Katarina’s POV
“Can you tie my lace?” Maribel asked softly, balancing one heel on the stage edge. “It’s loose. I don’t wanna fall on my ass again.”
I was kneeling already, wiping sweat off the floor near the stage lights. I nodded. “Yeah, hold still.”
As I reached down to knot the strap around her ankle, I felt it, that burning, unwanted stare.
A man in the crowd. He wasn’t clapping. Wasn’t drinking. Just staring straight at me.
My chest tightened.
I wasn’t even dressed like the dancers. I had no glitter, no lace. Just jeans and a t-shirt. What the hell did he see in me?
You’re not a stripper, I told myself. And you’re under the Don’s protection. Nobody would dare.
Right?
Wrong.
On my way out, I saw Sybil by the bar. Laughing. Leaning close to that same drunk man. She pointed tow
