Chapter 14 Alessio
ALESSIO
The woman hanging on my arm is starting to make my skin crawl.
I picked her up at some bar last night. Tall, blonde, expensive-looking. She had the kind of confidence that usually gets a woman into my bed within an hour. But mafia business called, and I had to bail before I could seal the deal.
So I texted her to meet me at my club tonight. She wasn’t thrilled about spending time in a strip club, but when I made it clear this was the only way she’d get a shot at my bed, she agreed. Now she’s here, clinging to me like I’m her meal ticket.
“The music is really overwhelming,” she whines, pressing her artificially enhanced tits against my arm. “Can’t we go somewhere quieter?”
I take a long pull of my scotch, savoring the burn. “It’s a strip club, Amy. The music’s supposed to be loud.”
“It’s Amber,” she snaps.
Right. Amber. I genuinely don’t give a shit what her name is, but I’ve been celibate for two weeks, and my dick is starting to stage a revolt. She’s got the kind of enthusiasm that usually translates to wild, uninhibited sex, and that’s just what I need right now.
“Sorry, baby.” The smile I give her feels forced as hell.
She relaxes slightly, going back to rubbing herself against me like a cat in heat while I signal Katrina for another round.
Amber’s already demolished two of whatever fruity cocktail Katrina whipped up for her.
We don’t normally serve anything that comes with little umbrellas, but Katrina’s good at improvising.
I’m drinking more than usual tonight, too, which should probably concern me. Normally, I’m sharp and focused when I’m here, keeping an eye on everything, making sure the business runs smooth. Tonight, I feel like I’m trying to drown something that keeps floating back to the surface.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Amber shifts closer, and I fight the urge to pull away. She’s hot and willing, exactly my usual type, but I’m not feeling it tonight. I can’t figure out what my problem is.
“Don’t you have an office here?” she purrs, running a manicured nail down my chest. “I’d love to see it.”
My stomach turns at the suggestion. My office. Where I kissed Nina two days ago and nearly lost my mind doing it. Where her taste still lingers in my memory like the world’s most addictive drug.
The idea of taking Amber back there, of bending her over my desk where Nina’s hands touched the wood, makes my stomach turn. It would be like desecrating something sacred, which is fucked up because it was just a kiss. A really, really good kiss that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
“Not right now,” I say, hearing the edge in my voice. “I need to keep an eye on things.”
It’s not like me to beat around the bush like this. Normally, I’m direct with people. I should tell Amber this isn’t happening, but I keep trying to make it work for some fucked-up reason.
The DJ’s voice cuts through my internal spiral. “Gentlemen, prepare yourselves for Temptress!”
And there she is.
Nina walks onto the stage wearing leopard print lingerie and fishnet stockings that should look trashy but somehow look perfect on her. The music starts—“Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry—and she moves to the beat with a raw sensuality that makes every other woman in the room fade into background noise.
She’s got natural talent, and there’s something raw about the way she moves that makes my cock harder than it’s been all night.
Maybe all week.
“Jesus,” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably on my stool.
“I can see why you went looking for a classy woman like me,” Amber says, her voice dripping with disdain. “These strippers are such skanks.”
The words piss me off, and suddenly all the annoyance I’ve been swallowing for the past hour comes roaring to the surface.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, look at her.” Amber gestures toward the stage with obvious disgust. “It’s just so... desperate. So trashy.”
Something dark and protective stirs awake inside me. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please. She’s taking her clothes off for money. How much more pathetic can you get?”
I turn to face her fully, and she must see something dangerous in my expression because she actually leans back.
“Let me explain something to you,” My voice drops to the tone I use when I’m about to make someone’s life very unpleasant. “You don’t know that woman. You don’t know any of the women who work for me. And you sure as hell don’t know what brought them here or what they’re working toward.”
Amber’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
“These women bust their asses to make a living,” I continue. “They deal with assholes like you every single night, and they do it with more grace and dignity than you’ve shown in the past hour. So if you can’t show some basic fucking respect, there’s the door.”
My hands are clenched so tight around my glass I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. The urge to grab Amber by the throat and show her how ‘pathetic’ I can get is riding me hard.
Her face flushes red. “How dare you talk to me like that! I came all the way here for you!”
“Yeah, well, congratulations on taking an Uber. Want a medal?”
She shoots to her feet, pointing a finger at me like she’s casting a curse. “You just blew it, you dick. I would’ve been the best you ever had.”
I almost laugh. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
She makes a sound like a wounded animal and storms toward the exit, probably expecting me to chase after her. Instead, I turn back to the stage just in time to see Nina hook one leg around the pole and spin, her back arched in a perfect curve that makes my mouth go dry.
Best I ever had? Not fucking likely. The best I ever had is right up there, moving like sin set to music, and she’s the reason I couldn’t get it up for anyone else tonight.
Nina’s set ends, and she disappears backstage to change. I know she’ll be back out in a few minutes to work the floor, and I tell myself I’m not waiting for her. I’m just finishing my drink and keeping an eye on the club like any responsible owner would.
But when she emerges wearing that black satin number that’s been haunting my dreams, I can’t stop myself from raising my hand and waving her over.
I’m just being a decent boss. Having a civil conversation with her, showing her I’m not a complete asshole. Maybe getting to know her will help me get past this attraction. She might annoy me as much as Amber did.
She hesitates, and I can practically see the internal debate playing out on her face. Good instincts. She should stay far away from me.
But she doesn’t. She walks over with that careful grace that makes me think of a dancer even when she’s not on stage.
“Can I do something for you, boss?” she asks, and there’s just enough edge in her voice to let me know she hasn’t forgotten how much of a dick I’ve been to her.
“Sit. Have a drink with me.”
“I’m working.”
“I’m the boss. I say you can take a break.”
She slides onto the stool Amber vacated, and my body responds instantly. Where Amber left me cold all night, Nina makes my pulse kick up just by sitting down.
Katrina appears with a Sprite for her. Nina takes a sip, and I find myself curious.
“What would you drink if you weren’t working?”
“Gin and tonic,” she says.
I think about Amber’s fruity drink and give Nina a genuine smile. “Good choice.”
She takes another sip and glances at the empty stool beside me. “Where’s your date?”
“I don’t date. I fuck and move on.”
“I remember.” She swirls her straw thoughtfully. “I’m just surprised you’re done already. No fancy hotel room this time?”
She’s testing me, trying to get under my skin. It’s working, but not in the way she thinks. Instead of making me angry, her sass just makes me want her more.
“Let’s focus on something else,” I say. “Like the fact that we work together and should probably figure out how to do that without one of us committing homicide.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m perfectly professional.”
I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she freezes. I shouldn’t touch her. I tell myself that even as my hand lifts. Her skin is softer than silk, and she starts to lean into my touch before catching herself.
“What are you doing?” she asks, but her voice has gone breathy.
“Just making conversation.” I let my fingers trail down to her shoulder, brushing along the strap of her lingerie. “I liked your routine tonight.”
The air between us crackles with electricity. She leans forward just a fraction, and I can smell her vanilla perfume. It’s warm and sweet, nothing like Amber’s heavy scent.
But this isn’t about that. I’m supposed to be getting to know Nina.
We make small talk for a few minutes, and she seems in no hurry to work the floor. She relaxes as we chat about her old job waiting tables, and it doesn’t take long for me to realize she’s a hell of a hard worker.
“So I have to ask. Why are you here? Why strip?”
Her guard goes back up instantly. “Maybe I like it. Maybe I feel empowered.”
“Bullshit.” I lean closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her gray eyes. “I’ve been running this place long enough to spot a nervous dancer. You were scared shitless that first night. This isn’t about empowerment.”
She swallows hard, and I can see her weighing how much to tell me.
“Money motivates me,” she says finally. “I couldn’t make decent money waiting tables without killing myself. I want something better than that.”
She’s still holding back. I can feel it in the way she won’t quite meet my gaze, in the tension that’s suddenly radiating from her body.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I snap, harsher than I mean to. “More of your ex’s debts catching up with you? Using your body worked once, so now it’s your fallback?”
The words are out before I can stop them, and I know immediately I’ve fucked up. Her expression turns glacial, and she looks like she wants to introduce me to another broken bottle.
“No, asshole,” she snaps. “I’m doing this so I can afford to take care of my child.”