Craving the stripper

Chapter 13

The car rolled to a stop in front of a mansion so big it made Dominic’s estate look modest.

Valets in tailored suits opened the doors before we could breathe. Someone took my hand. Another offered a coat I wasn’t wearing.

Cameras flashed from somewhere behind the gates.

Paparazzi. Press. Vultures.

Dominic held my waist like he always did—tight, territorial, unyielding.

“Smile,” he whispered against my ear. “You’re the most envied woman in the room.”

I didn’t smile.

Because I wasn’t a woman tonight.

I was a collar. A body. A symbol of power on his arm.

⸻

Inside, it was worse.

Gold chandeliers. Marble floors. Guests dripping in couture and plastic charm. Women with necks too thin to support their diamonds. Men with teeth too white to be real.

Eyes followed us.

Not him.

Me.

I didn’t belong.

I was too brown. Too curvy. Too alive. I wasn’t polished or pedigreed. I didn’t speak in Ivy League sarcasm or old-money boredom.

Their stares weren’t just judgmental. They were cruel.

And Dominic?

He didn’t notice.

Or maybe he did—and he liked it.

⸻

At dinner, I was seated beside him. Of course.

But no one spoke to me.

Not really.

They talked about stocks. War. Power plays I didn’t understand.

Every time I reached for my glass, someone’s eyes followed like I was going to drink it wrong.

And when I did speak—just once, barely above a whisper—a woman in pearls let out a soft, icy laugh.

Dominic didn’t correct her.

Didn’t defend me.

He just slid his hand along my thigh under the table, whispering, “Be good, sweetheart.”

And suddenly I knew exactly why he brought me here.

To parade me.

To mark me.

To remind me what I was to him: his. Nothing more.

⸻

Later, in the restroom, one of the women cornered me.

Tall. Blonde. The kind of face that gets handed legacies instead of earning them.

“You’re very brave,” she said, tone syrupy. “Coming here.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I mean,” she smiled, eyes skimming my collar, “it’s not every day someone from… your world gets invited into ours.”

I stared at her.

“My world?”

She smiled wider. “You’re a beautiful toy. I hope he doesn’t get bored too fast.”

I didn’t say a word.

Didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing the sting hit.

But when I got back to the table, I didn’t touch my food.

And when Dominic wrapped his arm around me again, I didn’t lean in.

⸻

Because now I knew the truth.

He didn’t bring me here because he was proud.

He brought me here because I was his favorite possession.

And the best way to show off a toy…

Is to remind everyone else it doesn’t belong.