Dance for the Billionaire(3)
Chantelle held her breath as she waited for him to make a decision. Finally he smiled and said, “Alright. You told me on the phone that you’re twenty-two. You look younger, but call me an old fool, I’ll take your word for it. I know what it’s like to have life kick you in the teeth, so I’m willing to give you a chance. I’ve been looking for a dancer to bring a little sophistication to the club. I think you could be that girl, but let me down, girl, and I’ll fire you on the spot!”
“I promise to do my best.” Chantelle crossed her fingers and breathed a sigh of relief. She was hired! All she needed to do now is find the courage to ask him for the biggest favor of all. But, that could wait until her first night on the job.
“Okay.” The man’s stern expression softened and he smiled.
“Thanks, Mr. Armstrong.” Jumping up, she offered her hand to her new employer. “I must hurry back.”
Rushing out of the building, Chantelle headed to her battered Ford Escort. All in all things had gone well. She had spent less time than she’d thought she would and might be able to quickly finish her cheese sandwich before her lecture started.
Gunning the engine, she quickly reversed out of the club’s parking space. She then slipped a pair of prescription glasses onto the bridge of her nose and glanced at her reflection in the rear view mirror. She smiled as she pulled off the wig and shook her shoulder-length Sisterlocks free. Now all she needed to do was find somewhere convenient to pull over and take off the fake number plates that were neatly covering hers.
Chapter Two
“Armstrong’s got the best bloody dancers in London. You’ll have a great time!”
Property developer Dominic O’Brien gritted his teeth and tried to follow Russell Clark’s inane conversation as they traveled through Shoreditch in the man’s Hummer limousine. He was beginning to understand why the Mafia reputedly eliminated unwanted competition and annoyances. Russell, a rival property developer but on a much smaller scale, had deliberately bought a building he knew Dominic wanted and now the obnoxious older man was trying to jerk him around because he had the upper hand. Dominic already owned nine of the ten adjoining properties on the block, but without Russell’s he couldn’t tear them all down and build the multi-million pound luxury homes he planned to. Russell had bought the property out of spite, at the last possible moment offering the owner ten thousand pounds above the price she had agreed with Dominic. Had the woman asked, Dominic would have raised his offer, but by the time he had gotten wind of the situation the sale had gone through. Russell had stubbornly held on to the property for the last three months.
When they had met earlier in the day the man had suggested Dominic join him on a visit to a strip club to see a magnificent black dancer. Dominic had immediately refused. He could pretty much get any woman he wanted—black, white or other—and if he wanted a woman to strip for him, he could afford to pay one to come to his home and do so privately. But then Russell had upped the ante by promising to give him a final decision on the property, if he came to the club.
“I’m not here to enjoy myself,” he reminded the man curtly. “We do this deal tonight or this is over.”
If at the end of the evening Russell didn’t accept his more than generous offer, he would sell the nine properties he owned at a minimum 50% profit as less than a week ago there had been an announcement of a major shopping centre to be built within a twenty-minute walk from the properties—close enough for convenience, but distant enough to not detract from the purely residential theme he planned to implement. His PA had already had taken calls from several other property developers interested in buying if he decided to sell. It would be a blow as he had a gut feeling the properties would more than quadruple their value within a year. But you win some, you lose some—he would use the money to invest in another up-an-coming part of the capital, if needs be.
This was Russell’s last chance before he cut his losses and moved on.
The members-only club was classier than Dominic had expected. A huge black bouncer shook Russell’s hand and patted him familiarly on the shoulder, before a smiling, scantily-dressed young woman ushered them to a table for two right in front of the stage, once she’d confirmed that they weren’t part of a larger party.
Dominic seated himself in one of the two comfortable leather seats and looked around the large, softly-lit interior. A woman, who looked to be in her mid thirties, performed on the stage, her daring routine twice making Dominic hold his breath, fearing that she would fall on her head and break her neck.