Chapter 6 Striptease
637 Words
Lucy bit her lip hard and lowered her head sharply, tears hitting the floor without a sound.
She didn't even need to look outside—just from the noise, she could tell it was packed out there.
Her face was pale with anger, fists clenching. She wanted nothing more than to tear that damn check out of Alexander's hand.
But the man just looked at her with that same cold disdain, thinking she was just playing hard to get.
He pulled Olivia close into his arms, completely ignoring Lucy's embarrassment.
Lucy couldn't take any more of his humiliation. She turned to leave, just as her phone rang suddenly.
She rarely got calls—her contacts list was small. Any call usually meant something serious.
She pulled out her phone, looked at the screen, and froze. A photo.
A severed finger, bloody.
The ring on that finger—it was her dad's.
Wasn't it supposed to be three days? These animals!
Lucy slowly raised her eyes toward that check in Alexander's hand. Time seemed to freeze.
Everyone's mocking stares made her feel like she'd been stripped naked, standing there like a joke.
But she had no choice. For her father, she had to swallow her pride.
Alexander stared at her struggle with a mocking smirk.
"So, made up your mind?"
Lucy said nothing. Her nails dug into her palms, and she couldn't even feel the pain.
If she really stepped on that stage and stripped, she'd lose everything—her dignity, her self-respect. In his eyes, she'd just be a woman who'd do anything for money.
After this, there'd be no going back.
But if she didn't… she'd be short fifty grand, and those bastards wouldn't let her dad off so easy.
Fingers today. What's next? She didn't dare imagine.
"Fine. I'll dance."
Her voice was steady, determined. She grabbed the hem of her tank top and yanked it up without hesitation, giving herself no time to look back.
She brushed past Alexander without a single glance, heading straight for the stage.
Thanks to years of boxing, she was used to sports bras. Still didn't hide much.
"Whoaaa~"
Whistles erupted from the crowd the moment she got on stage.
Her athletic build instantly drew all eyes, outshining the other dancers completely.
These men stared like animals, eyes fixed on every curve, wanting more.
Alexander's pupils dilated the second she pulled off her top. Blood rushed to his head as the room roared behind him.
"Take it off! Take it off!"
The chant grew louder, rowdier. Lust clouded the men's eyes; some were clearly already way too excited.
Lucy grabbed the waistband of her shorts, shut her eyes, and started to pull.
"Stop!"
A voice thundered across the room like a wild animal's roar.
It was Alexander. His shout cut through the noise like a blade. The men who were about to blow up with rage shut up instantly.
The place went dead silent, the only thing audible was everyone's heavy, unreleased breaths.
"Lucy, how low can you go?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed, dripping with rage.
She pressed her lips tightly together and said nothing.
Yeah, she knew exactly how low she just went. But what options did she really have?
"You don't wanna see the rest?"
"Get out!"
All Alexander wanted now was for her to disappear, to vanish from his sight—and the sight of every man in the room.
Lucy wanted to escape too. God knows she did. But she couldn't.
Her dignity was long gone—in front of him, it meant nothing. So what was the point in pretending?
She stepped off the stage, walked right up to him and asked, calm as ever:
"You're the one who said stop, not me. But the money... I still get it, right?"
- Writer
