The CEO'S Surrogate Stripper

Valentina Avery, the infamous Stripper Of Darknight Bar had nothing to lose in her life. Except for her part-time job and daytime studies, the world no longer mattered to her after losing her family and dignity in one night. Mystery falls into her life when she meets the mysterious, famous Ceo, Lorenzo King. Between the lines and barriers of their mysterious contract, Lorenzo became an unrestrained part of her life but a love of strippers and famous Ceo were never welcomed by society.

Chapters

Chapter 5

My jaw dropped when the name bounced inside my room. I heard about him a lot of dark, mysterious, cold but nothing like his father. Years back, there were rumours about him dating a model from showbiz. I never saw his picture and only heard from other strippers who died to serve him one day because that man had zero interest in other women. Even, I never heard that he ever attended our bar during my working years.

Heavy footsteps began to echo towards my room. I swallowed hard, preparing myself to answer carefully. One wrong word with him could drag me straight to hell. Julie left the door open for him. I felt his presence behind, powerful and intimidating. As soon as I turned around, a loud gasp of surprise passed through my lips.

It was him! The man who ignored me!

I swallowed heavily, mentally slapping myself twice because I had invited my own death here. Pretending cool on the surface, I asked to pull my eyes up to meet his cold eyes,

" How can I help you, Mr.King?"

He smiled maliciously, shaking his head slightly as if I cracked a joke. He leant against the door head, watching me intensely,

" I want something from you, Miss Avery."

My jaw clenched hard at his response. I could understand where he was heading to. Sticking firm to my pride, I blurted with rage,

" Mr.King, you must have already heard that I don't sell my body."

He chuckled more dangerously, raising one of his eyebrows playfully,

" Who said that I want your body, Valentina?"

My brows were crooked together, confusing,

" Then?"

He sighed heavily and began to approach me into the room. I stepped back subconsciously, making a perfect distance between us. His eyes held mine, mysterious, dark and it was hard to predict what was going behind his mind. His thin lips quirked upward, giving me a slow, handsome smile that left me bewitched in my place,

" I want to hire your bump, Valentina."

|| Valentina's POV ||

His words left me stunned, paralyzed for a few couple of moments. Honestly, it was the most weird proposal that I ever got in my lifetime. Most of them came to offer money for their bed services except him. There was something else behind his eyes, the power he carried whenever his presence surrounded me. This thing didn't happen before and I was sure that Mr.King had successfully managed to leave his best impression on me.

I gulped, scrutinizing tightly,

" What do you mean?"

He smirked, his eyes paying close attention on my thick eyelashes. He didn't sound like a playful man but at the same time, these words sounded odd to me.

Who wants to hire a bump seriously?

His words came out stern and firmly,

" I want you to become the surrogate mother for my child. In other words, you will get money and I will have my child."

Wordless, I stared into his eyes blankly to ensure that he didn't crack a joke with me here. In society, we, strippers are highly degraded by upper class families like them. But hearing something different from him really left me with a lot of questions.

"Why me? ", my question blurted out subconsciously, earning a silent glare from him. Well, I had every right to know that why did he want to hire me as a surrogate. There were plenty women out there to become his surrogate. Above all, bearing a child wasn't a easy process. I didn't even complete my college.

What would others think of me?

He smirked at me mysteriously, dragging his body a feet closer until we were few inches apart from each others,

" One thing, I would like to clear Ms.Avery that I don't like anyone questioning me. If you want to do it, just say yes."

I tugged on my lips nervously. Truthfully, I was in bad need of money now. The rent, college everything required a lot of money which wasn't in my captivity now. Although I was the infamous Stripper here, that didn't feed me off entirely. I still struggled to fulfill my daily basis. But the confusion and insecurities still lingered in my mind.

What would happen to my career?

Pinching on my palm lightly, I replied suturing,

" I..I need time.."

He nodded agreeing and left after plucking out a card from his pocket,

" Take it! You have 24 hours to consider, Miss Avery.If you still think yes, come to my office."'

Clutching his card into my fist, I watched him, heading outside in urgent steps. He didn't tell me why he chose me but the address 'Miss Avery' warmed my heart somewhere. The first time, someone showed me this much respect.

But why did he choose me?

_____________

Continue to next part

The velvet curtains backstage at the Vanderbilt Theater smelled like money—old money, the kind that clung to Manhattan's bones and refused to let go. I ran my fingers along the edge of my leather planner, checking off the final items on tonight's checklist. Every detail had to be perfect. This IPO celebration wasn't just another corporate event; it was the culmination of three years of eighty-hour weeks, strategic pivots I'd architected in the dead of night, and financial models I'd built from scratch while Jude slept soundly beside me, blissfully unaware of the empire I was constructing beneath his name. The partnership announcement with Burke Holdings alone represented eighteen months of delicate negotiations. I'd personally courted their executive team, demonstrating projections that made their CFO actually whistle through his teeth. The signed term sheet sat in a burgundy portfolio on the production table, my neat signature beside the embossed Burke Holdings seal. Two thousand investors were streaming in, their collective net worth probably exceeding several small nations' GDPs. I glanced at my watch—a vintage Cartier my mother had given me when I made VP at twenty-eight, back when I still worked under my own name. Fifteen minutes until showtime.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.2

Betrayal Shatters Engagement

9.2

The honeymoon brochures lay scattered across Theodore's mahogany desk like broken promises. Santorini sunsets, Parisian cafés, romantic gondola rides through Venice—all the dreams we'd planned for our wedding trip in four weeks. I picked up the Tuscany villa booking confirmation, my fingers trembling as I tried to organize the documents Theodore had asked me to sort through. That's when I saw it. Tucked beneath the travel insurance papers, a cream-colored document with the official seal of New York State. Marriage Certificate. My heart stopped as I read the names printed in elegant script: Theodore Alexander King and Paloma Isabella Hawkins. Date of marriage: fourteen days ago. The paper slipped from my numb fingers, floating to the Persian rug like a death sentence. Fourteen days ago, I had been planning our rehearsal dinner menu.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.0

Burning His Empire For My Sister

9.0

My sister died because my husband' s mistress needed the helicopter for her dog. I called him, begging him to send his medevac chopper. He promised it would be there in thirty minutes. It never came. As my sister' s heart monitor flatlined, I saw the reason on Instagram. His mistress, Brooklyn, was posing with the helicopter, thanking my husband, Jax, for saving her Pomeranian who ate some chocolate. When I confronted him, he chose her. He pushed me, and after the car crash that followed, he rescued her from the wreckage while leaving me bleeding in the back. At the hospital, he played the hero for the news, but the final blow came from my lawyer. Our five-year marriage was a fraud; the license was fake. So I disappeared. Now, two years later, I' m back. He built an empire on my back, and I' m here to burn it all to the ground.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.2

His Perfect Prescription, My Royal Betrayal

8.2

For three years, I was his "little bird," an amnesiac he rescued and cherished. He was Dawson Nash, a handsome tech billionaire, my savior, my anchor, my entire world. Then I overheard him talking to his therapist. "10,000 encounters, Dawson. You chose well. She's clean, naive, and pliable. A perfect prescription." I was just a tool, a "cure" to keep him pure for his true obsession: Arleen, his mother's best friend. Every gentle touch, every patient lesson, every whispered "I love you"-all a calculated lie. He called me disposable, a placeholder until he could have his goddess. He humiliated me, abandoned me in a storm, and left me for dead after a car accident. When I saved Arleen from drowning, he accused me of trying to kill her and had me locked in a chapel to "reflect." But as the super blue blood moon rose, I saw my chance. Not for revenge, but for escape. I threw myself into the ancient well on his family's estate, not to die, but to go home. Because I wasn't just a naive girl with amnesia. I was a princess from a lost kingdom, and the well was my gateway back.

Billionaire Modern Mystery

8.7

Married by mistake to the billionaire

8.7

He was the billionaire betrayed on his wedding day. Two broken vows. One ruthless deal. When Adrian Voss offers Talia Monroe a six-month marriage contract, it's supposed to fix their reputations not destroy their hearts. He's cold, calculated, and terrifyingly in control. She's impulsive, fiery, and impossible to tame. He says, "You'll marry me. You'll play the role. You'll obey." She shoots back, "You don't scare me." He leans closer, eyes like ice. "Good. Fear is useless. But obedience... that might save you." She signed for revenge. He planned for convenience. Neither expected obsession. In a marriage built on power, the real danger is falling in love.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.0

My Husband’s Mistress Destroyed My Life, So I Took Hers

8.0

The crystal chandelier above our penthouse living room cast fractured light across Trevor's face as he collapsed at my feet. His Armani suit—the charcoal one I'd always loved on him, back when love meant something other than a weapon—wrinkled as he pressed his forehead against my lap. The cashmere of my dress grew damp with his tears. "Please, Iris. Please." His voice cracked like expensive porcelain hitting marble. "I can't do this anymore. Five years. Five goddamn years of you looking through me like I'm a ghost." I kept my hands folded in my lap, fingers laced with the same precision I'd once used for port de bras. My wedding ring caught the light—fourteen carats of irony. "I know I don't deserve it," he continued, his shoulders shaking.

Billionaire Modern Romance

The CEO'S Surrogate Stripper

Chapter 5

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