Chapter 51

Chapter 51


Gabriel Dantas

I take one last spin on the pole with a firm push, and as my feet touch the ground, the music plummets into the muffled silence of applause and whistles. The dim lighting still dances on the stage as I bend down to collect the scattered bills around me.

The audience's attentive eyes follow my every move, but I no longer care. I count the money with the dexterity of someone returning to an old craft: not bad. A good amount.

Mentally, I subtract Alexandre's share, who always takes his percentage, and I keep the rest – another profitable night.

The damn return to this routine. How much I resisted leaving it, but circumstances pushed me back. Still, I set limits. I don't get involved with anyone. Alexandre understood.

He knows me too well to force anything. So, besides the performances, I'm responsible for serving some tables – paid for the dances and the drinks I serve. A way to maintain dignity, or what's left of it.

Back in the dressing room, I put on my uniform pants and pull the shirt from the hanger. As I button it, I hear knocks from outside. Strong, firm, almost impatient. Without looking, I reply:

— Calm down, Alexandre. I'm almost done. Stop being so hasty.

No answer. Strange.

I turn slowly, with a slight discomfort throbbing in the back of my neck. My eyes meet the figure leaning against the doorframe. The perfume hits me before the full impact of the presence. Leonardo.

His posture is tense, his gaze dark. His eyes scan my body as if searching for evidence of a crime. Jealousy drips from him like poison.

— What are you doing here?

My voice comes out firm, no room for sentimentality. He doesn't move. He just stares at me, as if silence were a kind of punishment.

— I need to talk to you – he says, controlled, as if holding back a hurricane in his chest.

— Talk? — I let out a dry laugh, pulling the shirt inside my pants. — You're late. The conversation that should have happened is already dust.

— Gabriel...

— No. No 'Gabriel'. You didn't believe me. You kicked me out as if I were disposable. Now you show up here, at my workplace, staring at me like a moral enforcer?

He closes his expression, his eyes burning with contained anger.

— I made a mistake.

— Big revelation. It doesn't change anything. I won't be the one who accepts crumbs of regret. I'm already here again, in this hell of sex and poles and smoke.

I grab my belt, fasten it around my waist, and walk towards the door. I try to pass him, but he blocks the exit with his body.

— You still have a contract signed with me.

I stop.

He continues, his voice cold, without hesitation:

— If you don't comply, I will apply every clause. And charge all the fines stipulated.

I turn slowly. The blood boils in my veins. He wants to play dirty? Then let him play. I just didn't expect him to stoop so low.

— So that's it? Now you're going to use that against me?

He doesn't answer. His silence speaks louder than any words.

— You want me to see the worst of you, Leonardo? Congratulations. I am seeing it.

— You leave me no choice.

— There's always a choice. You're the one who prefers the path of imposition.

I take two steps, stopping in front of him. His chest rises and falls slowly, as if preparing for a fight.

— Are you really going to force me back based on a contract?

— Signed freely and willingly – he retorts, with calculated coldness.

Laughter escapes my throat like a blade.

— Free? You don't know what freedom is, even when it passes you by.

I pull the door, trying to leave, but he speaks again:

— I know you've gone back to dancing and the routine of these groups, Gabriel. That you're there, on that stage, letting others look at you like I looked.

I freeze.

His words cut. As acidic as they are accurate.

— Now it hurts, doesn't it? When you don't have control, when you can't mold me to your whim.

He takes a half step back, but still blocks the passage.

— Do you think this is what I want? That I enjoy seeing you show off to these guys?

— Then why didn't you trust me when it mattered most?

Silence. Again. Always him falling silent when the truth knocks on the door.

— You threw everything away because of an idiot and a poorly told lie. And now you want to fix it with legal threats?

I pass him, breathing hard. As I cross the door, he throws out his last card:

— This can still be resolved. If you want.

I stop in the hallway. My eyes burn, but I won't give him that satisfaction.

— What I wanted, you destroyed with your own hands.

I move on. Without looking back. The sound of the door closing echoes behind me like a poorly written full stop.

I start walking with firm steps, leaving this dressing room and his presence behind. Leonardo won't intimidate me with this cheap legal game. No contract will dictate how I live.

I barely take three steps when I feel the pull. My body spins abruptly when his hand grabs my arm and pulls me forcefully, pressing my chest against his. His eyes burn, intense and furious.

— I didn't tell you to stay away from me – he says through gritted teeth. — The conversation isn't over yet.

I stare at that face, as familiar as it is irritating. The control he always tries to maintain suffocates me. I release the answer without thinking, dry and direct:

— My part has been said. You no longer have the right to tell me what to do. This isn't your damn company, you arrogant jerk.

His eyes lose some of their fury, replaced by a bitter expression. His voice comes out in a lower tone, almost vulnerable:

— Stop it… I want you back. I admit I was wrong. I miss you, little goat.

Anger runs through me like lightning. Without hesitation, I raise my hand and slap him across the face, firm and snapping. The skin on my palm still burns as he breathes deeply, not even moving an inch back.

— Don't call me that ridiculous nickname! You know how much I hate it.

But instead of backing down, as any sane person would, he advances. He pulls me again, with more force this time, and his mouth finds mine.

The kiss isn't calm. It's urgent, possessive, charged with a desire that never died. I feel my body weaken, my legs give way, as if my will had been extinguished in seconds.

For a moment, there is only his mouth and the heat that emanates from that touch. And I hate myself for it. I hate the way he can still dismantle me with a kiss.

Leonardo pulls away, breathless, with lips still red, and says with a pleading look:

— Let's get out of here.

The words hang in the air. For a second, my mind hesitates. My body wants to give in, but the memory of what he did returns with force.

The pain. The distrust. The abandonment.

I take two steps back, my blood boiling. His gaze follows me, but now I'm the one in control.

— No. I'm not going with you. I'm not falling for this charade again. You're not going to bend me with a kiss.

I take a deep breath, trying to get his taste out of my mouth.

— And if you want to charge me, go after your damn contract.

I turn my back, ignoring the name he murmurs behind me. I leave without looking. Because if I look, I lose. And today, I refuse to be defeated."