Stripper For The Mafia Brothers

(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.”