The Billionaire's Stripper Dirty Secret

Adrian's Pov My day started as usual: board meetings, endless calls, and a lingering thought of a woman I couldn't shake. Three weeks had passed since that night, the night I lost control. The night I couldn't forget no matter how much I tried. No amount of work dulled it. And Victoria's seduction hadn't even worked. I hated myself for letting a stripper get under my skin. I was mid-way through reviewing an acquisition contract when the double doors to my office swung open without a knock. Only one person in the entire world could get away with it. "Adrian." My grandmother's voice sounded like doom. "You look like hell." I didn't glance up. "And good morning to you too." I set down my pen like I was preparing for war and finally looked up. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she made her way to the chair opposite my desk. She wore a sharp navy suit, carried a matching purse that could knock a man unconscious, and wielded her authority like a weapon Her lips curved in disapproval. "You haven't called once since I came back from Italy. Not even a text. I could've died of loneliness and you'd be none the wiser." "I didn't know you were back," I muttered. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Liar. You just didn't want to hear me talk about marriage again." I groaned. "What was that? Speak louder. I'm old, not deaf." "I said I don't have time for that," I repeated, louder. "I'm running an entire company now, in case you've forgotten. She smacked my arm with the purse earning a frown from me. "You're thirty-five." "Thirty-four," I corrected. "Don't interrupt me." Her eyes narrowed. "There's no difference. Do you think our family name will live forever without an heir?" Here we go. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my temple. "Not again?" "Yes, I will keep pestering you until you do what needs to be done." "I'm busy expanding our business." "The business will die with you," she snapped. "Or would you rather see your unserious brother inherit everything and burn it to the ground?" I clenched my jaw. "Chris isn't-" "Enough!" She banged her purse on my desk. "I give you three months to find an eligible woman to be your bride." I stared at the purse like it was a loaded gun. "And if I don't." "Then I'll start planning a wedding without your input." She said coldly. She retrieved her purse and smiled, "Three months. No more, no less." She patted my cheek like I was five. "You'll thank me someday, my dear." And with that, she swept out of my office like a villain in heels, leaving behind a faint scent of lavender. I slumped back in my chair and muttered to myself. "Shit." --- The meeting dragged on longer than it should, filled with meaningless pleasantries and roundabout discussions. I played along, responding when necessary, nodding when expected, but I was already tired before they even got to the actual point of the conversation. By the time the meeting was over, my patience had run thin. Drake drove me home, navigating the city streets with quiet efficiency. When he pulled up to my penthouse, the staff stood at the entrance already prepared for my arrival. I pressed a thumb against my temple. "We are home," Drake's worried voice cut through my thoughts. I should have felt relieved but I was restless. "Take me to club 99." "Sir?" He spluttered, shocked. "You heard me." I said flatly. He cleared his throat and nodded, reversing back into the street. I peeled off my jacket, tossing it beside me before undoing my cuffs. My muscles ached, my body tight with exhaustion. I should be resting but there was something exciting about seeing her again. Club 99 pulsed with energy. Neon lights decorated the street, music thumped through the walls, and the air smelled like smoke and beer. It wasn't filled up like that night. Probably because it was a Monday. She was nowhere in sight. I found Smith observing the stage in a corner, cigar between his teeth, grin already spreading when he saw me. "Well, well. Look who is here. To what do I owe the pleasure?" "Where is she?" I didn't bother with pleasantries. His grin faltered. "Straight to the point. I like that. I've got a dozen girls who'd kill for your attention. You have to be specific." "You know damn well who I'm talking about." I snapped. He laughed without mirth. "Angel," he said, savoring the name like milk. "The girl you broke in." My hands curled into fists at my sides. "Where is she?" He shrugged. "On break." My heart sank. "Till when?" "Hard to say. Something about a project. She's a final year student, you know." The words hit me like a blow. A student. I stared at him, searching for any sign of deceit. "College?" He grinned. "Don't look so mortified, Mr. Marks. Most of my girls are paying their way through school. You think they all dance for fun?" Something twisted in my gut. She wasn't just a dancer. She was... young. Too young for the things I had done to her. "Where?" My voice was tight, heart pounding against my chest like vengeance. He shrugged, blowing a smoke into the air. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you." I reached into my jacket, pulled out a thick wad of cash, and dropped it on the table. His eyes lit up. "For a phone number," I said. He smirked and quickly scribbled something on his napkin. He slid it towards me. "There you go. Her number. Worth every dime." I stared at the digits like they were a warning. Smith leaned back, puffing smoke toward the ceiling. "Didn't think the great Adrian Marks would lose his shit over one of my girls. She must've been terrific." I pocketed the napkin without a word. And as I walked out into the cold night, my mind was a storm of questions I had no answer to. One call. That's all it would take to hear her voice. To find her. So why did I feel like dialing that number would destroy me?