Stripped - A Forbidden Hot Boss Romance

I still wasn’t convinced. “Why us?”

“You guys know the business.” He shrugged.

I huffed out a laugh. “Hardly. Night clubs and strip clubs are two vastly different things.”

“Are they?” Jonny tilted his head to one side. “We’re all in the business of making people part with their money. Of making them forget about the real world for a while. We sell a fantasy, if only for a few hours.”

As much as I didn’t want to like Johnny, he was a nice guy and proved that appearances could be deceiving. He wasn’t a mobster or a drug runner. From the way he spoke, he seemed to genuinely enjoy his job.

However, agreeing to become part owner in a strip joint still felt wrong. Almost like I was betraying my mother.

After ten more minutes of questioning Johnny and going over small details, he left.

“I’m in,” Liam announced. “The Bachelor would be a good addition to our clubs and bars.”

“Count me in,” Jack added.

Noah nodded and grinned. “I’ll be in charge of hiring the talent. I’ll personally audition them.”

They all looked at me expectantly. I pursed my lips and shook my head. “I don’t know. Is this good for our brand?”

Liam sighed. “Personal feelings aside, Shane, you know this is a good deal. He’s practically giving the place away. Think with your head, not your heart. But if you feel that strongly, then we’ll walk away. From day one, we all agreed if one of us was out, we were all out.”

I drummed my fingers against the polished tabletop. I wasn’t sure if I could put my personal feelings aside. I wasn’t sure if I could think with my head and not my heart. The numbers were good—better than good. The income from drinks alone outshone our highest-earning club, and the cut from the talent, as Johnny referred to them, was jaw-dropping.

I blew out a long breath and looked at the ceiling. “Don’t make me regret this.”

I had a feeling I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.Chapter Two - AlyssaWith one last glance at my reflection, I smoothed my hands over my hair, making sure there wasn’t a strand out of place. Maintaining the vibrant cherry-red color consisted of numerous and expensive visits to the stylist every two weeks.

My bright red hair, along with my red bra, panties, and shoes, were all part of my act and were part of the reason I’d earned the nickname Red Velvet. All the customers wanted to taste and lick my cream, but none ever would. They all thought they were in with a chance of taking me home for the night—as if. I didn’t date, and I especially wouldn’t date anyone involved with the club.

Men were only good for one thing—stuffing money inside my stockings and G-string. I didn’t need a man in my life. Heck, I hadn’t even had a dad. Growing up, my life had zero male input or influence. I didn’t need love, and if I ever felt horny, I only needed my fingers or my vibrator. I was self-sufficient. Always had been and always would be.

My mom kicked me out when I turned fourteen. My crime? Being sassy and disrespectful for not following her rules. Her crimes were much worse than mine. There wasn’t a pill she didn’t love.

I sighed and shook my head. I was a hormonal teenager for crying out loud. What teenager didn’t give their parents some sass and push boundaries? I moved from the leafy Atlanta suburbs into foster care, fell in with the wrong people, and did stuff I wasn’t proud of to survive.

At sixteen, I marched into The Bachelor and asked to audition for a job. I lied about my age and said I was eighteen, but Johnny saw right through me. He took pity on me, though, and gave me a job cleaning up tables.

When I turned eighteen, Johnny’s wife, Phyllis, God rest her soul, taught me how to use the pole and work the crowd. I’d been dancing and doing gymnastics since the age of five, so I could move and was more than flexible.

My strip tease career started five years ago. The first night I went on stage, although I was a bag of nerves, I brought in twice as much as every other girl. Since then, the guys came to see me, and everyone knew it. The old-timers accused me of taking all their money—tough shit. I busted my ass for every cent I earned.

Last year, I’d splurged on a house, but besides that, I lived frugally and saved as much as I could. One day, I would own The Bachelor and run it the way I wanted. Johnny was a few years away from retiring, and when he did, he promised I could buy the club.

Candy, one of my besties, strutted into the locker room, glitter covering her naked body. “You’re on. Be warned, there’s a bachelor party in. They’re all drunk and asking for blow jobs. Fuckers.”