I wasn’t expecting the envelope.
It was handed to me by a man in a dark suit who had been sitting at the far corner of the strip club all night, sipping from a glass he barely touched. He didn’t look like the regulars — too polished, too controlled. When I stepped offstage, covered in nothing but sweat, glitter, and bills stuffed in my garter, he walked up without hesitation, handed me a sleek black envelope, and said, “They’re expecting you. Tonight.”
I blinked, but he was already gone.
Inside was a single sheet of thick black paper, handwritten in gold ink:
You’ve been seen.
You’ve been chosen.
Come to the penthouse at 11.
Wear nothing but your confidence.
– D & C Sterling
My breath caught.
Everyone in the club knew the name Sterling. Damon and Celeste Sterling — the billionair
