Stripped - A Forbidden Hot Boss Romance

Since we’d taken over, my opinion of strippers was changing. From what I’d witnessed, none were on the lookout for a baby daddy. They just wanted to earn their money and go home. When they were here, they acted professionally.

I zoomed in on Alyssa. Something wasn’t right. Her movements became jerky, and the look on her face was one of annoyance.

I watched as she took the groom’s hands and placed them on his lap. She waggled her finger in his face, then continued to dance.

I zoomed in as close as I could. The bastard lifted his hands again and placed them on her hips. She extracted his hands and once again put them on his lap.

I stood. Where the fuck were the bouncers? When it came to lap dances, their job was to watch the girls closely.

The fucker reached up and grabbed her breasts. She pushed away from him.

Enough was enough. I stormed out of the office. When I reached her, I picked the groom up by the lapels and got in his face.

“Get the fuck out before I fucking kill you. You know the rules. No touching.”

The rest of the guests in his party tried to yank me away. I wasn’t a small guy, and it would take more than five drunk men to pry my hands off the asshole.

Deke, Blade, and the other bouncers appeared as if out of nowhere, rounded up the bachelor party, and threw them out. I personally ejected the groom.

I rounded on Blade. “Where the fuck were you? It’s your job to make sure nothing like that ever happens. We’re paying you to protect the girls from dickwads like that.”

“It’s a busy night, boss,” he said. “We were dealing with a similar situation with Candy. She can’t handle herself as well as Alyssa. I’m already looking into hiring more men for nights like this. I guarantee it won’t happen again.”

I nodded. “It had better not.”

I stormed through the club toward the locker room and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Alyssa called.

She was in tight black jeans and a baggy white T-shirt. She’d wiped off all of her makeup and wore her hair in a high ponytail. She’d never looked sexier.

She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Was there something you wanted?”

I cleared my throat. “I wanted to apologize for what happened tonight. You should never have been on your own while dancing for those men.”

She shrugged and sighed like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, and it’s something that will happen again and again and again. A lot of the men don’t see us as human beings. They see us as toys. As things they can possess. As things they can treat however they want. We’re make-believe. Therefore, we’re not real. Therefore, we don’t deserve respect.” She picked up a black hold-all and slung it over her shoulder. “The secret to not letting it get you down is to know your self-worth and to separate real life with this one. Within the walls of the club, I’m Red Velvet. Once I’m outside, I’m Alyssa Holden.”

Shame filled me. Was I like the men she’d described? “I promise I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Great.” The disbelief in her eyes told me she thought I was bullshitting.

I wasn’t. One way or another, I would fix this.***

On Monday morning, my partners and I met at our downtown office for our weekly state-of-the-union meeting.

An untouched bagel and cup of coffee sat in front of me. “If we’re going to stay in this business, we’re going to have to do more to protect the girls. There’s been too many incidents and not enough men to take care of them. No one can touch the dancers or the wait staff. It’s our job to make them feel safe.”

They all nodded in agreement, then Liam spoke up. “We’ll enforce the three strikes and you’re out rule, but I don’t think we need to do any more than that.”

I shook my head. “Not going to work. From now on, one strike and you’re out. The second someone lifts their hand to touch one of the girls, they’re banned for life.”

The three of them shifted in their seats, then looked at one another before turning their attention back to me.

“That’s too harsh,” Noah said. “We’ll lose business. Let’s see how it goes this week.”

I gritted my teeth. “If I’m going to run the club, I’m going to run it my way.”

Jack drummed his fingers against the conference table. “It’s too much, man.”

“It’s not too much,” I countered. “How would you feel if a man felt up your sister at work? How would you feel if someone decided it was okay to grab her tits while she made his coffee?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s not? You sure about that? The strippers are entitled to a safe space to work like everybody else.”