Chapter 004: The Stripper And Her Boss

CHAPTER FOUR: THE STRIPPER AND HER BOSS

ZOEY

———

I had no idea how long I’d been standing there, gaping at him like a fish out of water, mouth slightly open in pure shock—

Until Chuck’s voice yanked me back to earth.

“What? You just gonna stand there gawking?” Chuck’s dry voice cut in, sharp and irritating as ever.

Even through the haze of shock and embarrassment, I couldn’t help noticing how much better this man looked in broad daylight. Which was saying a lot, considering how fine he’d looked last night.

I blinked, quickly straightening my posture.

“M-my apologies, sir.” I managed, cheeks heating up like a toaster set on high.

Dear ground, feel free to open up and swallow me any time now.

“I’m Zoey Anderson. Production assistant. It’s nice to have you back.” From what I’d learned, after setting up this production house, he’d relocated to another country, leaving the company under the care of those he trusted.

Now, he was back.

“She’s my ex-wife,” Chuck added with a smug grin. He glanced sideways at Mr. Gallo, who was still staring at me, recognition slowly dawning in those intense eyes.

Mr. Gallo finally turned to Chuck, confusion tugging at his brow. “Ex-wife?”

I clenched my jaw. Of all the things Chuck could’ve introduced me as—former colleague, acquaintance, even ‘someone I used to know’, he had to go with ‘ex-wife’. This fool would just never miss an opportunity to humiliate me.

“Yep,” Chuck said, leaning back casually in his chair, still watching me like I was part of the entertainment. “The same one I told you about.”

Oh, fantastic. Now I had to wonder what version of me he’d been feeding this man.

Mr. Gallo turned his eyes back to me.

His eyes were this mix between sea-glass green and stormy blue, framed by thick lashes. His hair was dark, almost black, and tousled like it was styled to look effortless. And that suit? Sharp enough to cut glass.

His voice came, smooth and cool as last night. “You weren’t at the meeting this morning. May I ask why?”

I swallowed hard, quickly looking down at my feet.

“My apologies, sir. I got caught in traffic.”

“Caught in traffic?” Chuck scoffed. “Classic excuse. Very original.”

Oh God, someone hold me! Or hold him down, so I don’t hurl this job out the window and claw that smug grin off his face.

“That’s alright, Miss Anderson,” Mr. Gallo said, his eyes already back on the files on his desk. “You can return to work now.”

And just like that, my stomach sank.

What? Was I seriously expecting something more? Maybe a look? A flicker of emotion or recognition?

Jesus, get a grip, Zoey!

I turned on my heel and walked out, my face calm but my brain spiraling.

The rest of the day blurred by like static. I couldn’t focus. My thoughts were stuck on last night. On him.

On the way his tongue had pressed to my heat, pleasuring in a way I’d never felt before. The way he kissed me like I was a craving he’d been dying to consume. And how he had thrusted into me as though I were the only thing in the world that could satisfy him.

I kept trying to snap myself back to earth, but the heavens had clocked out on my behalf.

Why, out of all the men in this universe, did it have to be my boss who turned out to be my one-night stand while I was disguised as a stripper?

“Oh, God.” I groaned into my hands at my desk, muffling a half-scream.

The two colleagues sitting beside me glanced over, concern etched on their faces. Then they looked at each other.

Yup. They definitely thought I was losing it. I honestly wouldn’t blame them for that.

As soon as work hours were over, I packed up my things and bolted out of the studio faster than you could say “Jack.”

I hopped into a cab headed for Laurel Canyon, where Camille had already called me from my new apartment. She was helping the movers settle my stuff in (bless her), and I was meant to be there too.

But fate, and two idiot truck drivers in a shouting match, had other plans. I ended up stuck in traffic for nearly an hour because neither of them wanted to back down and just take the turn.

By the time I arrived, the sun was already dipping behind the hills. The moving truck was just pulling away as I stepped out of the cab. Camille stood by the door.

“You sly thing.” She said, dusting invisible flecks from her palms as we stepped into the apartment. “You totally delayed on purpose so I’d do the heavy lifting, didn’t you?”

“Got caught in traffic,” I said with a sigh, letting my gaze sweep across the space.

Even with boxes scattered everywhere and not a single thing in place, I could already picture how homey I’d set up this cozy, two-storey mid-century apartment.

And thank God I never let Chuck’s name anywhere near this lease. I’d already lost the mansion. The cars. Everything. Because stupidly, I let him buy it all in his name.

Love really does turn you into a certified clown.

“I’ve got a night shift at the hospital, babes,” Camille said, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “Gotta run.”

“You work too hard,” I told her, catching her hand before she left. “You should take a break before you burn out.”

“And who’s gonna pay my rent while I’m busy relaxing?” She smiled, squeezing my hand. “I’ll be fine, Zoey. I’ll stop by in the morning. Take care of you, okay?”

And just like that, she was out the door again.

I exhaled, staring at the now-quiet apartment.

Great. No one to scream with about my late-night stripper-disguised-sexcapade with the man who turned out to be my boss.

I couldn’t wait for Camille to come back so I could spill everything.

A small ache tugged at my chest as I thought of her. Ever since her divorce from her deadbeat husband last year, she’d been burying herself in work. It scared me sometimes.

Camille always acted like she had it all under control, but I knew better. She was good at hiding her pain like a pro. I just hoped she’d slow down before life caught up to her in the worst way.

Dragging my feet across the tiled floor, I headed to the bathroom and took a quick, much-needed shower.

Once I was done, I changed into a comfy pair of loungewear, poured myself a generous glass of wine in a champagne flute, and made my way to the window.

Pulling back the curtains, I gazed out over Laurel Canyon. At the calm night, bathed in soft streetlights and cricketsong. It felt peaceful. Real. Way more real than that plastic gated estate I used to live in with Chuck back in Bel Air.

I took another sip and—

Wait.

My eyes caught movement across the way, in the warm glow apartment directly facing mine. A man stood inside, his back to the window, stripping off his shirt.

My heart stopped. So did my brain.

Zoey. Look away. Now!

But did I? Of course not.

“Oh my God…” I whispered under my breath as his shirt dropped, revealing a sculpted back and muscles that looked like they'd been carved by some vengeful Greek god. A bold dragon tattoo curled along his spine.

What the hell? Was this man part of the mafia? A cartel? A walking sex crime?

And why did his tattoo look somewhat familiar?

I bit my lip as I watched him, mesmerized. He unhooked his belt, his hands moving with sinful precision.

Time to look away, Zoey. Show’s over.

Only… I still wasn’t looking away.

And then… he turned.

Our eyes met through the glass.

My breath snagged in my throat as the wine glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. My mouth dropped open.

Christian Gallo?! As in, our Studio Head? And he was my neighbor?

No fucking way!

I panicked, yanked the curtains shut, and dove for cover beneath the window even though the damage was already done. That man had already seen me!

“Fuuuck!” I groaned into my hands, my fingers tearing through my hair. I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

I deserved an award. Best in self-humiliation: Zoey freaking Anderson.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, mentally beating myself with a flip-flop, until the doorbell rang. Sharp and sudden.

My phone buzzed at the same time. With shaky fingers, I checked the notification. It was a text message from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Get the door. We need to talk. — Christian Gallo.

I stared wide-eyed at the message, my whole world pausing.

Jesus Christ, I could pass out right now.