The Double Life Of My Hot Secretary

6: Shaking ass is a talent

“Excuse you?” I said, eyes wide, phone pressed to my ear like I didn’t just hear what I thought I heard.

Alan’s voice didn’t even flinch. “You heard me.”

“Why the f**k would I do that?” I snapped, sitting up straight on my bed, heart racing.

“You said you wanted your life back,” he said, voice still cold, like this was some normal conversation. “I gave you the terms. Don’t call again until you’re ready to talk like an adult.”

“Are you f*****g serious right now?”

But the line had already gone dead.

I stared at my screen like it betrayed me. My jaw clenched. I was shaking. Actually shaking.

“Marry me by tomorrow?” I muttered under my breath. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

I stood up so fast the blanket fell off my lap. “f*****g psychopath,” I yelled, throwing my phone across the room. It hit the floor with a loud crack and skidded under my dresser.

Good. Let it die with my dignity.

I started pacing, fists clenched, brain moving too fast to process any of it.

After everything he put me through. After all the stress. All the rejections. He wanted me to just... marry him? Like I was some toy he could shove back in the box when he was done?

Nah. I needed to breathe. I needed to move. I needed to do something.

I grabbed my backup phone from the drawer and called Maddox.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Look who finally decided to call,” he said. “You miss me or you miss the money?”

“I want a shift tonight,” I said flatly, pacing in front of my mirror. “Something good. Private if you have it.”

He paused for half a second. “There she is. There’s my best-seller. I knew you’d come back.”

“I’m not in the mood for ass kissing, Maddox.”

He laughed. “You’re already on the board. I’ll text you your slot. Don’t be late.”

I hung up without saying bye.

I marched to my closet, yanked the glitter outfit from the hanger, and threw it on the bed. The one with the deep V, the rhinestones on the hips, and the kind of shine that made men throw money just to look at it longer.

I hadn’t worn it since that night.

My chest tightened for a second, but I ignored it.

I dug through my drawer for the heels. The tall black ones with the ankle strap. The ones that made me feel ten feet tall and untouchable. Then I did my makeup like war paint. Dark eyes. Glossy lips. Sharp cheekbones.

I curled my hair, sprayed glitter over my chest, and stared at myself in the mirror.

“You’re fine,” I told my reflection. “You’re more than fine.”

*

The lights were dim, but the way every man in the room was staring made it feel like a spotlight was on me. I was halfway through my set, hips moving slow, hands trailing up my thighs. My heels clicked against the stage, glitter catching the red glow overhead.

But my brain wasn’t on the stage.

It was on him.

Why the hell would Alan say he wanted to marry me? He barely looked at me unless it was to throw orders. The man had never even said thank you and hated me more than anything so why would he suddenly want to marry me?

It didn’t make sense, none of it did, unless he was messing with me.

And honestly, that would track.

“Guess they’ll let anyone on stage now,” a voice said from the audience, distracting my thoughts.

I froze. My eyes snapped down to the left side of the room. A guy was leaning back in his seat, drink in hand, legs spread like he owned the place. His voice wasn’t even loud, but it cut through the music sharp.

“She probably can’t even read,” he added, smirking. “But hey, shaking ass is a talent, right?”

A few guys near him laughed. I turned, slow and calm, walking right to the edge of the stage.

“What was that?” I said, loud enough to pause half the room.

He raised his drink like he was doing me a favor. “Nothing, just saying it’s cute that girls with no real skills get to pretend this is a career.”

I tilted my head, smile tight. “And you’re doing what? Sitting alone in a suit that doesn’t even fit right, drinking overpriced vodka like it makes your d**k bigger?”

A few people laughed, zomeone actually clapped.

He scoffed. “Relax, princess. I’m just being honest.”

“Honest?” I said, folding my arms under my chest. “You’re the type that couldn’t afford to talk to a girl like me outside this building, so you come in here and try to feel powerful for five minutes. Meanwhile, I make more in one night than you do in a week, and I don’t have to sit around faking confidence.”

His face dropped. The guys around him started looking away.

I walked back toward the center of the stage, flipping my hair over my shoulder. “Don’t open your mouth if you can’t handle what comes back.”

The whole crowd oooohed like it was high school.

I finished the set and got off the stage without even looking at him again. I pushed open the back door. I lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, letting the smoke curl out slow.

I was barely five minutes gone when I heard footsteps behind me.

I rolled my eyes and didn’t turn but they got faster.

I took two steps away and so did they.

Then a hand grabbed my arm and shoved me against the wall hard.

“You think that s**t was funny?” the same man growled. “Embarrassing me like that?”

“Let me go,” I said, twisting, but he pinned my wrists above my head. “Get off me!”

“You got a smart mouth,” he said, breathing way too close. “Bet you’re not so bold now.”

“Help!” I yelled. “Somebody help me!”

Before he could say another word, he was yanked off me so fast I nearly hit the wall. He hit the ground with a hard thud and scrambled to his feet, only to get punched right in the face.

Alan.

I stood there frozen as the guy stumbled back, nose bleeding.

Then Alan turned and grabbed my wrist, pulling me behind him.

His chest was rising fast, jaw locked, eyes still locked on the guy like he wasn’t finished.

Then he turned to me. His hand came up and cupped my cheek, fingers soft. His voice dropped low.

“Are you okay?”