The Billionaire's Filthy Thief

“There’s no way in hell I’m f*ck*ng a fat fifty year old man, Jeff.” Jean said, walking past Jeff and going into the small bedroom of his equally small apartment.

Jeff stormed into the bedroom behind her, holding his phone in his right hand. He stared down at Jean as she sat on the bed, arms crossed over her chest and a determined look on her face.

“You’re not thinking, Jean. This guy is stacked, he's a lawyer and works for a big firm. You probably won’t even have to do much, he’ll  be out, two rounds tops.”

“No.” Jean answered sharply, not even looking at him.

Jeff let out a loud exhale. “Look, babe. I know you don’t want to do this and trust me, I don’t want you doing it either—”

“So why can’t I stop?” Jean questioned angrily.

“Because we need the money, for f*ck’s sake!” Jeff snapped, his voice rising. It made Jean flinch and he schooled his expression into calmness. “I promise you, this is the last one.”

“You said that the last time.”

Exasperated, Jeff sat on the bed beside her and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “Do you trust me?”

Jean let out a small sigh. “Yes.” She answered, her voice quiet.

“Then I promise, this is the last time. After this, you won’t have to see anyone again.”

“Okay.”

He kissed her forehead before pulling away. “That’s my girl. Go get dressed now, you’re meeting at club vegas, by eight.”

* * * * *

Jean scanned the club once more, for the umpteenth time, and still yet, no sign of Dave. The club was nearly empty, but that was hardly surprising seeing as today was the first day of a new week.

The club’s emptiness did not bother Jean very much, she wasn’t here for her usual business after all. She knew, more than anybody, that hoping to catch some big fishes in a club like this during the week was a waste of time, you could only make it big on Friday and Saturday nights.

Jean didn’t want to be here, but Jeff had assured her that the man was rich and he would pay well. He had also said that this would be the last time, he had promised, just like he had the other fifteen times.

Not wanting to dress up for a person she would probably find repelling, Jean had put on a simple short black gown and flat sandals.

“Sup, J.” The man behind the counter said as Jane moved to the bar and took a stool.

“Good evening, Mark.” Jean answered, keeping her eyes glued to the entrance.

“The usual?” Mark asked, drawing her attention to him.

“Nope. Nothing for me.” Jean said. Getting drunk while waiting for somebody she had never met before would be unwise.

Mark looked at her for a while before turning his back on her and inspecting drinks in a cupboard.

It was always weird for Jean, coming to this particular club, ever since that unfaithful day where Mark had led her to the back of the club and had told her that he liked her and wanted to date her.

Jean had turned him down kindly and told him that she already had a boyfriend, but Mark was angry and asked if her boyfriend knew the dirty things she did at the club.

Jean had frozen at that. Of course Jeff knew what she did, he was the one who put her to it, but she couldn’t tell Mark that, it wasn’t any of his business. But the way he had condemned her made her pause and think about her life.

Mark had quickly apologized after noticing the look of hurt that crossed her face. And to show how sincerely sorry he was, she never had to pay for her drink here, it was all on him. One of the perks of this particular club, if she could overlook the awkwardness.

Jean returned her eyes to the entrance, in the hopes that fifty-eight years old Dave would walk in, apologize for being late and do what he needed to do. He was already an hour late.

“Waiting for someone?” A voice said beside Jean and she had to roll her eyes. She did not have any interest in entertaining strangers tonight.

“Your finest drink for the lady, please.” The man said, most likely talking to Mark.

Jean still kept her eyes fixed on the door. She hoped that if she ignored this man long enough he would take the hint and go, but he did no such thing as she could hear his breathing behind her.

She decided to tell him off.

“Look…” Jean’s words died on her lips as she turned to face the stranger. “My God, you’re beautiful.” She said instead.

Jean stared with her lips slightly parted at the handsome stranger who had an arrogant smile on his lips. He was undoubtedly the most goodlooking man she’d ever seen.

He wore a simple black leather jacket and black jean, his skin was a beautiful, spotless golden tan. He had the starting of a beard, and a visible moustache too. His hair was scattered and curled, and for a moment she felt the sudden impulse to run her hand through it.

On the bridge of his nose sat thin framed silver glasses. From what she could see, his eyes were blue, but that could be the light of the club on the glasses. He was a muscular type of lean, with broad shoulders, a thin long neck and long fingers that drummed on the bar counter.

Jean cleared her throat when she realized that she had been staring for too long.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” She asked, thankful that she now had a semblance of control over her mind.

“I said my