The Billionaire's Deal

Richard's Point of View

I was bored. Bored to death. The club had a beautiful ambiance, but apart from that, nothing else was amusing—not the women dancing in front of me, nor the cheap wine I struggled to sip.  

"You enjoying yourself?" Maxwell asked, leaning closer.  

I shot him an annoyed look. "Do I look like I’m enjoying myself?" I spat, leaning back into the leather chair. The seat let out a sharp squeak under my weight, worsening my irritation. If Maxwell hadn’t stolen my keys and dragged me to this cheap strip club, I would have spent my night doing something a thousand times better.  

"C'mon, Richie Rich," Maxwell teased, his grin widening as if he enjoyed my discomfort. "You've been celibate for three years. Look around this room. There are plenty of women here—women who would happily help you forget about that—" He stopped himself, swallowing his words.  

Laura. He’d almost said the name I couldn’t stand hearing, I gave him a warning glance, and he raised his hands in surrender.  

Reluctantly, I glanced around the room as he suggested. It would take more than the women in this club to make me forget about Laura, I thought bitterly. But just as I was about to look away, my gaze snagged on someone in the corner of the room.  

A woman.  

She wasn’t dressed like the others, nor did she exude the same air of desperation. Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her simple black gown clung modestly to her figure. She stood near the manager, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She didn’t belong here.  

My heart stuttered.  

I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes as I studied her features. Something about her seemed familiar. Too familiar.  

"Who is that?" I muttered under my breath, nudging Maxwell.  

He didn’t respond—too enthralled by a stripper spinning gracefully around a pole. Typical.  

“She doesn’t look like she belongs here,” I murmured to myself. My chest tightened as I noticed her shifting uncomfortably under the harsh glare of the club’s lights. Then it hit me.  

She looked exactly like Laura.  

A cold chill ran down my spine.  

Before I could piece together my thoughts, the manager's voice boomed over the low hum of music, dragging my attention to the stage.  

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called, his voice dripping with sleaze. “I’ve got a special treat for you tonight. Meet the newest addition to our lineup.” He gestured dramatically toward the girl I couldn’t take my eyes off.  

“She may look inexperienced,” he continued with a grin, “but I assure you, she’s a pro. And for the right price, she’s open to... extra services.”  

I clenched my fists as the words sank in.  

“If any of you gentlemen are interested in spending the night with her,” the manager crooned, “you’ll have to bid for it. The starting price is fifty dollars.”  

The room erupted into murmurs, and my stomach churned. She froze like a deer caught in headlights, her wide eyes scanning the room as if seeking an escape.  

“Fifty dollars,” a voice called.  

“Seventy,” another chimed in.  

I watched her. The shock on her face, the way her lips trembled as she tried to protest but couldn’t find the words.  

"One hundred dollars," a slurred voice came from the side. I glanced at the bidder—a fat, old man who reeked of alcohol and greed.  

"One hundred twenty!" someone else shouted from the opposite end of the room.  

The bids came faster, voices overlapping, the crowd treating her like a shiny new toy. My gaze darted back to her. She stood rooted in place, her discomfort radiating from every movement, every shallow breath.  

Something inside me snapped.  

Possession, anger, maybe even desperation—I couldn’t let her fall into the hands of one of these men. She wasn’t Laura, but the resemblance was too haunting.  

"Ten thousand dollars!" My voice cut through the chaos, silencing the room.  

All eyes turned to me. But I didn’t care. My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at the girl who looked exactly like my ex-wife.  I couldn’t let any of these men have her—not like they had Laura.  

A wide smile spread across the manager's face. "Deal!" he said.  

Before he could leave the stage, a woman in high heels walked toward me, holding a keycard. "Your room, sir," she said in a hushed tone.  

I looked at the card in her hand, skeptical at first, before extending my hand to take it. As I did, I felt something else—a smaller card. I glanced at it and realized it had her phone number.  

"Call me!" she winked before walking away.  

As soon as she left, I heard Maxwell's voice. "Ten thousand dollars?!" he exclaimed, staring at me like I’d lost my mind. "That’s a ridiculous amount to pay for a stripper!"  

"I don’t care," I replied flatly, my eyes still glued to the girl as they guided her out of the room. She walked stiffly, her head slightly bowed, her hands trembling as she clasped them together.  

"Can’t you see it?" I asked, leaning closer to him, my voice barely above a whisper.  

"See what?" he muttered, still looking utterly disappointed.  

"The resemblance," I said, motioning subtly toward her as she walked. "Between her and Laura."  

Maxwell’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at me as though I was insane.  

"Oh, come on. Is that why you just dropped ten thousand dollars on a stripper?" He threw his hands in the air in frustration, his voice rising.  

"It’s not just a resemblance," I insisted. "It’s uncanny. She looks exactly like her."  

Maxwell let out a deep sigh, dragging his hand down his face as if trying to wipe away his frustration. "Richard, there is no resemblance. None. Nada. You need to let her go, man. This—" He gestured wildly toward the door where she’d disappeared. "This is insane."  

"Insane would’ve been letting one of those perverts win her," I snapped back, my heart boiling with jealousy.  

Maxwell’s jaw dropped. "So now what? You’re going to have sex with her, pretending she’s Laura? Is that it?"  

I took a deep breath, shaking my head. "No."  

"Then why the hell did you just waste ten thousand dollars?" he demanded, his voice rising again.  

A slow smile crept across my face, one I couldn’t quite suppress. "To keep every other sick bastard in this room away from her," I said, my voice fueled with a strange possession.  

Maxwell blinked at me, dumbfounded. "You’re unbelievable. You’re crazy," he muttered, sinking back into his seat.  

"I guess," I sighed, staring at the door the woman had just walked out of.  

I got to my feet, writing a check and handing it to Maxwell along with the keycard. "Here’s twenty thousand dollars. Give it to the manager. I want her fired, and I want everything he has on her."  

Maxwell gave me a judgmental look, but I didn’t care.  

"Tell the manager to name his price. I want her out of here. No one touches her," I emphasized.  

Maxwell shook his head in disbelief, muttering something about me losing my mind. Maybe I had.  

But as I walked away, all I could think was one thing 'I wanted her—to possess her, to claim her as my own, to make her what Laura could never be. Mine, only mine.