Are you mad, Steph? my mind hissed as I stood in the dressing room behind the bar, heart jackhammering against my ribs.
This might be the opportunity you’ve been craving. Just put it on and be Daddy’s good girl.
He handed me the stripper mask—black lace, covering just my eyes and nose like a sexy domino, leaving my mouth free. Feathers along the edges. Cheap, slutty, perfect.
I stared at it for half a second, then slipped it on. The lace tickled my cheeks. Made me feel anonymous. Dangerous. Like someone else could do this filthy thing I’d never admit to sober.
Good girl.
I took the tray from the other server—champagne flutes, a bottle of top-shelf whiskey, ice bucket—and stepped into the VIP lounge on the third floor.
Woahh.
There he was.
Nathan.
Slouched in the corner booth, bl
