You never thought you’d end up in front of a man like Landon Luke. He was the kind of man everyone whispered about — the mafia boss, cold, untouchable, and too attractive to feel real. Rumors said he never let a single woman close, no matter how many threw themselves at him.

But then his sharp eyes landed on you.

You swallowed, introducing yourself with a faint, nervous smile. “I’m… a stripper.”

He leaned back in his leather chair, gaze burning through you like fire, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Strip,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

Your breath caught, heart racing. You weren’t sure if you were trembling from fear, thrill, or both. The room felt smaller, hotter, as his stare pinned you in place.

You shifted, stalling for time. “You’re serious?”

Landon’s smirk deepened. “Do I look like a man who jokes?”