All That Glitters Is My Stepdad.

Cierra's POV

"Mom, you have to be kidding me..."

I stood in the middle of my bedroom, staring down at my phone like it had personally betrayed me. Mom was on FaceTime, newly applied bridal makeup still perfect despite the chaos she was dealing with in court.

"I am not kidding. It's just for an hour," she insisted, voice too calm for the madness she was asking for.

I scoffed. "What if George comes in?"

"George doesn't need to know," she said. "Cierra, can't you do one tiny thing for your mother?"

"It's not tiny," I muttered. "He's going to know."

"There's no way he will. We both work out, same body shape..." she waved her hand casually.

"My boobs are fuller," I cut in.

She laughed. "That is why I love you, my baby."

"Mom, don't fucking try to bribe me with love."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about love," she said, smirking. "I was going to bribe you with something better."

I narrowed my eyes. "Get the vibrator after your court case."

"Cierra Monroe! What the hell?"

"That's the only bribe my soul recognizes."

We both burst into laughter, the kind that made my chest tighten from the knowledge that none of this was actually funny.

"Thank you so much, sweetie," she said genuinely.

"Thank goodness veil removal is optional. He'll just see the... mini you," I teased.

She snorted. "Exactly. The perfect decoy bride."

I sobered and looked at her carefully. "Mom... you will win this case, right?"

She hesitated for half a second... too long.

"I always win. Trust your mother."

"I do. But why would they withhold your flight ticket if the situation isn't serious?"

She sighed. "Well, your mom is a..."

My doorbell rang loudly, cutting her off.

"Duty calls," I said with a groan.

"Sure," she said. "But remember..."

"I know, I know. A secret between a mother and daughter stays between a mother and daughter."

"That's my girl." She blew a kiss and the call cut.

I dropped the phone on my bed. "Oh, fuck. This week is going to be a crazy-ass week."

I opened the door...and froze.

My boyfriend.

No, not my boyfriend.

My ex.

George Don.

Looking like he'd forgotten how to breathe, let alone speak.

"Um... hello?" I forced out.

"Cierra..." he breathed, like my name still belonged on his tongue.

I stepped aside. "Come in."

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I grabbed the nearest cigarette and lit it. His eyes followed every move, hunger dripping from his stare.

"So... why are you here?" I asked, exhaling smoke toward him.

"Call me an obsessed ex," he said with a half-smirk.

"Oh, right," I said. "So you walked the earth searching for better coochie and discovered they could never beat mine?"

He chuckled. "Nice guess."

My eyes narrowed. "Shut up, motherfucker."

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, I shoved the cigarette between his lips and pushed him backward onto my couch, climbing onto his lap like instinct had taken over.

He lifted me effortlessly, carried me into the bathroom, pressing me against the wet tiles, water splashing over both of us. His jeans dropped to the floor, his cock hard and heavy against my thigh.

"Say you want it," he growled against my lips.

I gasped. "I want it."

He didn't wait. His hand shoved up my gown, ripping my panties down. My legs wrapped around his waist, he rubbed his cock as he slammed into me, deep, hard, brutal.

"Ohhh fuck..." I cried, biting into his shoulder as he fucked me against the wall, water pouring down on us.

He grunted, his hand choking me lightly, eyes dark and wild. "You like that, don't you? Being ruined by someone you know shouldn't be in your life anymore.."

"Yes...oh god yes," I moaned, nails digging into his back.

He flipped me, bending me over the sink, slamming into me harder, faster. My reflection in the mirror showed me: messy hair, parted lips, eyes gone wild with lust. I didn't even recognize myself.

He spanked me, the sound echoing in the steam. "Take it."

I screamed his name...no...I screamed nonsense, screamed pleasure, screamed everything I'd been holding in..

He sighed. "Fuck."

"You love it, don't you?" He turned me, grabbing my waist as he kissed me deeply, passionately but I was never a girl of passion as he dragged my shirt down to my bare breast.

I took his hands and traced them to my nipples as he bit my tongue, kissing me like this could be our last make out.

"Fuck, you must be starving..." He said as i moaned 'mhmm' under my breath.

I raised my legs, spreading them wide open for easy penetration as he adjusted and pulled out his cock.

"C'mon, slide it all in." I said, rubbing his cock.

"Fuck fuck, do it however you please, princess." He whispered, feeling the warmth of my hand on his cock.

I stroked his cock profusely before inserting it...

He felt my tight pussy compressed as he began moving in slowly.

"Fast, please." I moaned out as he held my neck and began thrusting fast.

He ploughed non-stop as i gave out sounds of pleasure, He held my legs tightly, as he kept fucking me deep, hitting every corner of my pussy.

He leaned closer, kissing and fumbling my breast...Just as his hands slid up my back..

A knock.

He frozed.

"No. No, ignore it," I hissed.

Again...Knock. Knock.

Insistent. Sharp.

Then, a white envelope slid under my door, gliding across the floor like a threat.

George sat back. "Is it bad?"

I picked up the envelope...thick paper, gold seal, expensive trouble.

My name handwritten across the front.

I ripped it open.

Read.

And felt my stomach drop into hell itself.

"Oh... what the actual fuck..."

"Worse than bad?" George asked carefully.

I swallowed hard, fingers trembling as I stared at the shocking words stamped inside.

"Much worse," I said... because the universe had officially lost its mind.

Cierra's POV

I stared at the paper in my hand like it was a death sentence wrapped in an envelope. My heart was still slamming from the moment I picked it off the floor. My ex.... George....was still standing there, eyes narrowed like he was trying to read my soul through my damn forehead.

"What's that?" he asked, chin jerking toward the letter still trembling between my fingers.

I blinked fast, masking the panic rising in my throat. "Nothing. Duty calls. You know... life," I lied, sliding it behind my back like it could disappear.

George stepped closer, a wicked smirk curling his lips. "I thought I was your duty call."

He reached out to touch my waist but I slapped his hand away instantly. "Don't get too comfortable," I said, trying to sound composed. "You're here because I was bored, not because I missed you."

He scoffed. "Right. You light a cigarette, sit your sexy ass on top of me, and suddenly you're Mother Teresa?"

"I didn't ask you to come here," I shot back.

"You didn't tell me not to," he shrugged, leaning back against my wall like he owned the place.

I stepped away, tossing the cigarette butt into a cup. "Look, George, this isn't happening. Not today."

"Oh, so now you're done? Just like that?" His voice dripped bitterness.

I crossed my arms. "Just like that."

His jaw tightened. "You used me."

I laughed dryly. "Used you? Baby, if I used you, you'd still be smiling."

His nostrils flared. "You're unbelievable."

"That's what they all say." I opened the door pointedly.

He hesitated only a second before storming past me. "Have fun with your 'duty,' Cierra."

As soon as he stepped out, I muttered under my breath, "Suck my balls, fool."

Door slammed. Silence.

I leaned against it, cursing everything and everyone including the universe that had a personal vendetta against me. That damn letter felt heavier now. I sighed, grabbed my phone and dialed my mom.

She picked in one ring, like she'd been waiting.

"Baby?"

"Mum," I started, pacing the room. "Why the hell didn't you tell me the wedding is tomorrow?"

She exhaled dramatically. "I just checked my messages. Dominic's assistant sent the update. The date got moved up...he wants everything done quickly."

I stopped. "So I'm supposed to get married in 24 hours? Like I'm some...Amazon Prime delivery bride?"

"Cierra," she groaned. "Don't make this worse. His family must not think we're unserious."

"Oh right," I laughed bitterly, "because if they start digging, they'll realize you are a sad drug dealer who dresses like a slay Queen and has anger issues."

She paused. "Exactly. So let's avoid that."

"Mum!" I hissed.

"It's one day," she insisted. "One ceremony. One veil. You literally just need to stand still and look pretty."

"I didn't sign up for this."

"Well, technically you did when you agreed to pretend to be me."

I groaned into my palms. "This is insane."

"We've been through worse," she said softly.

I hated that she was right.

I took a breath. "Fine. I'm heading to a glam store. I need a veil. A gown. Shoes. Whatever the fuck brides wear when they're being conned."

She chuckled. "That's my girl."

"Please tell me you can fund my account?" I asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, baby," she winced. "The court froze my finances temporarily."

I rolled my eyes with a smirk. "Not like you got money in there anyway."

We both laughed...a tired, broke-ass laugh.

"Call me after you choose something," she said.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled and hung up.

I threw on a black oversized hoodie, low brim face cap, and tucked my hair into the back. The goal was to look like a runaway teenage boy. Mission accomplished.

Ride booked. Fifteen minutes later, I slid into the backseat of a Honda that smelled like hopes, dreams, and heavy cologne.

Halfway there, my phone buzzed... Cassie..

My co-worker. My girl.

"Where are you?" she asked immediately.

"Breathing," I said evasively.

She snorted. "At least your lungs are working. Work is boring without you. And uh...our junior manager? He keeps asking about you."

I rolled my eyes. "Bitch if he asks again, give him the middle finger from me."

She burst out laughing. "Why are you like this?"

"Genetics," I mumbled.

"Seriously though, where you at?"

My throat tightened. Lie loading... lie failing...

"Gotta go!" I blurted and hung up instantly.

Damn I'm terrible at lying.

The car stopped. Store time.

I paid, jumped out, inhaled deeply.

"Okay," I whispered to myself. "Here we go."

***

The glam shop looked like bridal heaven came down and vomited glitter.

The bell above the door chimed as I walked in. A polished woman with a fake but sweet smile approached me immediately.

"Welcome! And congratulations!"

I fake laughed. "Thanks. Yay... marriage..." My voice was flat as hell.

She clasped her hands. "What kind of gown are we looking for?"

"Something elegant. Hot enough to make old people choke on their food."

She giggled. "Right this way."

She showed me tons: feathered, glittered, ones that looked like doilies from grandma's shelf.

Then I saw it.

A dress glowing under soft white lights:

Sleek satin

Corset bodice

Deep V cut

Silver beaded lace trailing down like tiny crystals..A slit high enough to make nuns faint.... And that long veil.. sheer, glimmering, sexy

My kind of chaos.

"That one," I breathed.

"Oh you have excellent taste," the woman said.

When I tried it on, I barely recognized myself. The boobs were sitting. Waist snatched. Hips? Dominican auntie level.

For a moment... I liked me.

The woman squealed. "You look divine!"

"Yeah," I smirked at myself. "I know."

They packed it up for me. I headed to the counter.

Card in hand.

Suddenly... BANG...door flung open.

And him.

The man.

My soon-to-be stepfather.

Dominic.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Expensive suit. Veins. Jawline sharp enough to slice bread. Eyes like sin dipped in whiskey.

I forgot how to breathe.

He walked with confidence that screamed danger and sex and trouble. I swallowed so hard my throat clicked.

My card slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the ground near him.

He bent down, picked it up, and smirked... slow, cocky, devastating.

"You dropped this while staring at me," he said in a deep voice that could be illegal.

My mouth ran ahead of my brain.

"Fuck," I whispered. "I'm doomed."

His eyes glinted like he knew exactly why.

Cierra.

They called me Midnight Ballerina.

Yes. That was my name under the neon lights.

It was 11 p.m. and night duty called...not the kind where you clock in, sharpen pencils, or type invoices.

No.

The kind where you hold a pole and sway your ass like it's the last thing the world has left to worship.

The more sway, the more dollars. The more arch in your back, the more they rain. More desire, more currency. That was the trade.

I sat in front of the mirror in my room...applying the final stroke of red gloss that shimmered like sin under low light.

My hair, dark and voluminous, fell like a wave down my shoulders. My outfit? A black velvet two-piece - bikini-cut bottom with rhinestones that rode high on the hips, and a matching top that barely covered what men came here to stare at.

A silver thigh chain hugged my leg, clinking with every subtle move. Stilettoes, sharp enough to stab a man's ego.

I inhaled.

Exhaled.

Tonight wasn't just any night. It was my last night here at Flamingo Club.

The last night before I would step into a new world...a world where I was supposed to look polished, elegant, and married. A world where I would stand beside a polished, elegant man and pretend I belonged.

I stared at my reflection, head tilted as my chest tightened.

"Fuck," I whispered to myself. "Last night as a stripper before everything changes."

Right then, my phone vibrated. Blinky... my best friend, roommate, partner in chaos, FaceTiming me with that goofy Memoji of his that never matched the real him.

I picked the call, camera pointed at my face as I adjusted my gloss.

"Girl! No, no, no! Don't tell me you stepping out lookin' like anxiety and sadness mixed together," he scolded dramatically.

I laughed. "I'm almost done. Calm down."

"Almost done my ass. It's your last night here. You should be giving legendary! You should look like they'll cry when you gone!"

"I'm fine, Blink."

And I was... or I wanted to be. I wasn't supposed to tell him everything yet. Not about the man. Not about the wedding. Not about the life waiting to swallow me whole.

But Blinky? He wasn't just a friend. He was chosen family.

He popped gum loudly. "Anywayyy, come fast. We got big fishes tonight."

"How big?" I asked, raising a brow.

"It's somebody's birthday... rich men... men that change cars like you change your undies."

"Are you calling me dirty?" I gasped.

"I'm calling you high maintenance," he said, winking.

We joked, laughed, teased..our usual ritual, as I grabbed my bag and walked out of my room to order a car.

I leaned against the gate, eyes scanning the dark street. I am a dancer, I reminded myself. Not a prostitute. I touched a finger to my glossed lips. Pole dancing paid better than waitressing, better than anything legal I could get without a degree. And I needed money. Badly.

The wedding...

I couldn't walk into my mother's new life looking like the broke daughter who didn't belong.

A ride arrived. I hopped in, put in my headphones, and let the passing streetlights blur into streaks of gold. My reflection in the window stared back at me.

"Just tonight," I murmured. "Then everything changes."

***

The club thumped with bass so loud it shook the bones under your skin. I pushed the back door open to find Chelsea... my immediate boss, five-foot-nothing with a BBL that entered the room three seconds before she did. Black American queen with a mouth that never rested.

"Oh look who finally shows up," she snapped, arms folded, nails glittering. "Miss too-good-to-text-back."

"We texted like... twenty minutes ago?" I blinked.

She rolled her neck. "Tonight ain't regular dance, baby. We distributing girls personally to the VIPs. Birthday boys got money with extra zeroes."

"So... I'm not needed?" I tried.

Her laugh was petty and long. "You? Of course you needed. But ain't nobody tipping no pole tonight. You makin' out for money instead."

I stiffened. "You know I don't do that, Chelsea."

She clapped sarcastically. "Then guess who ain't getting a dime!"

My jaw tensed. "I dance. That's what I'm paid for."

"And tonight," she leaned close, breath minty and mean, "you doing more than that."

We were seconds from war when Blinky slid between us like a sparkly referee.

"Okayyyy ladies, claws down." He turned to me softly. "Cee, just tonight. I promise. Last night. Okay?"

I swallowed hard.

Because he was right.

I needed the money.

To not look like a poor bride beside a king.

"One night," I whispered. "And that's all."

He cheered quietly, kissing my cheek.

Chelsea strutted off with that I-won attitude. I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out. Blinky squeezed my hand.

"You got this. And hey... mask party tonight."

Two joys hit me;

'Mask party = super wealthy clientele.

'I wouldn't see who I was assigned to.

Perfect.

***

In the dressing corridor, Chelsea bumped me with her hip, then eyed my curves.

"You got the ass, the waist, the everything," she said with fake sweetness. "Shape like that... only good for decoration."

"At least mine is real," I fired back. "No monthly BBL maintenance needed."

She gasped like I stabbed her pride. "Keep playin' with me, ballerina."

Before she could start more drama, Madame... our club director...entered. A composed Latina woman in a satin suit who never smiled but paid well.

She handed me a sleek silver card.

Room number: V92

VIP Floor.

No name.

Just a location.

"Do well," Madame said with a tight nod before exiting.

Chelsea smirked. "Better learn quick, princess. Maybe watch a YouTube tutorial.... 'How to satisfy a masked millionaire 101.'"

"Fuck off, Chelsea."

"I plan to," she winked and walked away laughing.

Blinky hugged me again. "You're safe. I'll be nearby."

I nodded, heart pounding.

I tied the velvet black mask over my face...lace trimming my features, added one more coat of lip gloss, and steadied my breath. Then I strutted through dim corridors, each strobe light flashing like warning signs from fate.

Up the golden staircase to the VIP hall... men in tailored suits, all masked, whispered behind black bottles of champagne and cigars that cost rent.

Wealth had a smell.

Sharp. Intoxicating. Dangerous.

I found door V92 and reached for the gold handle.

One twist and the rest of my life could shift.

My fingers hovered... breath frozen.

"Hello, princess," a voice said behind me.

Slow. Dark. Velvety.

The kind of voice that made your knees second-guess their purpose.

I turned.

And my entire existence halted.

The man was tall. Broad shoulders under a fitted midnight suit. A black mask covering half his face

... but his jawline, sharp as a blade, was unmistakable. His hair... dark, thick, styled back like wealth itself kissed every strand. His presence hit the hallway with a silent command.

My heart attempted to leap out of my chest.

He smiled, and it was slow... dangerous... familiar.

"Can I know where this room number is?" he asked, eyes dipping briefly to the silver card in his hand.

I tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Because I knew that voice.

I knew that stance.

I knew that energy.

He belonged to the world I was about to enter.

The world where I had to pretend to belong.

My lips parted.

"What..." I breathed.

Then louder...my confusion spiking into panic..

"What the actual fuck?"

His head tilted, interest flaring behind the mask.

The air between us tightened...electric, wrong, magnetic.

He took a step closer.

And that was when I noticed something unmistakably strapped beneath his suit jacket...

A wedding ring.

On his left hand.

And my entire soul dropped.

Because tomorrow...

my mother would be marrying a man with a ring just like that.

And I prayed to God it wasn't who I thought it was.

His eyes traced my body...slowly...deliberately.... like he already owned what he saw.

A smirk carved into his lips.

"Well," he murmured, voice dripping danger,

"this night just got interesting."