The Stripping Heiress

{Hailey’s POV} The supervisor’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke and pulsing music. “This is the room number a client paid for you,” she said, handing me a slip of paper with “room 12” written in black ink. My heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of what came next. This is what I live for– surviving, one night at a time, one client at a time, to escape the grip of my stepfather, Richard. I’d just stepped off stage, my skin still slick with sweat from dancing. The club was a dark, pulsing beast, filled with men and women chasing fleeting pleasures. Naked bodies swayed under dim lights, thongs barely clinging to hips, asses shaking for crumpled bills tossed onto the stage. I adjusted my red lace thong, the only thing I wore besides a pair of heels, and headed to the private room in the black. Room 12 was tucked at the end of a narrow hallway, the door heavy and soundproof. I knocked once, and a deep voice rumbled from inside. “Come in” The man

{Hailey Pov} I have never flown before. Looking down from ten thousand feet, I could imagine myself farther than Paris, the Maldives, and the United Kingdom. Places that used to live in my daydreams. Places I’d escape to, someday But now… Beside me, Kiara was in heaven, sipping on a complimentary cocktail. “Picture time,” she chirped. Across the aisle, a lady shot Kiara a disapproving look. I wasn’t sure whether the target of her disapproval was Kiara's wide curls, the mini dress she wore, or the unapologetic selfie she was attempting to take, or the volume with which she’d just said the phrase warm nuts. Adopting my haughtiest look, I leaned toward Kiara and raised my warm nuts high. Kiara giggled, laid her head on my shoulder, and snapped the pic. She turned the phone to show me. “I’ll send it to you when we land.” The smile on her face wavered, just for a second. “Don’t put it online, okay? Craig doesn’t know where you are, does he?” I bit back the urge to remind her t

{Hailey’s Pov} The Great Room was two-thirds the size of the foyer. An enormous stone fireplace stood at the front. There were gargoyles carved into the sides of the fireplace. Literal gargoyles. Kiara and I sat on the wingback chairs, three older gentlemen in suits stood, talking to Agnes and her husband. The lawyers, I realized. After another few minutes, Clara joined them, and I took stock of the other occupants of the room. A White couple, older, in their sixties at least. A Black man, forties, with a military bearing, who stood with his back to a wall and maintained a clear line of sight to both exits. Aaron with what was clearly another Lachlan brother by his side. This one was in his midtwenties. He needed a haircut and had paired his suit with cowboy boots that, like the motorcycle outside, had seen better days. Luca, I thought, recalling the name that Clara had provided. “Are you all right, Hailey?” Kiara asked beside me. “I’m fine,” I told Kiara. But I wasn’t. E

{Hailey’s POV} “Now, then,” Mr. Smith continued as if no one had just declared my public enemy number one, “there is one final stipulation.” Of course, there was. “To receive full, irrevocable access to her inheritance,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “Ms. Vale must reside in Lachlan House for one year, commencing no more than three days from now.” The room exploded. “What the hell?” Julian was the first to break. Not surprised. “Not.” “That’s absurd,” Agnes snapped. “I’ll allow it,” Aaron said, too brightly. “Might as well see how this soap opera ends.” My stomach dropped. “Wait. I have to live here?” Mr. Smith didn’t even blink. “Yes.” With them?” “Yes.” “Here?” I pointed down at the marble floor like I might find the answer there. “In this house. With the murderous stares. And Julian Lachlan?” “You’re not staying,” Julian growled. “She has to stay,” Clara said flatly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Otherwise she forfeits the inheritance.” Mr. Smith nodded. “Preci

{Hailey’s POV}“We can’t stay here, Kiara. This family is two seconds from drawing blood over a will. We need to go before I break a vase over Julian’s head.”She didn’t ask questions. Ride-or-die, that’s my girl.“I’m coming with you,” a deep voice said. I turned. Williams Brown stood next to the front door. I hadn’t heard him open. “I don’t need a babysitter,” I told him. “I just need to get out of here, breathe air that isn’t soaked in generational entitlement and repressed murder fantasies.”“You’ll need security for the rest of your life.” He was so matter-of-fact, I couldn’t even begin to argue. “But look on the bright side.…” He nodded to the car that had picked us up at the airport. “I also drive.”I asked Williams to take us to a motel. Instead, he drove us to the fanciest hotel I’d ever seen, and he must have taken the scenic route, because Clara Smith was waiting for us in the lobby. “I’ve had a chance to read the will in full.” That was her version of hello.“I brought a