to face them, hips gyrating and a cocky grin plastered on every face, they applauded and whistled, urging us on. Most of them, I knew, were either regulars for one of the veteran dancers or only in town on business for a night or two—but a few of them were either there to sample the new talent or still biding their time while they picked a favorite.

  It was something I reminded myself as I jogged down the steps of the stage into the sea of white tablecloths and black ties—as a newer dancer, being someone’s favorite was key to securing more shifts. More money. More time on stage at night. I winked in passing at two older Alphas who I knew had been tipping Noah in wads of hundreds nightly for a while now—being Noah’s, they were off limits, but a little nod here and there from the other dancers helped ensure that they were having good nights.

  Across the room, Anders already had three Alphas drooling over their glasses of champagne as he flexed and grinned over their table. I’d need to pick someone to tease in the same way—and quick, or else I’d miss my cue to get back on stage.

  I passed over an older Alpha who licked his lips as I walked by—too creepy. Another Alpha flushed pink and looked away as I moved past his table—too shy. What I needed was the kind of man who liked to look, but could do it without making me feel like I needed another shower just to wash his gaze off of me afterward.

  I found him just in the nick of time, sitting alone in the third row of tables. He had dark hair cropped close to his head in a way that made him look like a mobster, but wore his suit with the sleeves rolled up and the jacket draped over the back of his chair like he’d just gotten off work. His shoulders were so broad, it was a miracle that his shirt even fit him—it’d obviously been tailored by an expert. Maybe even handmade just for him. I watched the way the fabric tightened across his chest as he leaned back, watching me with interest. Like I was a new episode of his favorite television show. He cocked his head, beckoning me closer, and my heart skipped a beat.

  He was forward, this one. Too handsome for his own good and too confident to care.

  If it weren’t for Kevin, this guy would be just my type.

  I lowered my eyelashes and pushed my shoulders back, taking the last steps toward him nice and slow. As I did it, I could feel his eyes all over me. Every inch of my body that his gaze touched suddenly felt warm. Flushed.

  “Haven’t seen you around here before,” I cooed at him, bending over and sharply forcing his knees apart.

  He cracked a slow grin as I nestled my knee on his chair, kissing his crotch with my thigh. “Don’t suppose you would have. It’s my first time.”

  My own smile was soft and coy. I leaned into him, rolling my shoulder toward his face so he could breathe me in. His own scent was dark and clean—leather and bergamot. The smell of ocean air just before a storm.

  “Don’t worry,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his ear. “I’ll be gentle.”

  My fingers traced the back of his neck, eliciting a low growl from his throat. He closed his eyes as I ran my fingertips through his hair and gyrated against him. When he opened them again, I caught a glimpse of their color: steely and blue. There was a dangerous look in them. The kind that told me I should have known better than to toy with a man like him. It sent a shiver across my shoulder blades beneath the weight of my costume’s wings. That gaze of his pierced me
straight through.

  “Gentle.” He repeated my word as I lowered my lips to his, pausing just short of a kiss. “Careful—I won’t promise the same.”

  Just like that, I froze. My eyes locked on his, and I found myself unable to break his gaze.

  I’d chosen him because he’d seemed like a safe pick. And in a sense, he was. His hands remained on the arms of his chair, unmoving. He didn’t try to pinch my ass. Didn’t make a grab for me.

  But on a different level, he was the furthest thing from safe. He made my cock throb in a way that it never had before—not even for Kevin. I was rock-hard, barely contained by the slip of fabric that was supposed to provide me with some sense of modesty—and pressed just there against my thigh, so was he.

  A moment too late, my ears perked up to the music. Shit—I’d missed my cue to get my ass back up on stage. I dismounted him fumblingly, jogging back to the stairs so I could get back into step.

  As I finished the number back up on stage, striking a final pose to the roar of the crowd, I couldn’t get those steely blue eyes out of my mind. I could see him still, staring up at me from the third row with a visible hunger.

  He made my chest burn with warmth. Made my cheeks flush.

  That was the kind of man that I needed to be worried about, I decided then and there. Not at all like Kevin, with all his false bravado and lack of focus. Kevin was harmless by comparison—and this man was anything but. He was stronger. Harder. So handsome he could take whatever he wanted—and so effortlessly manly, he probably did.