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Prologue
PIPER
I step through the door to the clubhouse, my arms laden down with bags. I spot Hulk, the club’s VP, and Ace, the President, sitting by the bar. Ace smiles and asks, “You been shopping?” I don’t miss the way Hulk rolls his eyes in irritation when Anton follows me inside.
“This woman is a shopaholic,” Anton mutters.
“You letting the Mafia buy your shit?” Hulk snaps, looking back over his shoulder at me.
“I can treat my woman to whatever she likes,” says Anton with a smirk. “Maybe you should have done this, then she wouldn’t have gotten tired of your arse.”
Hulk growls. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Ace leans into Hulk and mutters words that I don’t quite catch, but I assume he’s telling him to calm the fuck down.
I sigh, taking the opportunity to quietly tell Anton, “Let’s go to my room.” Then, I breeze past Hulk, ignoring him. I’m becoming an expert at handling his tantrums.
“You need to stop ignoring me, Piper,” growls Hulk angrily. He waits a beat before adding, “Or I’ll tell him everything.” I stop in my tracks and spin to face him. Our eyes lock, and we’re in a silent standoff.
“Piper,” Anton says, “what the hell’s he talking about?”
Chapter One
Sixmonthsearlier.. .
Piper
I slam the shot glass down on the shiny bar top and signal for the bartender to fill it up again. I can tell by his face he’s weighing up whether to serve me or turf me out. I arch a brow, daring him, and he reluctantly fills my glass with sambuca. “You should just leave the bottle here,” I slur and pick up the glass. The sticky liquid spills over my fingers as I drink it in one go.
“I think you should call it a night,” he suggests gently.
“I think that’s way above your paygrade,” I snap. “To stop me drinking, you’d need danger money.” He reluctantly tops up my glass again and then moves away. I watch him speak into his radio, and I scowl at him.Party pooper.
A girl dressed in next to nothing brushes past me as she reaches behind the bar and takes a bottle of vodka. “I’m taking this for the girls,” she says, waving it at the bartender. He nods, barely looking in her direction as he speaks quietly into his radio.
I throw a twenty on the bar top. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” I tell him. I stand and grip the bar to steady myself before following the girl with the vodka. We head backstage, but she doesn’t notice me until I’m in the dressing room with her.
She smiles. “Are you the new girl?” I shrug and return her smile. This seems to be the right answer because she unscrews the cap and hands me the bottle. “You can go first. Welcome to the team.”
A few minutes later, I’m introduced to some of the other dancers, and then I’m taken to another room bustling with half-naked women doing makeup and getting changed. “The new girl’s here,” shouts my vodka friend, and another woman rushes over, looking harassed. She grabs me by the shoulders and looks me up and down.
“There’s not much on you,” she mutters before reaching over to a nearby rail full of clothes. She retrieves a short, sparkly dress and holds it up in front of me. “Perfect.” Then she thrusts it into my chest. “Hurry, you’re on it three.”
“Three?” I repeat, my eyes wide.
“She means three minutes,” explains vodka girl. “Sandra, by they way,” she adds, holding out her hand, which I shake.
“Did you not hear me, new girl? Hurry,” snaps the other woman.
“That’s Paris. She’s the boss’s pet but thinks she’s actually the boss. It’s best to do what she says, though, because she holds the power to fire you,” whispers Sandra.
Another woman rushes over. “Christ, you’re wasted,” she comments, spinning me away from her and unfastening the zipper on the dress I’m currently wearing. “Paris needs you out there in one minute.” She tugs my dress down, and I step out of it. She turns me back to her. “What the hell are you wearing?” she hisses, eyeing my underwear. I frown, looking down at the cotton knickers and unmatched white bra. “Fuck me, Sandra, grab us something off the rack.”
Sandra grabs my boob. “C,” she announces, looking proud when I nod. She takes a black lace bra and thong and removes the store labels. The other woman begins removing my bra, and I try to cover my boobs as she laughs.
“A shy one? That’s a first.”
Once I’m tucked into the new underwear, I step into the sparkly dress just as Paris rushes back over. “Now, new girl. Get on stage.”
