YOU MADE ME - A BILLIONAIRE'S SCANDAL

All I want is you, but then, you once were cruel.

***

CROSS’S POV,

The dim light of the club hides my appearance as I settle into a plush sofa far away but facing the stage where the performance will be carried out.

I tune my mind out of all thoughts and focus on the present to avoid mental berating and questioning of the reason I’m seated here in the middle of the night when I had just landed from a flight an hour ago.

A soft tune begins pouring out of the speakers and it aids in keeping my disapproving thoughts away.

With the flicker of lights, my breath shortens as I sit in anticipation, knowing what is about to happen, but hoping that I’m proven wrong.

The stage light turns red, setting an intense mood of arousing tension in accordance with the sensually caressing tune playing in the background.

About thirty men fall silent and sit frozen in anticipation with their eyes fixed on the stage waiting for the performer to come out from backstage.

At the chime of the tune, all my senses remain focused on the soft sound of Stiletto moving enticingly against the marble ground, red and bold with a similar nail polish to match.

My gaze shifts from the shoes to the delicate legs that with each step trap my attention. Smooth, sexy, and inviting.

Slowly, I move my eyes to look at her thighs, tender, soft, and full with a very familiar tattoo of a butterfly resting on its middle.

My cock hardens at this sight and I readjust my position on the sofa before moving my eyes to take in the red lingerie she has on, clinging tightly to her skin, complimenting her olive bronze skin tone and leaving little to the imagination.

The extent of the effect she has on me after so long amazes me and makes me unable to take my eyes off her in appreciation of her effortless appeal to my senses.

My adventurous gaze wanders upwards past her curvy waist, and her attractively flat stomach, and rests on her breasts which stand temptingly with pointed inviting nipples, full and plush, still covered with a flimsy lingerie, promising satisfaction. Looking a lot bigger than I remember.

I move past this with great effort and run my eyes over her delicate neck, which I once held, to her full, plump lips, glimmering with its red lipstick under the lights and then her complimenting red mask which adds mystery and intrigue to her overall sex appeal.

Above all the exquisite features my eyes explore, one look into her eyes makes my heart skip a beat and pulls me into a state of recollection.

These ocean blue eyes that stare seductively at the crowd once glimmered with a smile, deepened in arousal, and softened with passion, but now, they look unreadable though driving a clear promise of pleasure as she walks to the center of the stage.

The flicker of the lights begins again and a sultry, melodious voice sings lyrics accompanying the tune as she begins her performance.

Her manicured fingers hold onto the pole in the center of the stage and she begins a slow stimulating dance that has mouths widened and drools sliding down its corner, as she controls the attention to focus on each part of her body as she will it.

With graceful precision, she calls attention to her ass as she bends over revealing luscious flesh between her thighs, earning whistles from the crowd and with a squat she highlights the arousing arc of her back which she deepens by bouncing her ass cheeks which giggles causing more whistles and hails from her audience.

With the level of attention she’s drawn and seeing that all eyes are fixed on her, she turns, facing the audience with a teasing smile on her lips.

“Hey boys,” she says seductively, maintaining her smile as she walks down into the crowd and slowly takes off her bra, baring her breasts which has all men ogling at her perky tits.

Watching her perform, so comfortably and boldly, I feel a sense of irritation creep under the desire and each act of sexual enticement fuels this emotion.

Once upon a time, she told a tale of discomfort that she felt during performance but here she is gliding gracefully as she bares her body before these male gazes.

“What do y’all have for me tonight?” she asks with a soft, caressing voice that washes through my body like boiling water, heating me up as I stare at her perky tits as she bends over a man’s table, picks up his scotch, slowly drinks it and lets out a low moan.

My cock throbs with need in response and taking from the wads of cash her audience pulls out from their pockets, I’m sure they feel the same way.

A sexy laugh leaves her lips as she catwalks and gets her tips from each table while putting on a show in front of each one.

The howls, whistles, and chants increase by the second and I feel annoyed, as a frown betrays my stoic expression.

I watch her still in the shadows, away from her sight, and ponder on how I had been effortlessly deceived by her.

“Candy, you have one sexy ass,” one of her audience yells in the appraisal, and to this she flicks her hair and sends him an inviting smile.

Edith Hammer, the stripper, my worst and only mistake strides sexily and stops a few paces from my table and for a second when her gaze holds mine, I think she’s seen me but just as enticingly she turns away from me, clueless and goes back up the stage with wads of cash stuck all over her thighs, waist and every available space on her body.

I stand up after the performance, now annoyed at myself, and make my way out of the club without being seen by anyone important.

I leave the club, with my rage on the verge of spilling over, my cock disturbingly hard and throbbing and my mind a mess of the calm and collected state it was before I got in.

This is the last thing I should have done with my brief visit to New York but it turned out that my curiosity got the best of me.

I needed to see her run her hands over the same body she had sworn only came alive with my touch, as she performed for the pleasure of other men.

And gone is the young nineteen-year-old girl that I foolishly believed was innocent and now she’s a sexy, confident woman in her true form of an attractive serpent.

Who would have known that I would be this affected after four years of not seeing her and worse, even while knowing her personality hasn’t changed?

I wasted an hour of my time on a memory that should never have resurfaced, what exactly was I thinking?

Deep down I knew she remained the same whore she was four years ago, a cunning, lying whore with a knack for deceit.

A whore I had put behind me for the sake of my sanity, a whore I had dated and been vulnerable with but turned around to bite me in the ass.

A whore I should never have trusted, an ex I shouldn’t have remembered.

For four years I worked tirelessly to put all the pain and self-condemnation she caused behind me and instead of wallowing I used it to become the man I am today.

A multi-billionaire with a solid, cold, and terrifying backbone gotten from a reputation of being merciless and cruel in all business dealings, both illegal and legal.

With chains of command all over the underground illegal dealings in America and a pristine cover of working as the acting CEO of a multi-billion dollar exporting company owned by my father, I’ve made my position as one of the richest and most dangerous men in the world.

I get into my car carefully ridding myself of all thoughts of her, deciding that it was a mistake to bring her back into my mind after four years of ignoring her existence and shutting off each attempt of recollection.

I converted each atom of emotion, the pain, and the heartbreak into pure, cold rage and became a force to be reckoned with.

The sound of my ringtone brings me out of my thoughts and snaps me into composure.

My acting COO name, also my closest associate, flashes across the screen and I pick it up and answer.

“We have a problem,” his voice comes through the phone speaker in a panic.

“What is it, Lawrence?” My voice comes out cold and unaffected, the opposite of my uncollected state a moment ago.

“The board held a meeting and decided on your replacement as CEO, they are convinced that you won’t meet your father’s requirements,” he says, sounding worried.

I wouldn’t put it past them to try to impeach me before my deadline, there’s no denying that the last thing they all want is to see me as the CEO of the company.

“Those bastards don’t know what they are doing. They are like babies who need direction and that’s exactly what we’ll give them,” I say with an icy tone. “ Show them their dirty linens and explain to them how easily it can be made public.”

With that, my quest in New York just became solidified. Find a wife or lose my birthright.

***

To forget you was pain, and now I won’t see you again.

To forget you was pain, and now I won’t see you again.

***

EDITH’S POV.

“Argh!” I exclaim in disgust as I sit on the vanity chair.

One man had even touched me while drooling like a dog and no matter how many times this happens, it doesn’t irritate me any less.

At least the urge to puke isn’t there anymore.

“You were great out there,” my co-worker, Gertrude says while adding final touches to her makeup.

“Thank you, break a leg out there,” I say with a polite smile seeing she’s going on stage next.

She just smiles and nods before walking out of the dressing room, walking with the same confidence that has been drilled into us after years of performing in a repeated pattern.

‘Cover your goods, walk out like an advertised product, uncover part of your goods for the finale, do all these looking like you enjoy being marketed’, is the normal routine for each performance.

“Most importantly, smile like a good sexy Barbie,” I whisper to myself with an eye-roll as I take out the wad of cash stuck on my thigh.

Once I’m done taking out all the money, I count them as usual before standing up and throwing an ankle-length coat over my body and walking out.

Part of my nightly routine is to ensure that I give the club its share of my tips.

Roughly thirty percent of my earnings each night and on days like this when I have fewer audience, it really is a discomfort.

I walk out of the dressing room and head towards Angel’s desk, the club’s task collector, extremely gullible but still efficient.

“Angel, girl, I love the outfit.”

I get to her desk with a plastered interested smile, one that I’ve mastered over the years.

“Thanks, Candy, I thought I’d spice my wardrobe up a bit, so I went shopping this afternoon and I got this new skirt and – ” she starts her usual chirpy story session and I smile and nod even though not mentally registering anything she’s saying.

“That’s amazing!” I say with fake enthusiasm. “Well I just came to give you my tips for tonight, I have a long day tomorrow so I have to head home early,” I say, choosing to spare myself of extra details that I would eventually have to respond to.

“Oh! No problem,” she says with an understanding smile, taking the cash from my hand and placing it on the electronic cash counter. “Okay, so you have three grand as your cut. You didn’t make so much today,” she says, handing the money over to me.

“That can’t be right,” I say with a surprised look, “ How much did you take from it?”

“You know, the usual thirty percent.”

“But you said I’d get eighty percent today ‘cause I performed twice on Tuesday,” I argue, keeping a direct stare on her just as a confused look comes to her face.

“You didn’t – ”

“I did, you asked me to, remember?” I say persistently, keeping a vulnerable expression.

“But Red Rose took the stage after you did,” she says looking even more confused.

“After her, I went on and you promised Angel, that’s why I did it,” I say with a calmer tone and a hurt expression.

She stays quiet for a moment looking confused, guilty, and uncomfortable and slowly, I watch these expressions become more intense.

“You know what, if you don’t believe me then – ”

“No it’s fine, It just slipped my mind that’s all. Thank you for helping,” she interrupts me as expected, pulling out extra cash and handing it to me.

“You’re welcome,” I say with a grateful smile before turning to walk away from her table. A mischievous smile comes to my face once I’m out of sight.

I’m three steps closer to the exit when I feel a hand on my arm that pulls me forcefully to a side.

“What the fuck!?” I exclaim when I’m stuffed in a corridor with a masculine figure towering over me.

“Deceiving Sweet Angel wasn’t very nice of you Ed,” David says with his face close to mine.

“You need to stop doing this,” I say, trying to push him, but he doesn’t budge. “You keep coming up with forceful means to talk to me, it’s making me extremely uncomfortable,” I add with a glare.

“I wouldn’t have to be forceful if you choose to speak to me when I ask nicely,” the smell of cigarettes on his breath irritates me and I turn my head to the side.

“I’m under no obligation to talk to you David, in fact, that’s the last thing I want to do. You broke my heart, remember? So pardon me if I want nothing to do with you,” I say the last part, looking at him dead in the eyes.

“Edith, I apologized. ”

“It doesn’t change what you did,” I say gently this time, with a soft gaze, pushing him lightly and walking away, knowing that he is too guilt-tripped to try and stop me.

Out of everything I despise about this place and everything I’m compelled to do due to my financial needs, messing with people’s minds here is the least irritating thing.

David Riddle, my boss and ex-lover has had an amusing sense of possession towards me ever since we dated.

I had to hatch up a dubious plan to leave the relationship, which was the best decision I’ve ever made and since then, each night he sets eyes on me, he keeps trying to talk me into getting back with him, which leads to a fun evening of emotional blackmail.

Sweet Angel on the other hand had this coming when she purposely set me up for an extra gig on a Saturday, when she knows that I never perform on Saturdays.

Besides I already got David to agree that our earnings should be eighty percent instead of seventy, but she refused to implement it because it means her pay gets reduced, even when all she does is stand behind a makeshift counter and take money she didn’t work for.

This is really too weak to be a penalty for her insensitivity, I might have to handle it seriously.

Because regardless of people’s bullshit, I always ensure that I get what I deserve especially with the extent of discomfort I go through each night.

Baring my body in front of numerous strangers is not my ideal job, but no matter how much I despise it, I don’t have a better, morally upright means to achieve my goal.

With my mother in the hospital, I cannot afford to be picky with my choice of work.

For seven years I’ve worked this part and each day it appalls me no less.

I wish for a better life than what I have but opportunity hasn’t presented itself for me to get financial stability enough to stop what I do.

With these thoughts I take in a deep breath, walking out of the club and hailing a cab to head home, needing rest after a hectic day.

Once I get home, I run my usual night-after-performance routine before going to bed.

Wednesdays are always the most stressful for me considering I perform at night and still have to wake up early for work on Thursday.

I fall asleep once my head hits the pillow and in what seems like five minutes my alarm rings waking me up for the day.

Being my usual groggy self each morning, I sluggishly stand up from the bed still tired and still in need of a good sleep.

I hurriedly prepare for work, not needing extra complications in my life like a query for being late.

Working at Walmart as a sales assistant isn’t exactly a dream job and doesn’t quite cover my mother’s medical expenses, but it helps for a good cover and extra cash for maintenance besides my savings.

I walk out of my apartment after I’m done preparing and begin my usual stroll to a café across the streets, a few walkable miles from Walmart.

I get to the Café and make an order for coffee and doughnuts, not feeling up to eating my usual scones.

I get my order and I’m about to leave when I get shoved in the back unexpectedly, which makes me lose my balance and nearly my footing.

“Oh my God!” I exclaim as I try to steady my coffee while a stranger who caught me tries to steady me.

“Are you alright?” he asks, placing me back on my feet with a concerned look.

“Yeah, I’m sorry – I guess I should have moved faster considering it’s chocolate Thursday,” I say with a small laugh, watching the waiter who hit me walk by in haste without even realizing.

“Chocolate Thursday?” the stranger asks with an eyebrow crooked up.

“Yeah, it happens every month. I just forgot and didn’t notice today so I guess my now half cup of coffee is my fault,” I say raising my coffee for emphasis, with a friendly smile hiding my annoyance for having to drink anything less than a full cup today.

“Oh, so that’s what’s happening,” he says looking at the busy crowd in the café, “I thought they served magic cakes or something for them to be this packed.”

I chuckle at his statement, understanding his deduction, this is way too many people for a small café.

“Don’t be silly, magic cakes are only on Sundays and this place looks like a market then.”

“Ahh! So this crowd is nothing.”

“Absolutely,” I say with a laugh while he smiles charmingly.

“Are you working?” he asks suddenly and I give him a blank look. “I mean, there’s this great paying job that I’m holding interviews for, you look very qualified for it.”

“Well, this took a sudden turn,” I say with a smirk and he just smiles waiting for a response, “I work at a store, I’m sure I possibly couldn’t be qualified for such a job,” I say dismissively.

“Believe me, you look very qualified,” he says, smiling fully which shows me his cute dimples that make him look more attractive, besides the entire cool and charming undercover businessman look he has going on now.

“What exactly is this job about?”

“How about you come for the interview at this location and find out, I’m sure you have work to go to right now,” he says handing me the card with such smoothness and suave that leaves no room for negativity.

Not saying a word, I give him an amused smile as I take the card before walking away.

What happened to all my self-given stranger danger lectures?

It doesn’t take long to reach Walmart and with my first step inside I’m ambushed by Venus, my best friend.

“Did you hear? There’s a hot new CEO in town.”

“Really?” I ask, placing a peck on her cheek, though considering that I might have just met him, Mr Stranger looked a lot like CEO quality to me.

“Yeah, Cross Deville in all his smoking hot glory,” I stand frozen in shock at the pronunciation of the name.

A name I haven’t heard for over four years but still lingers at the back of my mind like a shard of glass stuck in my flesh.

Why the hell is he here and most importantly why does the sound of his name still affect me?

***

Fiery gazes burn passion but for us it builds foundations.