Mafia Don's Baby Mama

2; Private requests.

Hermione Hudson.

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, and I nearly staggered as I felt as though cold water had been dumped on me. I could not believe my eyes. I want to believe otherwise, but I know those forest green eyes way too much to not rceognize it. I have lived with it in my mind every single day for the past six years of my life to not be able to recognize it anywhere.

There is no denying it. It really is him.

And judging from how intense his gaze was, and the way he held my gaze, he recognized me as well, even with the mask. I could not see his face clearly, given he was far, but those eyes I could recognize anywhere.

The sound of cheers from the background returned to my mind, making me blink and snap back to reality. I quickly tore my gaze from him, coming down from the pole as the music came to an end, and so did my performance. I did my best to hide my shock of seeing him, forcing a smile on my face as I leaned down and picked up the money thrown at me. It is degrading I know, but what other choice do I have?

Once I picked up all the money, tonight a bit more than usual, I mentally rejoiced a bit because I could at least afford Belle's medicines. It is still far from her surgery fees, but I am on the way regardless. As I picked up all the money, I quickly waved at the men as I am supposed to, and as I turned around to walk back, one of the men reached out and grabbed my leg, making me whip my head around to look at him with wide eyes.

The older man seemed to be about in his mid or late fifties, his wrinkled face and grey hair a testament of such. I tried to pull my leg away from him, but he held it tighter, his hand moving upwards to rest on my hips, before he groped my eyes. My eyes widened, my hand itching to slap him away but I dared not.

It is against the rules to hit clients no matter what, and doing so could get me sacked, and I could not afford that.

"Come to my booth," He said, his voice gravelly, the heavy scent of liquor in his breath evident. "Serve me well."

I swallowed down a lump, holding myself back as I tried to push his hand away from my ass, uncomfortable as ever as I as politely as I could, "I am sorry, Sir. I do not entertain clients personally." It wa sone of the agreements I made when I started working here.

I would dance for them all in general, but no private dances, much less leading to more. It was the one way I could save my dignity, what is left of it anyways. And they have stick to it so far. Though every once in a while, there are persistent people like this man here.

He scoffed, ignoring my words as if it meant nothing. "How much are you worth? I will pay you to warm my bed." He gave me a onceover that made me feel disgusted by myself, his hand still refusing to let go of my ass. And I felt as though I was seconds away from puking my stomach content as he licked his lips and found my gaze again. "Come on, slut. You are just a filthy w***e anyways. You are used to serving in bed with that body of yours. Do not go acting all holy on me now."

I will not lie, I have been called all sorts of things so far that I have grown a thick skin to it, so this man calling me a w***e and slut did not do anything to me. Thankfully, our club coordinator came to my rescue, pulling me away from the persistent man.

"Pearl does not accept private clients." He said, his tone firm, but nice at the same time. "Feel free to summon any of our other strippers." Then, without waiting for the man's response, he turned around and gestured for me to go back.

I gave him a look of appreciation, before I rushed back inside, making a beeline to the restrom, rushing into an empty stall and falling on my knees where I ended up puking the contents of my stomach. To say I felt disgusted by the man's touch would be an understatement, I felt my skin crawling and the way he looked at me, I felt nauseated all over again.

Once I had emptied out my stomach content and flushed it out, I rested and took a moment to regain myself when familiar voices of other strippers reached my ears, as they walked in and gossiped about none other than me.

"What is up with that Pearl girl? She is acting as though she is holy by not accepting private requests." One said.

The other with her scoffed. "Holy? Pfft. She is just acting as though she is better than us all. She has only been here for a few months and yet she is all the men's favorite."

"All she has is her body to sell. I am sure she is saving herself to the man that would offer the highest bid. There is no such a thing as a holy slut. A w***e, is a w***e. And she is one. Trust me, she will crawl into a man's bed sooner or later." The two women laughed up as they finished thier gossip, before they left.

I made my way out of the stall, moving to the faucet as I washed my mouth, ignoring their words. There is no point throwing a tantrum about it. At least, I am done for the night and all I could think of now is going back home to my children. Anything that would get me out of this place as soon as I can before I run into Alex again. With that thought in mind, I made my way out of the restroom, only for my gaze to fall on our coordinator standing outside, as if waiting for someone.

"Mr. Walter..." I called out in a low voice.

He lifted his gaze to meet mine, before he offered me an apologetic look. "I am sorry, Pearl. I have no other choice."

My brows drew in, "What are you talking about?"

"You have a private request." He announced, his expression grim and solemn. "He is a very important client. We cannot turn him down."

My eyes widened as I shook my head. "No. Mr. Walter. Get him someone else, you know I do not do that."

"He does not want anyone else, he only wants you." He said, his expression and words serious. "He is not someone to be messed with Pearl. You have no other choice."

"Mr. Walter..." I began to shake my head.

"I mean it, Pearl." He pressed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "He could screw us all over if you do not go." There was something about his tone that told me this client is different from the others truly. He had never tried to convince me into entertaining anyone, and yet he is the one doing so now? The person really must be not to be messed with. "Please." He added. his gaze flicked over his shoulder, and only then did I realize the two bulk and tattoed men standing a few feet behind us, thier stern gazes set on me.

My heart hammered behind my ribcage, and I knew they would not hesitate to drag me there. I hesitantly nodded, making him release a sigh of relief.

He then turned around and led me upstairs towards where the VIP person is, the bulky men following closley behind in an intimidating way. I swallowed down a lump, my heart thumping as I followed Mr. Walter. I have never been to this side of the club before, and yet here I am. We reached the room at the very end, and he knocked on the door, before a deep voice came, giving us permission to enter.

He entered first, while I hid behind him. His voice came, shaky. "Here she is, Mr. Petrov."

Petrov? As in Petrov Marcini, the Russian Mafia Lord? f**k. This is bad.

And just when I though things could not get worse, Mr. Walter stepped aside, my gaze falling on the man and I could swear my weak knees nearly gave up on me as my gaze found that of those familiar forest green eyes.

It's him. Alex.