But that wasn’t the case. Claire could make her own money. She could reap her own success. And she was about to show her stepfather in the most humiliating way possible.
She writhed, wriggling her body down the pole, her back to it as she opened her thighs toward her adoring audience. Hoots and hollers filled the air, along with quite a few fives raining down on her like lazy leaves drifting on a warm wind. The twenties would come later when she was in their laps, grinding and shaking her pasty-covered tits in their faces. That was always where the real money was. Even if she was new, Claire knew enough to know that.
It was just her luck that she spied a man not far away from her holding up a twenty over the heads of the rest of the crowd. He waggled it enticingly and Claire grinned, crawling along the stage on her belly and biting her lip as she batted her lashes at the man slowly moving forward through the throng.
“Hey there, handsome. What’s your name?” she began, but the words died in her throat and she choked as she realized who it was.
Oh, fuck. Daddy?
“Well, hey there, princess,” he growled. The club lights made his brown eyes look red. “Or should I say Star?”
Claire swallowed hard. The men around her stepfather began to disperse, moving on to other strippers who didn’t come with quite so much baggage. She blushed fiercely as a wide pit opened up in her guts.
“Can’t you just leave me alone?!” she hissed at him, pushing herself up into a sitting position and covering her tits with her hands. “You wanted to teach me a lesson about what happens when I disobey you, right? Well, guess what? I can make my own money. I can buy my own things. I don’t need you telling me what to do. I can do just fine on my own!”
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. None,” her stepfather continued, grabbing her arm and hauling her off the stage. She yelped, but to her surprise, none of the bouncers rushed to her aid. She scowled. He must have paid them off. “You may think at nineteen you know everything, Claire, but I assure you, you are laughably mistaken.”
“What the hell were you doing in a strip club, anyway?” she sneered, trying to pull away. But his grip was too tight. His biceps flexed and she stopped, knowing it was futile. “If what I’m doing is so wrong, then why were you here watching me do it?”
Landis yanked her so close to his body that she almost collided against the firm slab of his chest. She stopped just short, looking up into his dark, smoldering eyes as he lowered his voice so that only she could hear.
“If you don’t get in the car, so help me God, I will bend you over my knee in front of everyone at this club.”
She stared at him, defiantly at first, and then as the creeping realization that he really wasn’t kidding washed over her, she slumped her shoulders.
“Fine,” she mumbled. “I’ll get my coat.”
Ten minutes later, Claire slouched in the backseat of her stepfather’s Audi, glowering out the window at the city lights. It was late, but there were still people out and about, and she could see that many of them were about her age and doing exactly what they felt like. None of them had an overprotective, psychopathic stepparent looming over their shoulders to ensure that every activity their adult child engaged in was parent-approved. They were all so free, while she was trapped with Landis, the man who wanted her to have exactly no fun at all.
She glared at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t even looking at her. He made her feel like she was some kind of prize to be won, like now that he had her, he’d put her back up on a shelf and forget about her all over again. What she wanted didn’t matter. It was all about him.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked her once he caught her staring. She pulled his peacoat tighter around herself and looked away, returning her gaze to the window once more. She didn’t want to satisfy him with an answer. No matter what she said, she knew it would be wrong.
As she clutched the material enveloping her scantily-clad body, Claire realized how in-shape her stepfather was. She was young, lithe, and curvy where it counted, and yet still the waist of his coat draped nicely over her. It was big in the arms and in the chest where her father’s broadness was more defined and his thick coils of muscle gathered and bunched. She’d seen him wear it before, knew how it complemented his powerful figure, but she had no idea how he did it. The man was in his forties, yet save for the touch of gray bleeding through at his temples, he looked not a day over thirty-five.
It was just one more thing that he used to his advantage. People liked a powerful, handsome, well-dressed man. It wasn’t until they got underneath it all that they began to have second thoughts.
Her father was harsh. He could be cruel. Claire knew in her heart that he did it because he thought he was helping her, in some twisted way, but that didn’t really make it any better. And now she couldn’t help wondering what he had in store for her as they pulled into the driveway of his gated, ostentatious house.
He pulled around to the front and stepped out, allowing one of his drivers to take his place at the wheel. Then he opened the back door and yanked Claire out, escorting her up the steps to the great double doors of his personal palace.