Promiscuous Lies : A Single Mom Mafia Billionaire Grumpy Boss (Vengeful Lies Book 2)
Promiscuous Lies : Chapter 1

I didn’t plan to work here; it wasn’t exactly on my career path. I didn’t wake up one day and say, today is the day I will become a stripper.

But here I am, two months in, working as a fucking stripper. If my parents were alive, I’m sure they would be really fucking proud.

Not.

But that’s what happens when you have bills and a body you can use to pay those bills.

A fucking stripper.

Yep, that’s what I grumble in my head every night when I have to pay the babysitter to watch my son so I can shake my ass for men who are more than likely cheating on their wives.

Fuckfaces.

“Posie, you’re late,” Paula says. I roll my eyes because I’m always late. It’s the one constant about me. She should be used to it by now, but I make up for it when I bring in the money. I only work here twice a week, sometimes only once. And I make enough on those nights to pay my bills and put food on the table. At the moment, that’s what I’m happy with; it’s all I need. Once my son starts school, it will be a different scenario, but right now, I want to give him all of me like my own mother did for me when I was a kid. So I work one to two nights here instead of getting a full-time job because it pays the same.

“I’m here,” I reply, throwing my things on the counter and pulling out my makeup bag. “You know I can get ready quickly.” I slip off my dress, revealing hot-pink lingerie.

Paula is more adamant about my tardiness tonight as she stands behind me while I touch up my hair and makeup. “I told you I needed you to be on time tonight. The boss doesn’t usually come in, and you still haven’t met him.” She throws her hands up in the air. “You know he likes to meet everyone.”

So I’ve been told.

And I still don’t care.

I don’t work as much as the other girls do, and ass-kissing isn’t exactly my thing.

“Is he still here?” I ask, in between applying my soft-pink lipstick. I don’t care if he is, but I’m pretending to be at least a little bit interested.

“He’ll be leaving soon,” she says, side-eyeing me.

“Okay, next time, then.”

She sighs and walks away, shaking her head. Paula and I have an interesting relationship. She gave me a job when I desperately needed it, and I work my ass off to bring in good money and tips. She won’t admit it, but I know she likes me.

“You really piss her off,” Samantha, one of the other dancers, says next to me. I can’t help but smile, not even attempting to deny it.

“Posie, you better be ready because you’re up in ten,” Paula calls out. It irritates her that I’m always ready and presentable for my sets despite being late.

I throw a barely-there cover-up over my lingerie and smirk as Samantha waits for her turn to dance. “Have fun,” she calls out as I wave her off and open the door to wander the main floor. The lights are dimmed to focus everyone’s attention on the current girl dancing on the stage. Seats circle the stage, with private booths scattered throughout the main room. In the center is a bar, and one of the other girls stands there, waiting to take her customers’ drinks out.

I admire the woman on stage, but I know all eyes will be drawn to Samantha when she comes out. She earns the most tips. I’m second to her, and she fucking works her ass off for it. She’s an amazing dancer who is studying it as a profession, but like all of us here, she struggles to pay her bills, let alone pay for dance lessons. Working here fixes that.

I skirt along the edges of the room, eyeing the night’s patrons. I smile as men’s gazes roam what is usually off-limits, although, for the right price, they can touch. I rarely let that happen. Men are easy. They want what they can’t have. And they’re willing to pay for it.

When I overheard two women discussing what strippers could potentially earn, I looked into clubs in Manhattan. Two weeks later, I met Paula by chance at the hospital. My son was running a fever, and her husband was sick that night as well. Although I usually keep to myself, we were in the same room, and she mentioned her workplace. Pearl is an exclusive, invite-only gentlemen’s club, which means the clientele has plenty of money to spare.

Most importantly, this one has the best reputation for keeping the girls safe. And they do. I get walked to my car every night. And if I feel unsafe, I even have the option of having security drive me home. So if I have to dance my ass off for money, I want to do it somewhere extra safe.

As I walk past the side of the stage where a group of men are watching the main dancer, I caress the men’s shoulders. Some look my way, and I offer them a small wave.

“Anything I can get you, fellas?” I ask, standing to the side. One in particular stares at me with lust in his eyes while the others rattle off drink orders. I smile and head to the bar, passing their orders to the bartender.

“Looking good, Posie,” Mike, the bartender, says. He’s well-groomed, with light brown hair tucked behind his ears. He has a long earring dangling from one ear, making him look edgy in a pretty-boy way. I wave him off with a flattered laugh. He always says that to me, and at first, it made me uncomfortable, but now I know he’s not hitting on me; he’s just playing. Now we enjoy bitching about the men together and admiring his failed dating app attempts. But, hey, at least he’s trying.

“Thanks, Pookie.” I wink at him as I lean over the counter. “Been busy this week?”

He nods as he starts making the drinks. “Boss has been in all week, so everyone’s been on edge. One of the girls stumbled down two steps when she saw him across the room because she was so nervous,” he tells me with a sly smile. But then he looks back out over my shoulder toward the floor. “He’s here right now; just a heads-up.” I make no move to turn around. I don’t care about the boss. I come to earn money and go home. As long as I have a job and am not doing anything wrong, I don’t see the problem.

“Good to know.” I place the drinks on the tray and walk them over. Leaning down, I place one in front of the man who hasn’t taken his eyes off the dancer, and the other two, I make sure to show my cleavage when I bend down to hand them their drinks.

And like usual, their eyes track to my tits.

“Is that all, boys?”

A cheer erupts, and they look to the stage as Samantha struts out.

Two of the men hand over a nice tip, only one of them taking their eyes off Samantha. I pocket the cash with a smile and go back to the bar with the empty tray.

“How’s the kid?” Mike asks.

“Good. Didn’t want to sleep tonight, though,” I say, rubbing my temples. That’s why I was so late tonight.

Mike laughs and shakes his head before cutting himself off quickly as a customer approaches the bar.

I eye the man because I haven’t seen him before, and he certainly looks like he has more than enough money to tip handsomely. He’s dressed in a suit, with light brown hair, blue ocean eyes, and a watch that probably costs more than everything I own combined.

Another cheer erupts, and I turn to watch Samantha basically backflip in her heels on stage and can’t help but smile. Gosh, she’s good. I mean, I can move my hips and climb a pole, but what some of these women can do is mind-blowing.

Not a chance in hell that I am trying to do that stuff unless I want to break my neck.

It’s then that I feel suffocated. When I look over my shoulder, I understand why. The man in the nice suit is standing in my space. No, he’s consuming all of it as if entitled to do so. It’s so unnerving that I step back while faking a smile.

“Hello,” he says, and his voice is sweet as honey but with a lethal edge that raises the hair on my arms. It’s a confusing mix, considering how pretty he is. He doesn’t look any older than me—in his mid-twenties—but there’s a cold calculation in his gaze that ages his presence.

“Hi, handsome. What can I get you?” I push my breasts out, and he notices. Not once has he smiled, and even as I stand here smiling at him, he doesn’t reciprocate it. Instead, he looks… disgusted. “Nothing, then?” I ask, raising a brow flirtatiously. He remains silent, simply studying me.

“Is this your first time at a gentlemen’s club, sugar? Don’t worry; it doesn’t cost you anything to talk to me.” A lie, of course. I make any man who occupies my time pay for it. I go to step past him and tap his shoulder, but his hand snatches my wrist before I can touch him.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he says. I try to pull my wrist out of his grip, but his hold won’t budge. It’s only when he finally releases me a few moments later that I’m able to regain my composure.

“We don’t need names, sugar. Do you want a dance?” I ask, batting my thick eyelashes.

“Is this how you are with all the clients?” he questions. I flick my long blonde hair over my shoulder and smile at him, even when I would much rather tell him to go fuck himself.

“How would you like me to be?” I ask with a sultry smile. I glance past him to replace Mike staring at me, eyes wide, mouthing “no” to me. Confused, I look back at the stranger. Sure, he’s dressed in a nice suit, wearing an expensive watch. Hell, even his shiny shoes scream wealth, but he’s just a pretty boy, and all boys go weak at the knees for a little bit of attention.

“I’d like you to be more…” He trails off as he puckers his lips, trying to think of the right word.

“Mr. Taylor.” Paula hurries over and stands next to him, her gaze flashing worriedly between us. “I see you’ve met Posie Quinn, one of our best. I know you requested Samantha, but she hurt her ankle on stage just now. I can guarantee Posie will be just as amazing.” I’m so confused at first, then his gaze rakes down my body before he nods, as if barely approving, and walks off. When he does, I turn to Paula.

“Okay, he seems like a total ass. Did Samantha seriously hurt her ankle?” Must’ve been the flip.

Paula gasps, and before she can speak, the man interrupts me from behind. “Yes, a total fucking ass who is about to pay you a lot of money.”

Shit. I really should have checked he was gone before I said that out loud. Turning, I replace him already walking off. Paula pulls me by the arm and drags me backstage.

“Do you know who you just insulted, Posie? Please check yourself before entering that room, because it’s full of powerful men. Clients you haven’t entertained before.”

My eyebrows dip. “Who is that, the fucking president or something?”

“No. Worse. He’s your boss.”