inside screamed wealth-gold accents on black marble walls, chandeliers tha

heels clicking nervously across the polished floor. Her friend, Tasha, w

ng her up and down. "You look hot. T

I shouldn't be he

You're just serving drinks. Smiling. Collecting tips

lub shimmered with danger. She could feel it

how to carry the tray, how to speak. No touching. No

he ca

er didn't pause. But somehow, ev

o tie. Just the open collar of a crisp shirt exposing a strong throat and the hint of

her. Cold. Dark. Dangerous. Lik

, flanked by two guards, and sat like a king recla

t, he

like he was already imagining what she looked like without the coa

fr

hands, her mouth suddenly dry.

e whispered sharp

m w

. Owner of half this city. And a mafia lord. Dangerous as hell. Women offer

the bartender walk over to Damien, whi

r face. He leaned back in h

her t

. "Holy shit. He's never

stripper,"

nows

at

t's just one night. Go talk to him. Smile. Serve. If he to

did

patience of a predator. His stare didn't waver. It was clear: he

aling the deep-cut dress that barely held her curves. She fe

sh. "Go. Before someone el

he w

cluded, curtained with velvet, golden light casting shadows on his

of him, tray tremblin

curled on his

mooth. Dangerous. Lik

ring?" she asked, trying

from her face to her chest, her wa

" he