Drawing in a shaky breath, I turned back to him. “Yes,” I croaked. Jesus-fucking- Christ, what was I doing? I knew I was considering making a deal with the Devil, but could I lower my standards this much? I had no issues with sexuality. I had no issues with other women who wanted to express that sexuality, but the idea of becoming a dancer was throwing up roadblocks in my head. I couldn’t do this—not even for Hawk.

I threw the last of my whisky down my throat and stood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rivera, but I can’t do this.”

“Do what, exactly? We’re having a drink.”

I ran a hand...