Chapter 12: A Stripper

Freya’s POV

What the fuck?

If that was the manager, then—God. I couldn’t help but blush at the images flashing through my mind as I looked at the shirtless man now standing in front of me.

Thank goodness he was wearing pants.

He smirked like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“What?” he asked, voice dipped in amusement. “Are you scared?”

“No,” I said too quickly.

He crossed his arms, the movement making the muscles in his chest flex just enough to distract me all over again. He had tattoos across one shoulder—something dark and curled, like smoke—and a cocky grin that said he knew just how disarming he looked.

“Well, you looked like you saw a ghost when you barged in. Not that I blame you,” he added, wiping at his lip where a smudge of lipstick still clung. “That was a hell of a scene to walk into.”

I coughed and looked away, focusing on the peeling edge of a poster beside the door.

“Tonny,” he said, holding out his hand. “Manager here.”