Blackmailed by the Italian Billionaire

Chapter Two



Lia stumbled through the door into the murky nightclub, righted herself on her borrowed heels, and stood inside, blinking a little. For a moment, it was a relief to be in the cool darkness, then her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

“Holy crap.”

On the stage, right in front of her, an almost-naked blonde, with the most enormous breasts Lia had ever seen, was doing something obscene and definitely inadvisable with a stainless steel pole.

Her eyes widened, and she glanced away only to find her gaze dragged back. She’d spent all day with her best friend Kelly being transformed into Kelly’s idea of an exotic dancer. Now, staring at the woman on the stage, it was obvious Kelly had no more idea of what an exotic dancer looked like than she did.

Great job, Kelly.

Stiffening her back, she tried to remember Kelly’s instructions. Think bimbo, her friend had told her—nobody will expect you to have a brain. Unfortunately, if the woman on the stage was anything to go by, they were going to expect her to have breasts.

A truly horrible thought occurred to her. Would they want to see them? She went cold at the idea and sneaked another quick peek at the stage. They wouldn’t expect her to do anything like that, would they?

No freaking way.

Don’t think about it. Focus on the plan.

Trouble was, planning had never been one of her strong points. She was more of a “jump right in and worry about the consequences later” sort of person. But at least the plan was simple. All she had to do was meet Harley Watson, pretend she needed a job, and then casually slip in a question about her father’s whereabouts. After that, she could leave, and she need never come near the place again. So what if the club wasn’t quite what she expected? It wasn’t as though she actually wanted a job here.

Okay—step one: find Harley Watson. She peered around for someone to ask, finally spotting a waitress leaning on the bar. Lia moved over to her.

“Excuse me,” she said, tapping the waitress’s arm. “I have an appointment with Mr. Watson.”

“You do? With Harley?” the woman asked, giving Lia a far-from-flattering inspection. “He’s over there.” She nodded in the direction of a shadowed booth.

“Thank you.”

There were two men in the booth. One of them stood up and withdrew farther into the shadows as Lia approached. Lia tripped in the darkness, cursed, caught herself on the table, and found herself nose-to-nose with the biggest man she’d ever seen.

She knew she must have met Harley Watson as a child, but had no recollection. If she had, she was convinced she would have come up with a different plan—one that didn’t involve her being here. He was huge! Not merely tall, but broad and dressed entirely in black leather, with black hair pulled into a ponytail. His dark eyes lingered insolently on her breasts, or more likely lack of breasts. She resisted the urge to thrust them forward—it really wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she wiped a clammy palm down the side of her dress and held it out in front of her. He ignored the hand, and she let it drop to her side.

“So, you’re Jimmy Brent’s girl—Olivia?”

Lia plastered a smile on her face. “Yes,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. Watson. But call me Lia—everyone does.”

“And you can call me Harley. So, how’s your mum, then?”

“Fine,” Lia said lying. “She sends her regards.”

Harley Watson lifted one eyebrow in obvious disbelief. As well he might. Her mother would have shriveled up in shame if she ever found out where Lia was and what she was up to. But then her mother was dead and would never know, a fact Lia had thought best to keep to herself in case Harley Watson had some fond memories of her mother, which wouldn’t extend to her.

“Now darling, what is it I can do for you?”

He sounded bored, uninterested in her answer, and Lia swallowed. “I need a job.”

“You said you wanted to be a dancer. Like that?” He nodded toward the stage, and Lia risked a quick peek. The blonde seemed to be getting even more intimate with the stainless steel pole. And seriously, were those breasts for real? It seemed highly unlikely. Lia looked away but couldn’t resist a glance down at her less than generous proportions. She’d always been pleased by her lack of curves, always considered breasts as something that got in the way. Now she couldn’t help but compare herself with the blond. It didn’t seem possible that they were the same species.

“I don’t suppose you do a classic night?” she asked hopefully. “Ballroom?”

He curled his lips into something halfway between a smile and a snarl. “It’s a strip club, darling. What do you think?”

Lia bit her lip and decided an answer wasn’t expected of her.

“Experience?” he asked.

Of what, Lia wondered wildly. “I brought my résumé.” She scrabbled in her bag for the piece of paper and handed it over. He put it on the table without even glancing at it, then lounged back in his chair, lit a cigarette, and took a long draw, eyeing Lia through the smoke.

“Okay, let’s have a look at you.”

“What?” she squeaked.

“Lose the clothes, sweetheart. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Here?”

“Well,” Harley said, and Lia could hear the thread of cold amusement in his voice, “if you can’t do it in front of us, you’re going to find it pretty difficult up there.” He nodded toward the stage.

He did have a point.

“Come on.” His voice roughened with impatience, and his expression became even more menacing as he stared at her coldly. “Are you wasting my time?”

Lia had the strangest feeling she was going to throw up. Heat washed over her. She wasn’t sure she could go through with it, but she had come this far and she hated the thought of going back with nothing to show for her plotting. This might have been a long shot, but it was her only shot—she didn’t have a next move. Besides, what would happen if she just said no? She had a horrible suspicion that no was not an option.

Lia closed her eyes for a moment. It was only clothes—she’d been topless on a beach before, she wasn’t a prude; she could do this. She slipped out of her cotton jacket and put it slowly on the chair closest to her. The pink sundress had buttons down the front, and she unbuttoned the top one. Hesitating, she peered over to where Harley Watson sat, relaxed, watching her, his eyes intent, an almost bored expression on his face. There was no sign he saw her as anything other than a commodity, and strangely it made her relax; he had naked women in front of him every day, it probably meant nothing to him. She released another button.

…



Luc studied her from the shadows, watching her expressive eyes flicker between abject terror and grim determination. From here, he could clearly see the tremble in her fingers as she unbuttoned the dress revealing the slight swell of her breasts. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra and he was amazed by the stab of desire that gripped him again. He’d felt nothing for the almost naked dancer on the stage, but a glimpse of this girl’s bare skin made his muscles clench and the heat coil tighter in his belly. This was Jimmy Brent’s daughter. How could he want her?

He forced himself to remember exactly who she was and what her father had done. It focused his mind and allowed him to concentrate on why she was here. What did she want? Harley had been right; it was obvious she wasn’t interested in a dancing job.

When the dress was open to her waist, she hesitated, and he glanced up at her face. Her eyes were focused somewhere in the distance and they were suspiciously bright. She blinked quickly. Part of him admitted that he wanted her to continue her striptease to its obvious conclusion but not here. Not like this.

“Enough,” he said softly.

Harley flicked a glance his way then turned to the girl. “Go take a seat over there.” Once she was away, he turned to Luc. “Well?”

Luc smiled sardonically. “You’re an evil bastard, Harley.”

“Impressive, wasn’t I? So what do you think? Or need I ask?”

“About what?”

Harley snorted. “Come on, you couldn’t take your eyes off the girl. Poor Mandy’s been gyrating on that stage up there, trying to get your attention ever since you walked in, and you haven’t even glanced in her direction.” He sighed. “But then you always did go for classy birds, didn’t you? What was that one you were going around with before you went inside? Sarah, Susan…?”

“Serena,” Luc said with extreme reluctance. He’d only thought himself in love once in his life, and it wasn’t a happy memory.

“Serena—that was it. Dumped you when you got in your spot of trouble, didn’t she? Looked a bit like this one. So what do you think?”

“She’s up to something.”

“Yeah, and it’s got nothing to do with dancing.” He paused for a moment. “We could always ask her.”

Luc tapped his fingers on the table as he considered the idea. “We could, but as you pointed out, she’s Brent’s daughter. Telling the truth is probably not on her current agenda. No, we’ll go with the original plan. I’ll offer her a job, keep her close, she’ll soon give away what she’s up to, and she may lead me to Brent.”

“Sounds good. But be careful. If Jimmy’s coming back, he’s going to want you out of the way. And this time he’ll make sure it’s permanent.”