Before my father, King Yasen, died, he told me that if I didn’t choose a bride and get married, he would dissolve the royal line and donate all of my inheritance, which was the whole of the royal fortune, to charity. The Parliament would then become the ruling force of the land, a group of men hell bent on seeing me poor and in the dirt. Let’s just say my antics over the last thirty-five years of life have not left them with a good taste in their mouths. My father was so intent on forcing me to settle down, that he was willing to kill a 700-year royal reign to see his kingdom end in prosperity. I mean, part of me, the sober part, understood that he was terrified of me squandering the royal fortune like my uncle had done, before my father took the throne from him. But that wasn’t my plan. You couldn’t really impress the chicks with no money in your pocket.
When my father passed away two weeks ago, I thought I was in the clear, but my mother was just two steps behind him, telling me she would make sure my father’s wishes were fulfilled, even if it was the last thing she did as queen. On the one hand, I did not want to settle down. That life was not for me. The responsibility of an entire kingdom on my shoulders and a wife and kids to deal with were not enticing in the least. On the other hand, there was no way I could keep up with the elite clubs and hot girls without a penny in my pocket. I was a good-looking guy, but damn if my pocket change wasn’t what kept the girls throwing themselves at me. But how the hell was I supposed to pull off both of these?
I poured another shot of whiskey and took it down hard, wincing at the burn in my chest. All this thought of marriage and my father was really starting to get to me. However, even cloaked in an extreme amount of alcohol, my brain started creating a solution to this little problem of mine. I glanced up at Brat, who was still staring at me with judgmental eyes. I waved away his attempts to woo the drink from my hand and turned toward the red glowing lights of the stage. I took a sip of my drink and sat back watching as Ms. Tutu danced off the stage with an arm full of euros. That must be a month’s worth of bills for that girl, I thought to myself, chuckling. I starte
d to pick my drink back up when a golden goddess walked into the lights. Her long blonde hair bounced around her, and her body was curvy in all the right places. I leaned forward as the music started and watched as she strutted down the runway, just like a queen.
My mouth, normally curved up in a devilish smile, hung open as I watched this Golden Goddess. She made her way to the end of the stage, turning and shaking her ass for the crowd. The men went wild for this girl, but all I could think of was the plan I had just cooked up in my devious little mind. I slammed the full glass of whiskey on the table and turned to Brat.
“Get me some coffee,” I said, watching exasperation cross his face.
He stood and walked off to find a waitress. I sat and watched as this girl ruled with a golden body suit. Men fell to their knees in front of the stage and threw money at her. The fierce look on her face screamed control, and I instantly had to know more about this girl. She was gorgeous, and her blue eyes sliced through the red lights, piercing right into my chest. She glanced over at me as I sat watching, probably wondering if I was going to come tip her. Not yet. I really wanted to see what this girl was made of. Was she just a coked-out drama queen like the rest of these girls, or was she really as poised and regal as she seemed to be? If she was, then all I could think was: how the hell did she end up dancing at a strip club in Prague? Girls that held themselves like that were usually rich snobs, looking for their next husband, like Brat’s sister, Zlata, who thought I was oblivious to her attempts at gaining the crown by marrying me.
The thing about girls like Zlata was they were born with the same silver spoon as I was. They thought they were slick with their sweet smiles and cute jokes, but I knew a raging bitch was lurking just under the skin. One thing worse than getting married was marrying some controlling cunt who was going to nag me about everything in our lives. I could see my future now if I married Zlata. I would have all the riches in the world, but I would be locked down so tight I’d never see the inside of a club, or another woman, for the rest of my days. I would be reduced to a fancy placeholder in the throne room, waving at my staff and smiling during parades, secretly thinking about pushing my wife from the moving car.
I looked back up and stared at the girl on stage. She pulled her jumpsuit down, dancing along to her rock music and letting men stick euros down her cleavage. If she could con some drunk assholes out of money, using nothing more than an angry stare and her breasts, she could totally run a country.
Brat walked back to the table. I grabbed the coffee from him and attempted to sober myself up. I needed to think clearly, and the damn whiskey and shots were making it impossible. Maybe there was a benefit to a few moments of sobriety, like my mother kept trying to tell me. Either way, I had concocted the perfect deal in my head, and I could only hope this Golden Stripper, from God knows where, would be down for the ride.
I reached over and topped off my cup, taking another sip of the hot liquid, wishing the caffeine would hit my brain faster than the alcohol was. I leaned back and relaxed, realizing there was nothing I could do at that moment, except wait and watch. She would get some of my Euros real soon, but they came at a price.
As I sat there gazing upon this amazing creature, my father’s words played over and over in my head.
Marry or lose the Kingdom.
Chapter 3: Adriana
My hips moved with the beat of the music, and I lifted my arms high in the air, opening my eyes and staring off into the distance. Instantly, my gaze fell upon a man in the back section of VIP. As I danced, I stared him, and heat rose in my chest. His dark skin and dark eyes were haunting, and I immediately felt uncomfortable. I’d never felt anything for the men gawking from the shadows.
I kept the idea of being a queen in mind as I strutted across the stage, watching the adoring peasants at my feet, tossing money as tribute. Intimidation wasn’t really something that entered my mind when I thought of a queen, but, as I danced, he watched my every move, every flick and every shake. I hoped he would come up and tip me during my first set, but I ended up disappointed as he sat in the back behind the allure of the velvet ropes, just gazing at me.
When my song ended, I collected my money and my clothes and went back stage to change. I felt shaken from my normal stance of confidence, but I didn’t let it show on my face as Sveta passed by, hitting my elbow. Reg had decided on some weird hip hop dance montage for Sveta’s outfits tonight. She walked out on stage in tear-away pants and a ripped shirt that allowed just enough of her breasts to hang out to curl the boys’ toes. Seeing what she was forced to wear, I winced as I picked up the two-piece gold bikini and held it in front of me. There was literally enough cloth to cover my nipples and half of my vag. I shook my head, and I pulled the strings over me and tied them in a loose bow at the back.
Sveta’s second set wasn’t as long, and I could see the exhaustion on her face as she exited the stage. Several girls had quit over the last few months, tired of Reg’s bullshit, no doubt. That left Sveta and me to pick up the slack. At first, we were all about the extra money, telling Reg not to hire more girls. But now, as the nights wore on, we were dying for a break.
I took a deep breath and stood at the edge of the curtain, ready for my next song. As soon as the beat started pumping, I strutted out on the floor, trying to ignore the incredibly hot man staring at me from the back. But that proved impossible. As I swung around the pole on stage, I watched as he stood and walked through the ropes and up to the stage. He watched my every move like a hawk, not letting anything slide. I was used to rich assholes hunting me down on stage, but for some reason, this guy brought a different kind of feeling to the pit of my stomach.
My eyes shifted from him to the others, and he pulled a large roll of money from his pocket and started tossing it at my feet. I looked down as I moved my hips, and realized he was not tossing single Euros. He was tossing hundreds.
As the song wore on, my nerves lit on fire, and I watched as the mysterious man unfolded the wad of hundreds and began tossing them two at a time. There was enough money at my feet to cross Europe twice. Heat bubbled in my belly, and I tried to push my strange attraction to the back of my mind. I stepped forward closer to him, giving him a good view of what he came to see. His mouth curled into a devilish smile, and he stepped back, tossing the bills from a distance. I couldn’t figure out what this guy wanted.
The intensity of his stare was so strong, I could barely lock my gaze with his. The small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth made me feel like the queen I had walked out here, pretending to be. It made me want to dance harder and longer, but just for him. Maybe the gold outfit wasn’t so bad after all. Although, I think I could have come out in a jumpsuit, and this guy would still be standing here. He didn’t watch me like he was devouring my body. He watched me like he was about to devour my soul, but in a really good way. I closed my eyes for a minute and felt the beat moving through me, knowing he was glued to the end of the stage. I needed to get my head straight. There shouldn’t be a single person in this place that made me lose my cool, not even Mr. VIP sexy lips.
When the song finished, I picked up all the bills and looked up at the man. He bowed his head and walked back toward the VIP, stopping and talking for a moment with Reg. I hope he wasn’t one of Reg’s boys, not that he had many friends with money like that, but they were always douche bags, trying to stick their fingers where they didn’t belong.
I ran backstage and dropped the hundreds on the table, stacking them quickly, knowing I had to get out on the floor. I could almost not believe how much cash I was holding in my hand. I stuffed it into the envelope and into my drawer for now. I had to turn it in to Reg later on tonight. The bright lights backstage and the darkness of club blinded me for a moment. I fixed the straps on my bodysuit, definitely not wearing the string bikini out on the floor. As I walked along winking at the men in the chair, Reg motioned for me to come over to him.
“You have a VIP request to join the party, have fun with His Maj
esty,” Reg said with a coy smile, before slapping me on the ass and pushing me toward the ropes.
I glared back at him. He laughed before walking forward and smiling at the bouncer. I slowly approached the table where the dark-haired man sat. My heart picked up in speed, and heat rose in my belly. He motioned for me to sit, smiling kindly at me in a way I wasn’t used to. Awkwardly, I shuffled to the side and sat down in the booth, crossing my legs and leaning forward, trying to remember he was waiting for my seductive side, not my clumsy, young girl side.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, motioning to the table.
There were several bottles of vodka and one bottle of whiskey lined up across the table. I made it a point to never drink alcohol with the customers, something Reg hated, but put up with. I shook my head. He pulled a mug from behind the ice bucket and poured me a cup of Turkish coffee. I felt slightly sheepish, but took the mug and sipped from it, happy to have something warm in the cold club air. I smiled awkwardly over my cup as he sat there staring at me. Was I supposed to give him a lap dance? I put the coffee down expecting that to be the next thing.
“What do you like to do for fun?” His dark eyes cut right through me.