Chapter 1: Sparks in the Spotlight
The stage lights burned hot against Vivienne Hart’s skin as she strutted across the theater, her crimson stilettos clicking with authority. She was the star of the underground burlesque scene, a woman who commanded every eye in the room with a flick of her wrist and a smirk that could melt steel. Tonight, though, her gaze locked on someone new in the front row—a man with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and eyes that smoldered with unspoken promises. His name, she’d learn later, was Damien Cross, a notorious playboy and investor who’d stumbled into her world.
Vivienne leaned forward during her performance, her corset hugging her curves like a lover’s grip, and tossed a playful wink at him. The crowd roared, but Damien’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin. She felt a thrill race down her spine—not nerves, never nerves, but raw, electric want. After the show, as she wiped the sweat from her brow backstage, he appeared at her dressing room door, all tailored suit and cocky swagger.
‘Impressive performance, Ms. Hart,’ he drawled, leaning against the frame, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. ‘But I’m more interested in what you do offstage.’
Vivienne turned, her silk robe slipping just enough to reveal the edge of her lace bra. She arched a brow, unfazed. ‘And what makes you think I’d give a damn about your interests, Mr. Cross? I don’t play for just anyone.’
He stepped closer, the scent of his cologne—woodsy, intoxicating—wrapping around her. ‘Oh, I’m not just anyone. I play to win, and I’ve got a feeling you’re the kind of woman who likes a challenge.’
She laughed, sharp and biting, crossing her arms to push her cleavage just a little higher. ‘You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. But I’m not some prize to be won. If you want my attention, you’d better bring more than pretty words.’
Damien’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing wicked. ‘Trust me, darling, I’ve got plenty to offer. Care to test that theory?’
Vivienne stepped forward, closing the distance, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, ‘Only if you can keep up. I don’t do slow, and I sure as hell don’t do gentle.’
His hand brushed her hip, a spark igniting where his fingers grazed her skin through the thin silk. Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she grabbed his tie, yanking him closer until their lips were a heartbeat apart. ‘Last chance to back out, playboy,’ she taunted, her voice dripping with challenge.
‘I don’t back out of anything,’ he growled, his grip tightening on her waist. The air between them crackled, charged with a hunger neither could deny. Her robe slipped further, exposing more of her flushed skin, and she could feel him—hard, pressing against her thigh through his trousers. Her own heat pooled, wet and insistent, as she smirked, knowing she had him right where she wanted.
Their lips crashed together, a collision of fire and defiance, tongues battling for dominance as they stumbled back against the vanity. Mirrors rattled, makeup scattered, and Vivienne’s nails dug into his shoulders, a silent demand for more. She wasn’t just kissing him—she was claiming him, and damned if she’d let him think otherwise.
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