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.

(KRYSTAL'S POV)

As soon as the Uber starts moving, I reach into my bag and pull out the wristwatch.

A soft laugh slips past my lips.

"Men," I mutter under my breath. "So easy."

I turn around and look through the back window, checking if there's anyone running after the car.

But there's no one.

He probably hasn't even noticed yet.

I reach into my bag again, pulling out my phone. I make the call, and as soon as I bring the phone to my ear, I hear his calm, deep voice.

"Agent Vixen."

I straighten slightly, my eyes lifting to the rearview mirror again.

"How did it go?" he asks.

"The first step of the plan was a success, sir," I say, watching the club disappear through the back window.

A short silence follows.

"You got close to him?"

I glance down at the diamond wristwatch glittering in my palm, then my lips curve into a smirk.

"Better," I say. "I got his attention."

(VALENTINO'S POV)

I haven't been able to get Krystal out of my head.

It's been a whole day she hugged me outside my club and smiled in my face while robbing me blind.

And the worst part?

I'm not even mad.

I laugh every time I think about it.

I walk into The Palace of Sin with my men, Leo, Bruno, and Michele right behind me. The bass from the speakers thump as WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion blasts throughout the club.

Lights strobe across the room in bursts of neon green and hot pink. Dollar bills rain down onto the stage as half-naked women grind, arch, and twerk for a roomful of thirsty men who don't even know where to put their hands.

My eyes sweep the room, scanning every dancer as I pass, searching for blonde hair, blue eyes, thick thighs, and that dangerous little smile.

But there's no sign of Krystal anywhere.

It stings a little, but I have to face the fact that I probably won't see her ever again.

A watch like that could set a girl up for life. For all I know, she's already on a plane out of Vegas, sipping champagne in first class while laughing at the dumb mafia bastard she robbed.

I make my way upstairs to the V.I.P section where I can get the best view of the whole club.

My men settle in beside me, their eyes scanning the room as I lean back, taking it all in.

Bradley Knox, the manager I personally hired, makes his way over to us.

"Good evening, boss." He extends his hand. I shake it and he grips firmly.

He glances at Leo, Bruno, and Michele, nods with that easy confidence of his, and says, "Fellas."

Bruno daps him up immediately. "My guy."

Bradley leans slightly closer, lowers his voice like he's about to share a secret. "So what can I get you all to drink?"

"I'll have a vintage Barolo." I say.

"A glass of scotch will do." Leo says.

"Same as him." Michele adds.

"You got bourbon?" Bruno asks. "I'll take that."

Bradley spins on his heels and disappears into the haze of the club. Moments later, he returns with a tray carried by a thick, curvy beauty whose skin is a rich chocolate brown.

Her long braids fall past her waist, the green bikini barely containing the twin mountains of her tits that bounce with every step. I can't look away, almost as if I'm hypnotized.

She reaches the table, sets down the drinks, and our eyes meet. She bites her bottom lip just enough to make me swallow.

Bruno's gaze locks on her ass as she bends, muttering under his breath in Italian. "Signore, mio Dio..." (Lord have mercy.)

He whistles low when she straightens, walking past him.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Bruno says, standing up, "I believe I've found god."

"Make sure you tithe generously," Michele calls after him, laughing.

Bradley chuckles, shaking his head, then turns to me. "Anyone catching your eye, boss? I can send over whoever you like."

I sip my wine slowly, my eyes drifting over the other dancers, taking in the curves, the moves.

But then I freeze the moment my eyes land on her.

Well I'll be damned.

She's here. She actually came back.

I set the glass down, stand, and give Bradley a simple shake of my head. "Don't worry about it. I've got this."

And with that, I make my way toward her.

Tonight just got a whole lot more interesting.

(KRYSTAL'S POV)

The pole feels cold under my fingers, slick with the residue of sweat from the last set.

I dip low, grinding and twerking, rolling my hips like I'm trying to hypnotize every man in the club. Dollar bills rain down, falling against my skin, tucked into the straps of my thong and between my boobs, and I let the thrill of it pulse through me.

Then I hear it. That voice.

"Well, if it isn't Krystal with a K."

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. I turn slowly and see him standing right there.

Valentino.

He leans on the platform, looking at me with this intensity, as if he's undressing me with those green eyes.

A smile tugs at my lips.

"Oh, hi Val. Nice to see you again," I say, smoothing my hair over my shoulder as I step off the stage.

"Sure. It's nice to see you too," he replies, his gaze intense. "You know... I thought you would've skipped town and started a new life by now."

"Me?" I laugh softly, placing a hand on my chest. "Why?"

"I dunno..." Valentino says, leaning back slightly with a smug look on his face. "Maybe because you stole something that belongs to me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, playing dumb, letting a small teasing smirk curl at the corner of my lips.

He grins, deciding to play along. "The ten million dollar diamond wristwatch you stole off my hand a few days ago. Right in front of the club?"

"Oh... that," I say lightly, brushing a few strands of hair behind my ear. "Don't mind me. I've just got butter fingers-especially when it comes to shiny things." I tilt my head, giving him an innocent look. "I hope you're not mad at me."

Valentino leans closer. "I'm not mad. In fact... I know exactly what you're doing."

I arch an eyebrow. "Now do you?"

"You're trying to get my attention," he says slowly. "And I can't lie... you've succeeded."

We just stare at each other for a moment, the world narrowing down to the two of us.

His green eyes look deep into mine, as if trying to stare into my soul, then they wander briefly to my lips then back to meet my eyes again.

"I'd like a private dance," he finally says, his voice deep and smooth, loaded with something I could feel in my chest.

I smile. "With pleasure."

He holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him lead me away from the crowded floor, into the V.I.P section, into one of the private rooms.

The door clicks shut behind him after I enter, and the room feels like its own world.

Dim red lights wash over everything, the slow beat of R&B vibrating through the floor. A pole rose from the center of the room, and at the far end, a heart-shaped bed draped in dark red sheets called to a different kind of temptation.

Valentino sinks into a chair, leaning back, his eyes never leaving mine. "Dance."

I walk to the pole and wrap my fingers around it. Gripping it between my legs, I spin slowly before landing on my heels again.

I rolled my hips as I went low then I spread my legs wide, trailing my from between my breasts down to my stomach, then down to the thin fabric covering my pussy.

I watch him closely.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his eyes never leaving mine for a second.

I get to all fours and slowly crawl toward him, the heat of the room thick between us. When I reach him, I straddle his lap, rolling my hips against his crotch. His hands rest at his sides, tense, waiting, anticipating.

I feel the hardness of him pressing through his pants. I tease, grinding, riding the edge, watching his jaw tighten, his lips parting in a soft moan.

Finally, I slip off my bikini top, letting my breasts fall free.

I bring them up to his face, and a shiver runs through me the moment his warm breath hits my skin.

He cups my breasts with his hands, thumbs brushing over the nipples, one of which he sucks, flicking his tongue over the bud before moving to the other.

I moan softly, my hips still grinding against his erection. Then his hands grips my face, tilting my head toward his lips.

And then, he kisses me.

It's gentle at first, as if we're both testing each other. Then I lean in harder, kissing him fiercely. He slides his tongue into my mouth making me taste the lingering tang of wine.

I love the taste of him. It's sexy... intoxicating.

Our tongues clash in a battle for dominance as our lips smack against each other until we finally break apart, our chests heaving as we try to catch our breaths.

"I want to fuck you," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.

I give him a teasing smile. "Club rules. No fucking customers."

"I'm not a customer," he growls, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm your fucking boss."

"Doesn't mean you won't pay up. And to be honest... this job doesn't really pay that well,"

"Yet you're still here," he counters, his tone dark yet amused.

"Well, a girl's gotta do something to pay her bills," I reply, grinding harder against him.

He groans, his voice dangerously low. "Fine. You can keep the watch."

"Is that a deal?" I ask, sliding a hand into his pants, rubbing him slowly through the fabric, watching him shudder.

"Yes," he gasps softly. "It's a deal."