My Forbidden Desires: The Billionaire's Secret Affairs.

Bodies bump in time to the music, grinding against each other with a wildness that reeked of youthful recklessness and wrong decisions. These are my nights now.

With sweat dripping down the bodice of my low cut skin tight dress, I dance, belting out lyrics to the song booming from the speakers. Strobe lights flash around, illuminating the packed room, the strippers moving fluidly against the poles. A blonde with a heavy rack bends low, eliciting a wild cheer from men who throw dollar bills at her feet, hands thrusting into their pants to jerk off unashamedly. These are my nights now.

Sponsored by a pair of charming green eyes and a drunken night I would regret for the rest of my life.

F*cking Matthew.

Someone comes up behind me. The smell of alcohol teases my nose. "Hey, Red! Wanna go grab some drinks!?"

Irritation pushes into my throat. Turning, I shout above the music as well. "I'm good! And it's June!"

"Okay, June. You look like you could use a drink!"

"I said I'm good!"

"Nah. You been turning down men since you got here. Don't swing that way? I could make you!" A slippery smile stretches his lips to the side, his eyes glazed over from alcohol and something dark. I get the first trickle of alarm. Due to my need to have space tonight, I'd moved to a far corner. It is dark and if I screamed, it would be lost to the music.

When I take a step back, he circles my arm. My stomach clamps. "Let go!"

"Pretty little thing. I'll show you a good time." His grip tightens and he starts to pull me further into the dark. I realize he's heading for the stairwell at the back of the building. I scream with everything I am, raking my nails down his arm. His muscles tense with pain.

"F*cking bitch!"

He swings, but that gives me ample time to dislodge his hold. I evade his attack and knee him in the groin. He roars and when next he strikes, he catches my hair, wounding my locks around a heavy fist. Pinpricks of pain dance around my scalp.

"Stop!" I cry, stumbling along with him up the stairs.

"Was gonna take it easy, but now you've pissed me off," he slurs.

Ice slinks down my spine and my arms flail, trying to grip onto the rails long enough to throw him off balance. My life is officially a horror movie. "Stop! Please!"

An ugly chuckle.

The thin strap of my purse catches my eye and adrenaline pumps through me. When I grow lax in his hold, his grip loosens on instinct. And it's enough time for me to twist in his grasp. Clutching my purse, I wound the strap around his throat and pull tight with a cry.

Trembles wrack through his heavy body and he roars, scouring blunt nails down my arms but I don't let go. When his chokes subside, I let his body drop down. Silence settles in the air.

I peer down at his blotchy face. Horror dawns slowly. Have I...

A long grunt tears out of his chest.

Mierda.

I lurch back, stumbling up the stairs.

His chest swells as he drags in a breath. "You b*tch!"

I don't break my stride. Once I get to the landing, I hear footsteps pounding after me. Shit, shit, shit. A labyrinth of hallways spread out around me, all of them empty. I scramble up another flight of stairs, coming into another section of the club. I spin around slowly. What is this place...?

Spirals of glass chandeliers wink down the enormous hall, expensive oil paintings and marble statues dispersed around the lavish space. Throwing a glance behind, I hurry through the gleaming hall, throwing doors open in search of any human life. They're either locked or empty. A chill spreads through me.

Turning into a long lobby, my heart soars when I hear a deep voice coming from behind the door at the end of the gallery.

Without any time to spare, I hurry toward it, pushing the door open with every intention to ask for help. But then I pause.

As a girl, I'd believed in magic. Wonder.

As a woman, I believed that busting my ass behind a counter equalled having food put on the table. In a world that callously strips the wonder out of people, there are only a handful of occasions that revitalizes that hope, leading one to believe that, perhaps, there is still magic in the world. Because the man before me is just that.

Unbelievable.

Thick brows slash across steel grey eyes, a pair of lush lips offsetting the strong slash of cheekbones on an angular face. The stranger's hair is a midnight black, with locks teasing down his tan forehead. But that's just one side of his face. The other is marred with gruesome cuts, a few whitened and lacerated by what I assume has been a lengthy span of time.

He wears a suit. Armani.

The expensive material stretching across a broad chest tells me all I need to know. He has never known a night of hunger.

Has never held down three jobs trying to scrape up money for an abusive ex.

I start, "There's--

The astonishment I'd felt evaporates when I see the expression in his eyes. They're cold, angry.

And he's on the phone. He speaks to the person on the other line in a voice that is velvety and sinfully deep, a voice made to command. The thought has my breath catching, but I'm brought back to the present when he says, "She's here."

I blink. Who?

"Um, hello," I start. "I know it's not really any of your business but there's a man--a psycho--who's after me and I was just wondering if I could borrow your phone." At his unmoving stare, I can't help the trickle of nerves that slides through me. An anxious chuckle, followed by me riffling through my bag to hold up my phone awkwardly. "Battery's dead. Landlord cut off the power throughout last night. It...was a unanimous decision. It lowers the rent, you see."

He says nothing, waiting.

I fight the urge to shuffle on my feet. "I promise it'll be quick, you won't even know--I mean you'll know but it..." At his silence, my irritation wells. "Are you deaf or something? On the spectrum, maybe? You know what--forget it. F*ck magic," I mutter.

"Is this some twisted idea of foreplay?"

My eyes snap to him. "What?"

"I'm not paying you to be a mental case."

My world slows. Paying...?

"Yes."

I wasn't aware I'd said that out loud. "Wait, what do you mean?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. "I assume you were briefed by the staff?"

"I... Yes." My head bobs up and down in a quick nod. Shutting the door behind me, I walk deeper into the dimly lit room, stilling when I see a long pole. Looking back to the huge man, I ask, "So, just to, er, have your consent, what do you need me to do?" What the hell am I being paid for?

In that same emotionless tone, he says, "Strip, and get on the pole."

At length, I bite down on my bottom lip, nodding. "Um, I always take these measures with my clients to make sure their price range tallies with the staff's, but how much are we talking again?" I'm really about to do this?

"Twenty grand an hour. Make it worthwhile."

A wave of shock washes through me, causing me to rock on my feet. Twenty...?

That could pay off Mathew for good, and still leave some change to start the restaurant I've always dreamed of.

I take another look at the broad man. He'd reclined against the sofa, legs spread out in a way that radiated dominance. When an irritated brow lifts, I make my decision. Slowly, I hook my fingers in the straps of my dress, and think, I'm about to give this man the show of his life...