Stripper For The Mafia Brothers

(VALENTINO'S POV)

My life... is going great.

I'm relaxed, leaning back in my seat with a drink in my hand, watching my girls spinning on the poles, arching their backs, grinding, twerking, and letting their bodies tease the lust out of every man in the room.

One of the dancers takes off her bra, flashing her large breasts at all the horny men in the club. Another slides to the bottom of the pole and spread her legs while rolling her hips seductively. Another grips the pole, dropping to her knees and shaking her ass to the bass thumping through the speakers.

And the money? The money keeps raining down like confetti until the floors are covered in it.

Every single dime they throw at my girls, every crumpled dollar bill they tuck into the strap of their thongs and in between their boobs, eventually ends up in my pocket.

The strip club? Mine.

The girls? Mine.

The money? All mine.

Thing is, there's no one in Las Vegas who doesn't know the name "Valentino Vipera". My name opens doors, closes mouths, and makes people's blood run cold all at once. You hear it whispered in high-stakes poker rooms, shouted over bass-heavy music in clubs, and murmured in back alleys where deals get made and lives get sold. I built this empire from the ground up-bled for it, fought for it-until every corner of this goddamn city bent to me.

Now they call me the King of Sin City.

And they should. Because in Sin City, everyone's selling something-their body, their soul, or their loyalty. The trick is making sure they're selling it to me.

I swallow, sipping on my wine as my eyes linger on the dancers and their sweat-slicked bodies gyrating to the music, seductively biting their lips as they touch themselves.

What a beautiful sight.

To be honest, I'm entranced by the girls too. Every now and then, my cock twitches in my pants as I watch them do their thing.

Like I said, my life is going grea-

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" someone screams from the other side of the club. "I'M GONNA BREAK THOSE FUCKING HANDS IF YOU TRY ME!"

I sit up immediately, stretching my neck to see what's going on.

The music screeches to a stop. The strippers turn to each other, asking what's going on. Even the lustful men finally rip their eyes away from boobs and ass, everyone's attention now drawn to the commotion coming from across the club.

I stand up and start to walk toward the noise, weaving through the crowd. By the time I reach the source of the shouting, I hear the sound of glass shatter just as my eyes lock on one of my dancers as she smashes a bottle on a guy's head.

Everyone in the club gasps.

The guy staggers but recovers quickly and takes a swing at her. She dodges the first punch, ducks under the second then lands a punch across his face that sends him flying backwards.

The guy staggers back to his feet, blood dripping from his nose. He touches it, sees the red on his fingers, and his face twists with rage.

"YOU BITCH! YOU JUST BROKE MY FUCKING NOSE!" he screams, spit flying from his mouth.

The dancer doesn't even flinch. She claps her hands once, her chest heaving as she shouts back, "That's what you deserve trying to get handsy with me."

The whole club is frozen, waiting for whatever comes next.

The bastard growls and charges like a bull, grabbing her throat with both hands. That's when I move. I don't think. I just step in and slam my palms into his chest, shoving him so hard he goes flying to the ground again, coughing as he hits the floor.

"Hey, hey, hey. Stop," I say, one arm stretched out to hold the girl back when she tries to lunge at him again.

Her chest is rising and falling fast, her fists still balled like she wants to rip him apart, but she meets my eyes and nods reluctantly.

"Tell me what happened here?" I ask her, my voice calm but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

She points her finger at the idiot on the floor. "That bastard grabbed my boobs. I told him to stop, but he laughed and did it again. I warned him the second time and then he squeezed my ass instead, so..." she gestures to the broken glass still glittering on the floor, "...I broke the fucking bottle on his head."

The guy coughs, trying to push himself up. His face is a mess of blood and sweat, but he still has the balls to sneer. "You're already parading yourself half-naked, shaking your ass for strangers, and you get mad that I just wanted to feel you up? Please. You're a slut. Women like you don't get to have standards."

A hush falls over the room. I can feel every single set of eyes on me.

I chuckle low, shaking my head as I take a step toward him. The guy blinks, confusion flickering in his eyes just before my fist cracks across his jaw. His body hits the floor hard, teeth clacking together as blood sprays from his mouth.

The crowd gasps. The music is still off. It's dead silent except for the guy groaning at my feet.

I crouch next to him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt so he hears me clearly through the ringing in his skull. "Club rules. No touching the dancers without their consent. If you want a lap dance, you pay up. If she doesn't agree, there are plenty of other girls. But you? You're done here."

"Boss, what's going on here?"

I glance over my shoulder. Leo is standing there, his brows furrowed, arms folded.

I stand up, brushing off my hands, smirking at him. "It's nothing," I say casually, tapping him on the back like this is just another Friday night.

I signal to a couple of my bouncers with a jerk of my chin. They don't need more than that. They grab the bloody bastard off the floor and drag him toward the door, ignoring his groans and half-formed curses.

When I turn back, the whole club is still staring. All those wide eyes, waiting to see if the show's really over.

I raise my voice with a grin. "What are you all staring at? Turn the music back on!"

The DJ doesn't hesitate. The bass drops again, lights spin, and the crowd erupts like nothing happened. Drinks are lifted, girls get back on the poles, and the tension melts back into lust and money.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders, then look back at the dancer. She's still catching her breath, but she's calmer now. I sigh, softer this time. "Sorry about that."

She smiles at me, the corners of her lips tugging up as she shakes her head. "It's okay. Thanks for stepping in when you did."

I laugh, the sound rough and amused. "Can't have anyone trying to mess with my money makers."

My eyes wander, and I take her in properly for the first time. Long blonde hair with streaks of pink and purple, falling over her full, plump tits in waves. Curves that don't quit. Thick thighs that look even better up close. That crystal-studded micro-bikini clinging to her, barely covering her nipples, barely hiding the sweet little pussy beneath it.

I catch myself staring too long, licking my lips like I'm starving. Clearing my throat, I finally say, "Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"

Her brows lift. "You sure?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Least I could do after what just happened. I can call you an Uber if you like."

She gives me a smile, softer now, and nods. "Thanks. I'd love that. I'll just head back to the dressing room and get changed."

"Alright. Meet me at the entrance when you're done."

She nods again and starts walking away. I watch the sway of her ass, the way it bounces with each step, my tongue caught between my teeth.

"Goddamn," I mutter under my breath, adjusting myself as the crowd roars back to life around me.