The Mafia Boss' Kept Woman

Vivienne's POV

It was never my intention to work as a stripper.

I know what you're thinking. Stripper? Yes. The full blown type. Lace undies, full cleavage, bunny outfits, the full package.

But I had no choice. My son Theo laid in the hospital bed fighting to stay alive. I needed funding. Not a thousand dollars funding. I'm talking huge funding. Eight hundred thousand dollars. And the only means of getting that amount of money within a short period of time was to become a stripper.

Yes, I had the client base thanks to my exquisite figure, but there's just one problem.

I was late to work... Again.

"Vivienne!" My boss, Mira Hughes, snapped behind me. "You better have a good explanation for this."

I adjusted my lace bunny outfit, making sure everything was in place before turning around to face her.

"Traffic was bad, Mira," I said, keeping my voice calm. "I got here as fast as I could."

Mira sneered, stepping close to me. "Traffic? That's your excuse for the third time this week? Listen to me, Vivienne. You are not special. I have ten girls outside ready to take your spot. Step out of line again and you are fired. Do you know what that means for your little boy?"

My heart squeezed tightly at the mention of Theo. I clenched my fists behind my back, keeping my face completely blank. She knew Theo was my weakness. She knew I would take any abuse just to keep paying his medical bills.

"I understand," I said quietly. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," Mira said, throwing a silver tray into my hands. "VIP Suite 4. Some rich drug syndicates are spending big money tonight, and they promised a hundred thousand dollar tip."

Hearing the tip, my eyes widened. "That much?"

Mira scoffed, "Yes, and knowing your situation, I'm sending you in. Go in, smile, keep their glasses full, and don't cause any trouble."

I nodded eagerly. "I won't let you down, Mira."

She sized me up before departing down the hallway. I squeezed the tray, turning on my heel as I walked towards the suite. Approaching the door, I calmed my nerves, taking deep breaths as I repeated the words. "Smile. Keep their glasses full. Don't cause any trouble."

Quick in and out. It should be easy as pie, right? Well, I was definitely proved wrong. The strong scent of cigarettes hit my nose as I opened the door. The scene before me sent chills down my spine. Girls barely dressed sat lazily on some men's laps while feeding them fruit. Others puffed their cigars, playing cards as they piled stacks of cash on the table. The loud music echoed across the room, vibrating against the floors.

I swallowed hard, letting my practiced smile spread across my lips. "Good evening, and welcome to Club eighteen. I'll be your server for tonight."

The men playing cards lifted their gaze towards me, eyes widening. A fat man with a scar on his left cheek whistled as I walked in, placing the empty glass on the table. "Look what Mira sent us."

"Such a beauty," another added, blowing a cloud of smoke directly on my face.

I forced a smile, picking up a wine bottle as I began filling up the empty glasses. My heart raced against my chest but I forced myself to stay calm, repeating the same words over and over again in my head. 'Smile. Keep their glasses full. Don't cause any trouble.'

Just as I began filling the last empty glass, I felt it. A hand slammed against my ass, squeezing hard. I reacted without thinking, completely forgetting Mira's warning.

I tightened my grip against the wine bottle, slamming it against the hand behind me. The bottle broke on impact, glass shards scattering across the floor.

The fat man with a scar let out a sharp yelp, cursing at me. "You bitch!"

I let out a shuddered breath, my fists folded tightly at my sides. "I apologise, sir. Let me go get some ice."

I turned on my heel, ready to bolt for the door, but two heavy guards stepped in front of me, blocking the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" the scarred man growled, clutching his bleeding hand with a napkin. His eyes burned with fury as he stepped toward me. "You break a bottle on my hand and think a little 'sorry' fixes it?"

"I am truly sorry, sir," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "It was an instinct. Please, let me fetch ice and a doctor for your hand."

"A doctor?" He sneered, a twisted grin spreading across his face as his friends began to laugh around the table. "I don't need a doctor. You want to apologize? You stay right here and spend the night making it up to me."

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills, and slapped it hard against my face. The heavy paper cut against my cheek before the money scattered onto the floor, raining down over my exposed chest and lace outfit.

"Pick it up," he barked. "There's your tip, you dirty whore. Now get on your knees and start apologizing."

I clenched my fists, keeping my eyes away from the money scattered across the floor as my pulse spiked. I lifted my chin and looked straight at him. "I'm a server, sir. I don't sell my body."

"Don't act decent with me!" he shouted, his face turning red. "You're wearing a bunny outfit and still dare to play pretend!"

I spun around and tried to shove past the guards toward the door, but the scarred man shouted, "Hold her down!"

Before I could even scream, the two guards grabbed my arms, twisting them painfully behind my back. I thrashed wildly, kicking my platform heels against their legs, but they dragged me backward and forced me hard onto my knees.

"Let go of me!" I yelled, tears of frustration pricking my eyes.

The scarred man picked up a dark glass off the table and walked over, his heavy boots coming to a stop right in front of my face. He grabbed my jaw, squeezing my cheeks hard.

"You think you can disrespect me?" he snarled, shoving the glass against my lips.

I clamped my mouth shut and thrashed my head side to side, but one of the guards reached down, violently yanking my hair back until my neck strained. The other pinched my nose shut, cutting off my air. The moment I gasped for breath, he poured the bitter liquid straight down my throat. I tried to choke it out, but he held my mouth shut, forcing me to swallow every last drop.

They finally released me, throwing me down onto the carpet. The men in the room cheered and laughed, unbuckling their belts as they gathered around me.

Almost instantly, my head started to spin.

My arms and legs felt heavy, my heart pounded fast against my chest as a strange, overwhelming heat rushed through my body. My vision blurred, turning the room into a messy blur.

"W…what... what did you give me?" I gasped out, my voice weak.

The scarred man laughed, looking down at me with cold satisfaction. "Just a little token to teach you some respect, sweetheart. Soon, you won't even remember your own name."

My eyes filled with tears, but I quickly blinked them away as Theo's face came to mind. His tiny, fragile body lying in that hospital bed, waiting for me to come back. I couldn't leave him alone.

"No!" I cried, forcing my weak arms against the floor. "Help! Somebody help me!"

My fingers dug into the carpet as I dragged myself forward, desperately reaching toward the door. My arms trembled beneath me, but I kept trying, stretching my hand as far as I could. I had to get out. I had to get back to my son.

"Shut her up!" the scarred man snarled, his face twisting in rage as he reached down to grab my lace top.

Just as his hand caught the thin sleeve, the suite door slammed open with a loud bang. The laughter stopped instantly. The room went dead silent.

"What the hell is going on in here?" a deep, icy voice echoed through the room.

The men instantly backed away from me. The scarred man pulled his hand back fast, bowing his head nervously as sweat broke out on his forehead.

"D-Don... Boss... we're so sorry to disturb you. We were just teaching this disobedient stripper a lesson. She attacked me, Boss."

I forced my head up, trying to see through my blurry vision. I couldn't see his face clearly, but when he stepped into the light, my heart stopped. Those broad shoulders. That tall frame. And those sharp, silver eyes staring straight at me.

I knew those eyes. I had spent five years trying to forget them.

"Get your hands off her," he ordered, his voice cold.

The scarred man looked confused. "B-but Boss... she's just a worthless stripper. She broke a bottle on me. She deserves to be taught a lesson."

He stepped closer, his tall figure blocking my view of the men as he stared at them. "She's mine.”