Diane's POV "$40,000." The price makes my throat run dry, and goosebumps scatter across my skin. The humming bass of the club fades into nothing in the background. No way. There's no way a client would offer such an enormous amount for my services. I know I'm good; hell, I'm the best stripper this private club has to offer. But not once have I been tempted by this. There has to be a catch. I shuffle on my feet, trying not to look desperate even though I am. I have debts to pay. Rent due. Food to buy... I need the money. "What do I need to do? Just dance for this man for a few hours?" The other strippers beside me cast jealous glances at me and the manager as they pretend to focus on the finishing touches of their make-up. The chubby man shrugs, a conflicted expression crossing his face. "Not exactly." Right. There it is. The catch. "So... what exactly do I..." That's as far as I get before his voice cuts through. "You would need to give him a night of his life." His expression is blank, like we're talking about the weather. I freeze. Literally freeze. The world seems to spin, and I just stand there, my brain short-circuiting for a second. "Excuse me?" Like, have sex with the client? Why not just hire a call girl or something? But then again, I know the elite of the city want quality, and this club is the only place they can get it. Brittany, a snobbish blonde with her tits almost falling out of a gown with an incredibly low neckline, chips in, her eyes glinting with desperation. "I'll do it, Mr Rogers." She bats her lashes. For a second, I can't even bring myself to protest. I just stand there, still reeling from the first words I heard. He will pick her. I know Mr Rogers doesn't like someone who hesitates, and right now, that's exactly what I'm doing. But then... "I appreciate your comment, Brittany, but you have stage duty today. This is for Diane. The client has asked for the best, and you and I both know who that is." His words sound far away as my brain tries to piece everything together. My family, my life... and forty grand lying on the table in front of me. I'm sold. I tilt my chin up. "I'll do it." *** My gown rides high on my hips, and my heels click as I push open the door to the private room on the top floor of the building. Stepping inside the dim room, softly lit by the glow of the red lights overhead, I'm immediately hit with the scent of pine and something woodsy. "About time..." A deep, rough voice echoes from the corner of the room. I freeze for a second before I gather myself and shut the door behind me. The angel mask covering my face feels way heavier than it used to. Did I mention that clients almost always have a request if they want a private show? Yeah. This one wants anonymity. And honestly, I'm fine with that. The last thing I need is him seeing my face and vice versa. It's best to forget this night ever happened. "I apologize..." My voice is low and sultry as I stalk forward, each step confident and alluring, before I stop in front of him. He's leaning back in the armchair, his defined jawline sharp under the dim light, his piercing green eyes hidden behind a dark eagle mask that covers half his face. There's something about him... something dangerous. Something familiar. Something that sets me off. Snap out of it, Diane. I'm just being paranoid. Nothing more. He leans back, his gaze sharp as he looks me over. "Midnight angel... that's what they call you here, is that not?" His voice is rough in his throat, and I can feel his gaze piercing so deep, like he wants to see into my soul. A smile curls my lips, and I straddle him slowly, sitting so carefully that I only brush against his dick ever so lightly. "Do you like watching me?" He tenses under my touch, and his breathing becomes laboured. "Yes. I come to every single one of your shows. I need you, please..." His words drift off into something more pleading. Pathetic. I know how to reduce men to a mumbling mess, but this man is almost too easy. Pushing that thought aside, I dip my head low, my lips brushing over the nape of his neck. "You smell so good..." I drawl, my tongue darting out to lick a slow stripe along his neck. I'm rewarded with a low grunt as his fingers find my hips, gripping them tightly. "Fuck," he mutters breathlessly, his hands beginning to move my hips, slowly grinding me on the tenting erection in his pants. "Fuck... yes..." I'm not even going to lie. That feels good. Way too good. My hips buck, pushing back down on him in an effort to feel more while my panties dampen with evidence of my arousal. Shit. Maybe this won't be that bad. "Wait..." I blurt out, easing off his lap before I drop to my knees. His gaze follows my movements, and his harsh breathing fills the space between us. "You're so pretty. Look at you. On your knees, getting ready to take my dick into your warm mouth." His words drip with lust and desire. My fingers work fast on his belt buckle, my gaze fixed on him. "Yeah?" I finally unloop it and throw it somewhere with a clang. Then finally, my hands are wrapped around his throbbing length, already dripping precum. Fuck. He's big. He bucks up into my hold, eager for some kind of friction. "C'mon, Princess. Put it in your mouth," he urges. Just as my lips ghost over the tip of his dick, he leans forward, trying to get a good look at me, and that's when it happens. The mask around his face must have been tied loosely because it suddenly slips off. "Oh... sorry, I..." I quickly pick it up with my other hand, stretching it back to him with an apologetic tone. My gaze slides up to meet his grateful face, and I freeze, seeing his bare face for a second before he slips the mask back on. I know that face. I could never forget that face. My heart stutters, and my lips part in shock. Conrad Beaumont; son of a billionaire and heir to the family's business. But most importantly, this is my ex-boss. The one who unjustly fired me years ago, forcing me into this lifestyle. The man I swore to hate. And I have his dick in my hand.

Diane's POV "What?" He looks confused, his eyes wide behind the mask. "Why did you stop?" Because this isn't supposed to happen. But he doesn't know that. My lips open, but no words make it out. Don't say anything, Diane. Just shut up and do your job. My hate for him doesn't surpass my need for money. I force a smile. "No reason. I was just... mesmerised by your ethereal face." The lie rolls off my tongue smoothly. His face falls into one of relief, and he looks nervous, his fingers digging into the couch as I resume stroking him slowly. "Thank you." Son of a fucking bitch. Don't do it, Diane. Don't do it. The overwhelming urge to twist his dick until he's screaming and begging swells in my mind, and I'm tempted. Fuck, I want to tell him everything I never had the chance to. But instead, I wrap my lips around the head of his dick so lightly, watching him jerk forward, a hiss escaping his lips. "Fuck... Yes..." He groans, his fingers finding their way into my hair, pulling at strands as he holds me in place. "Just like that..." My cheeks hollow, and I force myself to take him deeper, my hand stroking the base of his cock while I swirl my tongue around the tip, the sweet but tangy taste of precum on my tongue. "Like that?" I hum around him, gagging for a second when he presses me deeper, his length brushing the back of my throat. I choke for a bit, trying to ignore the sting of tears in my eyes as my teeth graze the base of his dick. Fuck. And then it happens. I let my intrusive thoughts win. I bite down on his dick. He yelps and pulls away, his expression twisting into shock, his hand nursing his dick. "What the fuck?" Satisfaction blooms in my chest as I try to catch my breath, spit trailing down my jaw. "Oh my lord, I'm so sorry." I force a tone of mock pity and apology. "I was just..." "Don't. Just forget it..." He gives me a look like I'm crazy. Served him right too. "Do you want me to continue?" I ask, batting my lashes. He shakes his head. "No. Just... just get back on me and ride me," he orders. Biting back a retort, I trace lines on his lap, moving up to his crotch, a smile pulling at my face when I notice him tense. "Whatever you say..." I drawl. I grab the condom I came with and tear it open with my teeth, keeping eye contact with him while I roll it onto his length. He curses under his breath, watching as I straddle him, a finger pushing my panties aside as I position him at my entrance. Not pushing in. Just there. Just enough to feel and brace myself for what I'm about to do. I still despise him. This is just a chore. Slowly, I sink down on his length, my walls stretching to accommodate him while a moan rips out of my throat. Fuck, that feels so good. Too good. His fingers dig into my hips as he holds me tight, his breathing ragged. I lower myself slowly until I'm sitting on him, my pubes pressed to his lap. "Shit..." I curse under my breath. He swallows hard, a pained expression crossing his face before he leans his head back, breathing heavily. "You feel so... good..." I don't bother to say anything. Instead, I lift myself carefully until he's almost all the way out. Then I slam back down, my hips hitting his lap, and I swear my vision almost blacks out. He hisses, fingers holding me right as I set a pace. Long, slow strokes that leave us both trembling as his length continues to hit a sensitive spot in me, drawing embarrassing moans out of my throat while I try not to let my knees give out. Conrad's breathing is heavy, the sound harsh in the space as he starts to lift my hips with his large hands, bucking up into me. It's ironic. I'm the one in charge, but somewhere in between, he takes control, and I can do nothing but give in to the electrifying pleasure rolling through me. "Fuck... yes... You're a goddess." He groans, letting out tiny gasps of his own each time he slams up into me. "Yes, take it all. You look so pretty riding my cock." My walls clench around his hard length, and I lean forward, pressing my chest to his before kissing his neck, biting and sucking the skin there. "Harder... please..." He wastes no time snapping up harder, the sound of skin meeting skin creating a sinful symphony in the dim room. "Come on..." His balls slap against my sopping cunt, and I can feel my juices gushing out of my pussy. Fuck. Why does this feel better than I ever wanted it to? His length brushes my G-spot one more time, and that's the final undoing. I'm quaking around him, my pussy clenching as a mind-blowing orgasm crashes over me, stars exploding behind my eyes. "Fuck..." I groan, bucking faster, my hands on his chest to steady myself. He tries to keep up the pace for a second, but then he stills, a pleased groan leaving his lips before his dick twitches in me, filling up the condom. "Shit..." he groans, still thrusting lazily for a minute. I just lie there on his chest, basking in the aftermath of my orgasm, when I feel his hand tap my bare lap to ease me off. Struggling to keep myself upright, I get off him, my knees buckling as I try to make myself decent again. He sits up, tucking himself back in as he gives me a look of awe. "You're really good at what you do." He smiles at me. But I don't return it. What I need is the money so I can forget any of this ever happened. "I'm glad to know that you..." I start, but my words are cut off by the sound of a loud gunshot outside the room, making me yelp. What the fuck was that? Conrad scrambles off the chair, his face turning pale. "Fuck, get down." My eyes dart to the door in panic, and I'm just about to bolt out when it bursts open and uniformed men walk in, guns raised, looking between the two of us while commotion reigns in the club outside. Fuck. A raid. We're so fucked. A young detective looks between us, then raises his badge. "LAPD. You're under arrest."

Conrad's POV "I want my lawyer! Do you hear me? My. Fucking. Lawyer!" My voice bounces off the concrete walls of the holding cell, but the officer standing guard outside doesn't even flinch. He just sits there behind the desk, chewing his gum like I'm background noise, just another day for him. The fluorescent lights above flicker faintly, the tang of paper filling the air. Fuck, this is bad for me. The billionaire's son in a holding cell. My reputation is ruined enough as it is. "I said I want to make a damn call!" I slam my hand against the metal bars. "Sit your rich ass down, Mr Beaumont," the officer drawls without even looking up from his paperwork. "You'll get your call when we're ready." When they're ready? Is he out of his fucking mind? I let out a bitter laugh. "When you're ready? You've just arrested the son of Andrew Beaumont, and you think you can just sit there..." "Yeah, yeah," he interrupts. "You people always think your daddy's name can buy you out of anything. Unfortunately, we have a protocol here. I don't really care who you are. I'm trying to treat you with the utmost respect, but you're acting like a spoiled brat." I freeze mid-pace. The jab lands harder than I expect. My jaw clenches, and I force myself to breathe. Not here. Not now. Just pretend you didn't get put in your place by a middle-class prick who doesn't understand how much this cell is messing with me. I'm not supposed to be in this kind of mess. I came to that club for one night; to forget, to disappear, to not think about the stacks of documents in the office. This was my first time trying this. A few hours of distraction. And now I'm sitting in a fucking holding cell. The universe has a twisted sense of humor. I must have offended someone in my past life or some shit. The door to the main corridor bangs open, and a guard saunters in, mutters something to the officer, then nods toward the cell. "Got another one for you." I turn, annoyed. Now what? Suddenly, I freeze as my cell door creaks open. She stumbles in as the officer gives her a rough push, the faint jingle of her handcuffs cutting through the air. Her angel mask is gone and her perfect hair is messy. The stripper. "Hey!" I bark, stepping forward instinctively. "Don't shove her like that!" Why did he shove her that hard? Seriously? No respect for women either? She stumbles, catches herself on the rail, and glares at me like I'm the one who pushed her. "Don't," she snaps, her voice low and venomous when I try to touch her. "Don't talk to me. Don't come near me." Oh. I blink, confusion clouding my expression. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm just... are you okay?" She backs away, pressing herself against the far corner of the cell. The harsh lights illuminate her features, and I stare at her. She's really pretty, and very much familiar. Older, with sharper features, but still familiar. That's when it hits me. "Diane?" I gasp. Her eyes flick toward me for half a second before she scoffs and turns her head away. Holy shit. "Diane?" I say again, half hoping I'm wrong, half praying I'm not. No way. She doesn't answer, just folds her arms and glares at the wall. "You trying to summon me or something?" she finally mutters under her breath. "Unbelievable," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. "You were... You worked for me." "Years ago," she says flatly, turning to me with a glare. "Before you fired me." I take a step back, disbelief cutting across my features. She really is the one. She got into a scandal regarding my stocks at the office, and I fired her without listening to her pleas. I needed the perfect staff, not someone accused of random things in the company. And now? No way. I slept with an ex-employee. Fuck, what is wrong with me? "You... you knew I was the one and you still went ahead and slept with me. You knew what you were doing!" I hiss at her, my voice cracking. "Right. Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir." She rolls her eyes. I want to say something back, something biting, but before I can, the guard's voice cuts through the air, silencing us. "Beaumont. Lawyer's here." Finally. A man in an expensive suit appears behind the bars, flanked by two other attorneys carrying files. "Mr. Beaumont," he greets me curtly, then glances at Diane with a flicker of curiosity, probably wondering who the woman is and why she's glaring at him. "We're working on your release. The police raided the club because of an anonymous tip. Something about a cartel meeting and a potential drug exchange. You were just... caught in the wrong place at the wrong time." Ironic. "Just great." "What were you even doing in a club like that? Your father..." "Don't even," I cut him off. "How does it look right now?" "Bad." "Fantastic," I mutter, rubbing my temples. "Just what I need on tonight's headlines." Diane scoffs softly from her corner. "Must be nice. Having a whole team of suits ready to clean up your mess." I turn my head, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?" "Nothing," she says, but her tone is laced with bitterness. "Just saying some people have luck, others have... consequences." I bite back a retort, watching as my lawyer turns back to the officer and starts negotiating my bail. The officer nods to his table at the other end, and they go off to discuss and sign papers while I pace, trying to wrap my head around all this. Within minutes, the officer comes back and unlocks the door with a sigh. "You're free to go, Mr. Beaumont." I don't move for a second. My gaze flicks to Diane, who's fidgeting with her nails and staring at the wall. "And her?" The officer snorts, shaking his head. "No bail. No lawyer. She stays until morning at least. Club's under federal investigation." "What? She didn't do anything. She works there." He shrugs. "Not my problem." I turn to my lawyer. "Get her out too." "Sir," the man starts carefully, "that may not be advisable..." "Do it," I snap. "Now." He hesitates, but one look at my face is enough. I'm not leaving her there. Not like that. An hour later, after signatures, fees, and more legal bullshit than I care to listen to, the officer finally comes back, keys in hand, and opens the cell again. "You're free to go," he says, looking at Diane like she's an inconvenience. She steps out of the cell, confusion flickering across her features when she sees me waiting outside. "Why... are you still here?" she asks warily, her expression tired. "Because I wasn't going to leave you behind," I say simply. A slow scoff escapes her. "Please, I didn't need your help. I didn't ask you for it." Stubborn. "You didn't have to," I say, starting toward the exit. "Come on. You're out now." She follows reluctantly, silent as I lead her out to where my car is waiting. "I'll drive you home." Her expression doesn't falter. "No." Understandable. I probably ruined her life years ago. Must be why she isn't keen on me. I turn to her, reaching into my coat pocket and pulling out a thick envelope. "Here. Take it." She looks at it like it's poison. "What's that supposed to be?" "Compensation. For the night. For the mess. For whatever the hell that was back there. You'll get your main money as promised." Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the fire blazing in them. "I don't want your money." I exhale, the muscle in my jaw twitching in irritation. "Fine. Then consider it something else." "What?" She crosses her arms. "A reminder that you owe me for helping you out tonight." Her brows knit. "I don't owe you shit." I press the envelope into her hand and smile. "You'll see soon enough. Take care of yourself, Miss Hall. I feel like we'll be seeing each other very soon." With a final mock bow, I get into my car and zoom off.