Chapter 16
Christina stood backstage, the mask now covering most of her face, leaving only her bright, clear eyes visible. They sparkled under the dim lights, full of a mixture of nervousness and resolve. The rhythmic sounds of the crowd pulsed through the air, and the host’s voice filled the space, announcing the next act.
As the audience erupted in enthusiastic cheers, Christina took a deep breath and stepped onto the raised platform. The moment her figure appeared in the spotlight, a collective gasp seemed to echo in the room. The atmosphere shifted, and all eyes were drawn to her, her presence commanding the stage.
She stood in the center of the platform, the light shining from behind her like an ethereal halo, casting her curves in shadow and highlighting her graceful silhouette. Even in her stillness, there was an undeniable allure about her. Her slender frame seemed to almost float under the bright lights, as though the world around her had faded into the background.
The music began, fast and energetic, but Christina’s body swayed into motion with surprising grace. Her movements were fluid, almost otherworldly. Despite the rapid tempo of the music, she executed a classical dance—her body obeying muscle memory from years past. The crowd, expecting a more provocative performance, was intrigued by the sudden change in style.
Christina’s delicate figure twisted and twirled with unexpected flexibility, her every movement a testament to her poise and discipline. The audience watched, rapt with attention, unable to look away. She moved like a shadow, her movements full of hidden emotion that only a few could recognize.
But just as the performance was coming to a close, the music abruptly stopped, and the host took to the stage with a wide grin. “Next up, we have Peacock’s solo dance. The starting bid is five thousand. Who will pay the highest price to enjoy this rare performance all to themselves?” The room buzzed in anticipation.
Christina’s heart raced, not from the dance, but from something else entirely. Her eyes wandered over the crowd, and suddenly, they froze. Her gaze locked onto a VIP table in the distance, and her heart lurched. Is that Brayden?
Brayden Griffin. The man she’d harbored feelings for, silently, for years. His auburn hair and sharp features stood out in the crowd, and even in the dimly lit bar, his elegance made him seem out of place. Beside him, to her shock, was Freya Larson, her best friend. Freya was leaning in closer to Brayden, her actions carefully crafted to look intimate.
Christina’s breath hitched. What’s going on? Why is Brayden here? Before she could process it fully, Freya’s gaze swept toward her, and their eyes met across the room. Christina’s chest tightened, the sting of recognition sharp.
Freya’s expression faltered for a split second before she forced a look of surprise onto her face. “Brayden, look! Doesn’t that dancer look just like Christina?”
Brayden’s gaze shot up, his focus sharpening as his eyes met Christina’s. His expression shifted from confusion to something more—something unreadable. “What is Christina doing here?” he muttered under his breath.
The realization hit Christina like a punch to the gut. Freya had known all along. She invited him here… to humiliate me.
As Brayden’s attention remained fixed on her, Freya’s grip tightened around her glass, jealousy flashing in her eyes. Why does Brayden look at her like that? Freya’s mind raced with thoughts of how to turn this situation to her advantage.
“Brayden, don’t look down on Christina,” Freya said with a voice tinged with faux sympathy. “She’s always been a good girl. I’m sure she’s just doing this because her family is going through a hard time.”
But her words only made things worse. Brayden’s gaze didn’t waver from Christina, and Freya’s attempt to manipulate the situation fell flat. Does he care about Christina that much? Freya clenched her fists, her jealousy now giving way to frustration. She had invited Brayden here hoping to expose Christina’s humble job, to tarnish her image in Brayden’s eyes. But now, it seemed like everything was backfiring.
Brayden, still silent, didn’t even look at Freya. Instead, he picked up the bidding sign on the table, his gaze fixed firmly on Christina as he raised it, signaling his intent to participate.
The auction for Peacock’s solo dance had begun, but Christina’s heart was already in turmoil. She was no longer just performing for the crowd. She was performing for Brayden, for Freya. And in that moment, everything felt like it was slipping further out of her control.