Dancing With The Devil

“Lets dance.”

“Dance?” I looked around nervously. “I don’t dance. Not in front of this many people.”

“Who cares about them? I don’t dance either, but we’re here to have fun, right?. Just act like we’re the only ones in the room.”

Bentley stood in front of me with his hand extended. He was such a gentle gangster. I would have called him a gentleman, but I was still on the fence about him.

“Alright, Mr. Thomas.” I took his hand and squeezed it as hard as I could. “Since you insist.”

He laughed and led me to an empty spot on the dance floor. There was a slow groove playing and a few lovers holding each other closely while laughing and swaying to the music. The minute Bentley placed his hand on my lower back and pulled me close to him, a gasp escaped my lips because the joy of dancing with the devil of Westlake felt like a fairytale.

“Excited?” he asked as we swayed along with the lovers.

“Nervous,” I lied. “This is my first time dancing with the stars.”

“It doesn't have to be your last,” he said, caressing the tops of my shoulders. “There’s something about you that I like. You’re different from most women.”

The smoothness of his voice blended so well with the light tunes of the music as we danced. I felt like I was on a cloud and no one could bring me down. The nervousness left my body, and I forgot all about the celebrities and elites in the room with us. It was just him and me. Dancing. Caressing each other. Staring into each other’s eyes as if we would never see each other again.

When one song ended and another began, I didn’t notice until the floor started to clear. But even still, I held onto him and let his hands roam every inch of my frame.

His embrace was powerful, and his aura filled the room. I felt myself falling under his spell, and I wondered if I was failing as a journalist. I had heard nightmares about women going undercover to solve a case and never making it out. I was determined to keep my sanity and control over my interaction with such a dangerous man. But it was hard.

“I think I’ve had enough dancing,” I chuckled. “These are some very high heels, and my feet are already killing me.”

“Yeah, okay,” he laughed. “I think you just don't wanna fall in love tonight. But I hear you. We can take a seat.”

I followed him to one of the many bars in the mansion, and he helped me onto a stool that was half my height. It worked out perfectly because he was so tall that the height of the stool set us at eye level. It made our conversation more intimate and more nervewracking, because he was right—I didn’t want to fall in love.

“Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”

I looked around the room intently before answering. Even though I felt out of my element, I was having a good time being with him.

“I am,” I nodded. “I didn’t think I would, but this is actually something I wouldn’t mind doing again.”

“Did you think this would be some kind of mafia party where I chopped off the hands of people who owe me money?” he laughed. “I’ve heard the stories about me. Too many people believe them without getting to know me first.”

“Can you admit that you are a little intimidating?” I chuckled. “I didn’t know what to expect when I came. But there’s two sides to every coin.”

Bentley was such a powerful man that all he had to do was tap on the bar, and the bartender magically appeared with two glasses of champagne. He didn’t look amused about my statement, but it stood. I didn’t back down from him like he may have been used to. And I think that’s why he liked me so much.

“What makes me intimidating? Because I’m big and look serious? Or is it because most people don’t take their lives and freedom seriously? I admit I come from a checkered past, and I can be a very stern businessman, but I’m not the monster this city paints me to be.”

You would’ve thought he was pleading his case in front of a judge with worry in his eyes. But he looked content, relaxed, and confident that he was a good man.

“I guess it’s hard for most people to let go of what once was,” I said. “Your family is one of the biggest mob families in the South. That has to count for something.”

A look of surprise crossed his face. His family history was one his father tried to keep buried and out of the public view, but I did my research, and I knew a lot more than Bentley thought I knew.

“What do you know about my family? We haven’t been affiliated for a long time now.”

“I watched the footage on that SD card you gave me. There was someone on it that I recognized.”

“Who?”

He twisted the stool around and made me face him. When he stepped closer, I held my breath and waited for whatever wrath I would receive. I made sure I showed no fear. I read somewhere that gangster’s loved a woman who was fearless because if they let you into their world, you had to be ready for war at any given moment.

“An old friend of mine,” I said. “I write articles for small magazines and did a piece on one of the fashion icons in Westlake. Isaiah Thomas. I didn’t know he was your brother.”

“Ahh,” he growled. “Isaiah. Yeah, he’s my brother. A pain in my ass too.”

Bentley turned away from me and leaned both forearms on the bar. He looked like he was deep in thought about something concerning Isaiah. I wanted to know what it was that triggered him, but I didn’t ask. I had already given him too much information.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” he said. "Can I walk you out?”

“Oh. Uh, sure. Yeah.”

I was surprised he was kicking me out, but it added fuel to my fire of truth. I knew it was only a matter of time before something I could use came to the surface. All I had to do was tear down his layers little by little.

“Is something wrong?” I asked as we cleared an exit in the back of the mansion.

“Is something wrong? Why would there be something wrong?”

His tone was dark. So dark, I was afraid to answer his question. As we got further away from the mansion and deeper into the gallery of cars that lined the driveway, I saw a dark figure standing in the direction we were heading. Luckily, I was prepared for a fight. My dad gave me his old pocket knife when I was a teenager, in case of an emergency, and I never left the house without it.

“I hope I didn’t offend you about your family,” I said, reaching into my clutch for the knife. “As someone who writes articles, I guess I forget that not everything has to be a questionnaire.”

When we got to my car, he walked ahead of me to open my door. The dark figure I saw from the distance was some random man taking a phone call. Everything was just so mysterious on the devil’s playground that I thought Bentley was going to kill me too.

“You didn’t offend me,” he said as he removed my hand from my clutch to reveal my weapon. “You also don’t have to worry about me hurting you.”

He held onto my wrist and brought the knife up to his face. I was worried he would yank it from my grip and use it on me instead, but he gently took it from me, closed it, and placed it back into my clutch.

“What were you gonna do with that?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been in some pretty bad situations with men. I’m just jumpy.”

A soft smile parted his lips as he leaned against the frame of my car. He was amused by my defense mechanism, which let me know that what I read was true. Gangsters did love a girl who wasn’t afraid of anything.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He chuckled as he stepped away from my car. “I like it.”

“I think you just have a thing for danger.”

“Maybe so,” he said. “But so do you.”

Before I knew it, Bentley leaned into my lips and left the softest kiss I ever felt. My knees grew weak, and my eyes refused to open, even when he backed away. I stood there, breathless, savoring the sensation of what felt so righteous. Silently craving more than just a kiss.