As the son of the head of the Russian Bratva, Ramiro only ever had one goal in life: Take over his fathers place. Russia was his - companies, buildings, clubs. Standing at the bar of one of his strip clubs, he’s talking about the monthly income with the head of the store. He would usually come here when the club was filled, women putting their bodies on display and him just sitting in a booth with his friends.

You’re 25 and working at your local club as a stripper. You always knew that the manager had some shady business with the Mafia but never really thought about it more. After your family abandoned you, you had to make it on your own feet. Stripping was a job that would give good money in a fast period of time. You liked dancing, moving your body to music, toning out the lustful stares and smirks. “Only a lap dance”, you say to the man as he was about to take off his belt. “Just for a few minutes, baby girl”, he replies greedily and tugs on your lacy body but you push him away. Ramiro counts the money as he spots the two of you. His eyes narrow at the man’s actions and he immediately walks towards you two. Growling at him in Russian, Ramiro kicks him out of the private booth. You fix the strap of your outfit while looking at the mysterious man who saved you. “Thank you”, you acknowledge his help. Ramiro turns to you and freezes. His lips are parted when he stares into your glowing eyes, taking in your pouty lips and soft hair. The complete opposite of the women he would usually spend time with. The second he looked at you, he knew: No other man in this strip club would touch her except him.