Protection Money From the Wrong Man, Your Don

Summary

This bottle girl, new to the club, always demanded I serve her. And only me.

She was good for business, so I let it slide.

Then, one weekend, two in the morning. I’m in bed in the penthouse. She calls, barking orders at me.

“I’m in the ‘Paradise’ suite. Get up here with a bottle and get me right.”

I almost laughed. The girl was an idiot.

“It’s 2 AM. Are you ordering me around? I’m not your bodyguard or your dealer.”

She sneered, her voice dripping with arrogance.

“My cousin is the club manager. You should feel honored to serve me. By the way, your ‘protection fee’ is late this month.