Stripper For The Mafia Brothers

(VALENTINO'S POV)

My life... is going great.

I'm relaxed, leaning back in my seat with a drink in my hand, watching my girls spinning on the poles, arching their backs, grinding, twerking, and letting their bodies tease the lust out of every man in the room.

One of the dancers takes off her bra, flashing her large breasts at all the horny men in the club. Another slides to the bottom of the pole and spread her legs while rolling her hips seductively. Another grips the pole, dropping to her knees and shaking her ass to the bass thumping through the speakers.

And the money? The money keeps raining down like confetti until the floors are covered in it.

Every single dime they throw at my girls, every crumpled dollar bill they tuck into the strap of their thongs and in between their boobs, eventually ends up in my pocket.

The strip club? Mine.

The girls? Mine.

The money? All mine.

Thing is, there's no one in Las Vegas who doesn't know the name "Valentino Vipera". My name opens doors, closes mouths, and makes people's blood run cold all at once. You hear it whispered in high-stakes poker rooms, shouted over bass-heavy music in clubs, and murmured in back alleys where deals get made and lives get sold. I built this empire from the ground up-bled for it, fought for it-until every corner of this goddamn city bent to me.

Now they call me the King of Sin City.

And they should. Because in Sin City, everyone's selling something-their body, their soul, or their loyalty. The trick is making sure they're selling it to me.

I swallow, sipping on my wine as my eyes linger on the dancers and their sweat-slicked bodies gyrating to the music, seductively biting their lips as they touch themselves.

What a beautiful sight.

To be honest, I'm entranced by the girls too. Every now and then, my cock twitches in my pants as I watch them do their thing.

Like I said, my life is going grea-

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" someone screams from the other side of the club. "I'M GONNA BREAK THOSE FUCKING HANDS IF YOU TRY ME!"

I sit up immediately, stretching my neck to see what's going on.

The music screeches to a stop. The strippers turn to each other, asking what's going on. Even the lustful men finally rip their eyes away from boobs and ass, everyone's attention now drawn to the commotion coming from across the club.

I stand up and start to walk toward the noise, weaving through the crowd. By the time I reach the source of the shouting, I hear the sound of glass shatter just as my eyes lock on one of my dancers as she smashes a bottle on a guy's head.

Everyone in the club gasps.

The guy staggers but recovers quickly and takes a swing at her. She dodges the first punch, ducks under the second then lands a punch across his face that sends him flying backwards.

The guy staggers back to his feet, blood dripping from his nose. He touches it, sees the red on his fingers, and his face twists with rage.

"YOU BITCH! YOU JUST BROKE MY FUCKING NOSE!" he screams, spit flying from his mouth.

The dancer doesn't even flinch. She claps her hands once, her chest heaving as she shouts back, "That's what you deserve trying to get handsy with me."

The whole club is frozen, waiting for whatever comes next.

The bastard growls and charges like a bull, grabbing her throat with both hands. That's when I move. I don't think. I just step in and slam my palms into his chest, shoving him so hard he goes flying to the ground again, coughing as he hits the floor.

"Hey, hey, hey. Stop," I say, one arm stretched out to hold the girl back when she tries to lunge at him again.

Her chest is rising and falling fast, her fists still balled like she wants to rip him apart, but she meets my eyes and nods reluctantly.

"Tell me what happened here?" I ask her, my voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

She points her finger at the idiot on the floor. "That bastard grabbed my boobs. I told him to stop, but he laughed and did it again. I warned him the second time and then he squeezed my ass instead, so..." she gestures to the broken glass still glittering on the floor, "...I broke the fucking bottle on his head."

The guy coughs, trying to push himself up. His face is a mess of blood and sweat, but he still has the balls to sneer. "You're already parading yourself half-naked, shaking your ass for strangers, and you get mad that I just wanted to feel you up? Please. You're a slut. Women like you don't get to have standards."

A hush falls over the room. I can feel every single set of eyes on me.

I chuckle low, shaking my head as I take a step toward him. The guy blinks, confusion flickering in his eyes just before my fist cracks across his jaw. His body hits the floor hard, teeth clacking together as blood sprays from his mouth.

The crowd gasps. The music is still off. It's dead silent except for the guy groaning at my feet.

I crouch next to him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt so he hears me clearly through the ringing in his skull. "Club rules. No touching the dancers without their consent. If you want a lap dance, you pay up. If she doesn't agree, there are plenty of other girls. But you? You're done here."

"Boss, what's going on here?"

I glance over my shoulder. Leo is standing there, his brows furrowed, arms folded.

I stand up, brushing off my hands, smirking at him. "It's nothing," I say casually, tapping him on the back like this is just another Friday night.

I signal to a couple of my bouncers with a jerk of my chin. They don't need more than that. They grab the bloody bastard off the floor and drag him toward the door, ignoring his groans and half-formed curses.

When I turn back, the whole club is still staring. All those wide eyes, waiting to see if the show's really over.

I raise my voice with a grin. "What are you all staring at? Turn the music back on!"

The DJ doesn't hesitate. The bass drops again, lights spin, and the crowd erupts like nothing happened. Drinks are lifted, girls get back on the poles, and the tension melts back into lust and money.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders, then look back at the dancer. She's still catching her breath, but she's calmer now. I sigh, softer this time. "Sorry about that."

She smiles at me, the corners of her lips tugging up as she shakes her head. "It's okay. Thanks for stepping in when you did."

I laugh, the sound rough and amused. "Can't have anyone trying to mess with my money makers."

My eyes wander, and I take her in properly for the first time. Long blonde hair with streaks of pink and purple, falling over her full, plump tits in waves. Curves that don't quit. Thick thighs that look even better up close. That crystal-studded micro-bikini clinging to her, barely covering her nipples, barely hiding the sweet little pussy beneath it.

I catch myself staring too long, licking my lips like I'm starving. Clearing my throat, I finally say, "Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"

Her brows lift. "You sure?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Least I could do after what just happened. I can call you an Uber if you like."

She gives me a smile, softer now, and nods. "Thanks. I'd love that. I'll just head back to the dressing room and get changed."

"Alright. Meet me at the entrance when you're done."

She nods again and starts walking away. I watch the sway of her ass, the way it bounces with each step, my tongue caught between my teeth.

"Goddamn," I mutter under my breath, adjusting myself as the crowd roars back to life around me.

(VALENTINO'S POV)

I lean against the wall with my drink, swirling it lazily as I wait for her. The club is alive like nothing ever happened, but my head is still buzzing from the way she looked walking off.

Thick thighs. Round ass. That little sparkle from her bikini that barely covered anything. The kind of body that could distract even a man like me, and trust me, I've seen it all.

A couple minutes later she comes back out, now dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a cropped tank top that still showed off more than enough. Her hair's tied up in a messy bun, but a few strands fall loose, brushing her cheeks.

Fuck. She looks even hotter like this.

She flashes me a quick smile, her lips glossy, her bag slung over one shoulder. "All set."

I nod, pushing off the wall. "Good. Let's go."

Outside, the air is cooler, the city still humming with late-night life. The valet is busy with some flashy cars pulling up, but I wave my hand and one of my guys is already pulling up an Uber for her. She stands close, hugging her arms, and I catch the faint scent of vanilla off her skin.

"Rough night," I say casually. "Not the first time some asshole crossed the line?"

She snorts, rolling her eyes. "You'd be surprised. Guys think because we dance half naked, we're basically up for grabs. Like we're not allowed to have boundaries."

I exhale, chuckling low. "Yeah, well you really dealt with him yourself. Can't lie, you got some moves girl. Where'd you learn to fight like that."

She smirks, tilting her head just enough for a few strands of hair to fall loose around her face. Her blue eyes glint in the streetlight, that kind of sharp glint that tells me she's not just another girl who stumbled onto a stage for easy cash.

"Let's just say I've had some practice..." she says, her voice low, a little playful, a little dangerous. Then she leans in closer, her lips brushing the rim of my ear when she adds, "...and I don't let anyone put their hands where they don't belong."

I chuckle, the sound rumbling in my chest, because fuck-she's good. Confident. Not like most girls who just giggle and look away when I throw a question at them.

I pull back to look her over again, slower this time, like I'm trying to read between her curves and her smirk. "Practice, huh? I'll buy that. But something tells me you've done more than just practice."

She doesn't flinch, doesn't stutter, doesn't even try to look innocent. She just smirks wider, crossing her arms under her tits so they sit high and full, almost daring me to keep staring.

"Maybe," she says, shrugging.

My eyes trail over her body again, slow enough that she notices. She bites her lip but doesn't look away.

Ballsy. I like that.

"You're really confident, and feisty. I love that."

She lets out a little laugh, soft but real. "But really," she says, brushing a strand of hair back, "thank you for stepping in when you did. You didn't have to, but... I'm really glad you did."

I play it cool, giving her a lazy grin. "What can I say? I don't like watching my investments get roughed up."

Her lips twitch into another smile, and for some reason, it makes my chest feel lighter. I clear my throat, straightening up a little. "I don't think I've introduced myself properly." I hold out my hand. "Valentino Vipera. Owner of Il Palazzo del Peccato (The Palace of Sin)."

Her eyes flick to my hand, then up to my face, before she slides her palm against mine. Her skin is warm, and so soft.

"I know," she says simply. "I've seen you around a couple times before. And believe me, the other girls can't stop gushing about you."

"Oh really? And what are they saying about me?"

"They think you're hot," she replies. "They're literally dying to get your attention. And that you're drop-dead gorgeous."

I step in closer, closing some of that space between us, lowering my voice just enough to make it sting. "And what about you? What do you think? Am I drop-dead gorgeous?"

Her mouth curves into a sly grin. "Well, I can't lie. You're handsome but..." she shrugs, almost too casually, "...you're not my type."

That makes me laugh. I tilt my head back, letting it roll out of me. "Wow. Way to burst my bubble."

She presses her lips into a thin line like she's trying not to laugh too, and the sight almost makes me forget we're still standing outside my club with half the city buzzing around us.

But then something hits me, and my amusement drops a notch. I narrow my eyes, studying her closer. "Your face... it's not familiar. I know every girl in my club, but I don't remember ever seeing you before tonight."

She doesn't miss a beat. "I'm a new hire. Been working here for about a week now."

That smooth answer makes me smile again. "And what's your name, babygirl?"

Her lips part, her tone dipping into something sultry. "Christina. But you can call me Krystal. With a K."

"Krystal." I roll it on my tongue, nodding. "Nice ring to it. You can call me Val."

"Thanks," she says softly.

Just then, headlights sweep the curb as the Uber pulls up, slowing to a stop in front of us.

"Looks like my ride's here," she says.

Before I can get another word out, she steps in, closing the distance and wrapping her arms around me. I freeze, caught off guard, my brain scrambling to catch up as her body presses against mine.

Her lips hover by my ear, her voice dropping low. "Thanks again, Val. I really appreciate what you did for me tonight."

By the time she pulls back, I'm stiff as a statue. I clear my throat, forcing myself to act like I'm unfazed. "Yeah... sure."

She slips into the car, the door shuts, and she waves at me through the glass. I raise a hand back, watching as the Uber pulls away and disappears down the street.

Only when the taillights vanish do I finally breathe out. My chest is tight. My thoughts, tangled.

That hug... FUCK. It actually rattled me.

I glance down at my wrist to check the time and stop cold.

My watch! The ten million dollar wristwatch I was wearing just now...

Gone.

My gaze shoots down the road, but the car is long gone.

Instead of anger boiling up, a laugh bubbles out of me. Low at first, then spreading into a grin I can't shake.

I shake my head and slip my hands into my pockets then I smirk to myself.

Something tells me this girl's not just another dancer in my club.

No. She's going to be trouble.

And I fucking love trouble.

I turn toward the club, ready to head back in when Leo bursts through the doors, nearly colliding with me.

"Whoa," I mutter, caught off guard by the urgent look in his eyes. "What happened?"

Leo glances at me, holding his phone to his ear. He nods and says, "I'm with him now."

Then he hands the phone over to me.

I frown, glancing at the screen to see an ongoing call with Michele. I press the phone against my ear.

"Hey, Michele," I say, my brows knitting. "What's up?"

"Um... Val? I've got bad news."

(VALENTINO'S POV)

"Bad news?" I repeat, my pulse spiking almost instantly.

My hands tighten around the phone until my knuckles turn white. My heart started pounding against my ribs, each beat echoing in my skull.

"What happened?" I demand, my voice coming out sharper than I intended.

"The shipment... the one we were expecting tonight? It didn't make it." Michele's voice cracks. "It got intercepted just off the coast by U.S. Customs and Border Protection. It's in their hands now."

"What?!" I snapped. "How the fuck did this happen?!"

"I–I don't know, boss," Michele panics, his words tumbling out fast. "Maybe the Feds got tipped off or it was just bad timing. I-"

I don't hear the rest. My hands are trembling now, the phone shaking against my ear. I turn to Leo, searching his face.

The look on it only mirrored mine.

"Fuck! Fuck!! FUCK!!!" I scream at the top of my voice. A few passersby pause, staring at me as if I'd lost my damn mind.

My eyes sting, hot tears threatening to spill.

This shipment of drugs was worth a hundred million dollars. Every cent I funneled from my strip club, the night club, the casino, the restaurant, even the car rental-it was all riding on this.

This was my chance.

My shot to prove to my father that I wasn't just reckless and irresponsible Val. That I could build my own empire, run my own game. That I deserved a throne of my own.

And now? It's all gone.

"Shit," I mutter, biting my lower lip so hard that I drew blood. My hands dive into my hair, tangling through the auburn strands as my chest heaves.

"What are we gonna do now, Michele? This... this is massive. It's gonna hit everything, every business I've built. How do we fix this?"

"There's nothing we can do right now. Not yet at least," he replies, panic still evident in his tone. "The Feds are probably already onto us. Best thing we can do is lay low for now. We can figure out the next move later."

I exhale slowly, trying to calm my nerves. But the anger and anxiety keep twisting deep into my gut like a knife. My mind is racing a thousand miles an hour, but I can't afford to show weakness.

Not now.

"Okay," I nod. "Call the others and tell them to meet me at Il Palazzo del Peccato. Now."

"Right away, boss," Michele replies, and I hear the click as he ends the call.

I hand the phone back to Leo, who's been watching silently, tension etched across his face.

"This is... fucked," I mutter under my breath, running a hand across my forehead.

And just when I thought things couldn't get worse, my phone starts ringing in my pocket.

"Who the fuck is it now?" I mumble, digging my hands into my pocket.

The second I pull it out and look at the screen, the frown on my face disappears. The feeling in my chest is replaced with dread.

"Who is it?" Leo asks as he notices the sudden shift in my behavior.

I flip the phone toward him to show him caller ID flashing across the screen.

His brows perk up as his eyes widen. "Shit," he curses.

I sigh, staring at the phone screen as the word 'PADRE' glares back at me. I hesitate for a split second, my thumb hovering over the answer button until finally, I answered it.

As soon as I press the phone against my ear, my father's voice cuts through the static.

"Valentino," he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine, full of that cold authority I've spent my whole life both craving and fearing. "Explain to me how a shipment worth a hundred million dollars ends up in the hands of the Feds."

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears. Every instinct tells me to stay calm, to choose my words carefully. But fuck-it's hard to sound calm when everything you've built just took a bullet to the chest.

"Padre... I–I don't know how it happened. We were set up, I swear. Michele says it was intercepted just off the coast. It's almost as if they knew it was coming."

There's a pause. A long, bone-deep pause that makes my stomach knot.

"You don't 'swear,' Valentino," he says finally. "You don't get to fumble when we're talking about my business, my legacy. Do you understand me?"

"Y-Yes, Padre," I choke out. "I know. I-"

My father cuts me off before I can get the words out. "Ma sei proprio un idiota senza cervello, lo sai?" (You're really a brainless idiot, do you even realize it?)

"One hundred million dollars," he hisses through the phone. "Gesù Cristo! How does one lose money like that, Valentino?! Tell me-where were you when the shipment was seized?"

I panicked. "Padre, please listen to me. I sent my men to secure it. I-"

"No! You listen to me, cazzo!" He snapped so hard I almost flinched away from the phone.

"Why can't you seem to do anything right?! You were supposed to be there to receive that shipment but you were God knows where, doing what you know how to how to do best."

For a couple seconds, the line goes silent before he says:

"You're a disgrace, Valentino. A stain to my legacy. The Vipera name bleeds because of you."

Every single word hurt like a knife, stabbing deep into my chest.

"Padre..." my voice breaks. "I-"

"Don't you dare interrupt me when I'm speaking!" he lashes out. "Do you think this is some kind of game?! What are you going to do if they Feds start cracking down on all your operations?! What are you going to do if those American gangs-those cockroaches-smell weakness and start causing trouble?! Word gets around in this world of ours, you know that right?"

The tears sting my eyes, threatening to spill no matter how hard I try to blink them back. I turn away from Leo, not wanting him to see the look on my face.

The line goes silent for a few seconds. Just the faint static from the phone, and my own ragged breathing filling the space.

Then his voice cuts through again, low but sharp. "I sent you to America because you wanted to prove yourself. Because you wanted to show me that you're capable and responsible enough to handle things on your own. And to be honest, I had faith in you, Valentino. Yet you've somehow managed to let me down, time and time again. But this? This is the last straw."

"Padre, please..." I start, my voice shaking, desperate for him to hear me out. To give me a chance to explain. But he hangs up before I can even finish my sentence.

I stare at the phone, frozen, the weight of his words still burning in my chest.

Without thinking, I fling the phone onto the asphalt. It bounces, the screen cracking against the concrete.

My foot comes down hard, stomping on it over and over gain. Each stomp a mix of rage and frustration, until it's nothing but a broken mess under my shoe.

"Val!" Leo calls out before stepping in, placing a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

"Enough," he says calmly. "Come on, let's go inside."

I grit my teeth, still breathing hard, my blood boiling hot in my veins but Leo doesn't let go.

Instead, he guides me back toward the club, keeping me from doing any more damage.

As we step through the doors, the music, the lights, the heat in the club-it all feels distant.

The storm isn't over. Not by a long shot.

But right now... I let Leo keep me anchored.

For now.