Page 1 of The Greek's Destruction

Chapter 1

Nina Palmer

My fingers glide across keys of my computer as I nod my head up and down to the beat vibrating through the walls of my office. It’s Friday night; I see my club, Mystique, pulling in major cash tonight. Mystique is my baby. I worked my ass off to get this club. I twerked my way through four years of college after my momma kicked me out of the house when I graduated high school and turned eighteen. Momma said she did her job as my mother; now it was time for me to take care of myself. Luckily for me, I had a few scholarships and was already planning to live in the dorms. I had three weeks before school started in the fall, so I house hopped with friends until then. Funny how months after I opened my club, the same momma that put me out came and asked for money.

I stripped at one of the top upscale strip clubs in the city, The Elite. The owner, Balthazar Kourakos, made sure the dancers and other staff were taken care of and protected. Security were quick to remove any customers who got too rowdy or touchy feely with us or the waitresses. I felt safe working there compared to some of the places the other girls described they worked at before getting hired at The Elite. Most of the clientele that frequented the establishment were businessmen who wanted to blow off some steam before going home to their wives, some used the club to try to close business deals, using the top shelf drinks and dancers to sway potential clients their way. Then there was the trust fund babies who tried to outspend each other, by buying bottles and seeing who could toss the most money at the dancers. Personally, I didn’t care as long as they kept their hands to themselves. Of course, there were the bachelor and the occasional bachelorette parties. All-in-all, I can say there was never a dull moment during my time at The Elite.

I was making money hand over fist to take care of myself, pay for my schooling, and building my savings account. The men loved my brown skin, light brown eyes, and thick curvaceous figure. I had regulars that would come in and beg to take me out on a date, but I had goals, and I’d be damned if I was going to depend on a man to take care of me like some of the dancers did at the club. I wasn’t there looking for love or to find a sponsor, what the girls like to call their men with money. I gave the men a show, made my money, and bounced. Nothing against the dancers I worked with, some of them danced to take care of their families and at the end of the day, we were all there for one reason or another.

I met my best friend, Janae Winters, there. She was a bartender and had been working there two years when I started. Being the new girl, the established dancers didn’t welcome me with open arms, but Janae took me under her wings and looked out for me. We’ve been tight ever since and when I opened Mystique, I made sure I brought her on as my club manager.

You never really saw Mr. Kourakos. Most of the time he spent up in his office that looked down onto the club, one way windows blocked your view into his office. When you did see him, he was accompanied by two other men who I learned were his little brother, Alistair, and his best friend, Xander. Mr. Kourakos was a very handsome Greek who, back then, looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was always decked out in a suit and kept himself well groomed. His dark hair was faded on the sides with the top a little longer. His beard and mustache always seemed to look like he just left the barber. Damn near all the dancers wanted a piece of him, except me. Don’t get me wrong, the man was sexy as sin, but I was there to make my money, not fuck my boss.

I do recall one incident that almost had me walking away from dancing. It was late one Saturday; the club had just closed thirty minute earlier. Most of the dancers had left already or were waiting on their rides. I was in the dressing room changing into my jogging suit and gym shoes. After grabbing my purse out of my locker, I locked it back up, then threw my purse on one shoulder and my garment bag on the other. Leaving out of the dressing room, I waved to a few of the dancers who were still hanging around talking to security. I stopped at the side exit door to get my keys out of my purse, then proceeded to leave out of the club to the back parking lot, where my car was parked. I covered my mouth as a yawn escaped me, thanking God I didn’t have to work the next day. When I was close enough to my car, I pushed the key fob unlocking the door.

“Hello, Paris!”

I jumped at the sound of Chris’ voice calling me by my stage name. He was one of my regular customers who came in every Friday and Saturday nights. He was a good tipper and asked me out often. Each time I would politely decline. Chris was at the club earlier and paid for two lap dances from me. I couldn’t fathom why he was here now.

“What are you doing here, Chris?” I asked, cautiously moving towards my car.

He took a step forward, then stopped. I maneuvered my keys in my hand so that my small tube of mace was in my grip.

“I wanted to see if you’d like to grab something to eat. Perhaps, early breakfast,” he said, taking another step.

I held up my hand, stopping him. “That’s nice Chris, but I’m going to have to decline. Plus, I’ve told you before, I don’t date the customers.”

He smirked. “But it’s not a date, just two friends having a bite to eat.”

“We’re not friends, Chris. You frequent the club where I work, that’s it. Outside of those walls, you don’t know me and I don’t know you. Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s been a long night and I’m tired. Thanks for the invite, but it’s a no.”

I continued on to my car, and as I was about to open the door, two large arms wrapped around me, locking my arms to my sides.

“I’ve always been nice to you, Paris! All I wanted was to spend some alone time with you. For all of the money you’ve gotten from me, I think you owe me this,” he roughly said with the smell of liquor and cigarettes on his breath.

I began to struggle, trying to break free while saying, “Chris, let me go! Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?”

“I’ll let you go once you agree to spend some time with me,” he replied, placing his foul mouth against my neck.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?!” I screamed as he lifted me off my feet and started walking backwards. “Put me down! Help!”

Chris’ arms tightened around me like a vice grip as I kept screaming and kicking. Suddenly, he hollered out in pain, his arms went slack causing me stumble when my feet hit the ground. “Aw, shit!”

Spinning around, I was shocked to see Mr. Kourakos, holding the butt of a gun in his hand, Alistair, and Xander standing behind a bent over Chris, who was holding the back of his bleeding head.

“Paris, are you alright,” Mr. Kourakos’ smooth deep voiced asked.

I stood there, shaking, unable to speak. What would have happened had they not come out when they did? Was Chris really going to take me against my will? Warm tears began to run down my face.

Sensing my distress, Mr. Kourakos tucked the gun in the back of his suit pants, then turned to Alistair and Xander and told them, “Keep an eye on this asshole.” They nodded as he took off his suit jacket. He slowly walked over to me, then draped it over my shoulders. He lowered his head and whispered in my ear, “Nina, I’m going to have my car service take you home, okay? You’re in no condition to drive. Give me your car keys, and I will have it dropped off.”

The keys on my keychain clinked together as I handed them over to him. “Thank you,” I murmured.

“You’re welcome. Now, go back inside so you can clean yourself up. I’ll have the driver pick you at the front of the club.”

I gave a faint smile, then looked at Chris with disgust. “What about him?”

Mr. Kourakos chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He and I are going to have a little chat about my policy of not touching the dancers.”

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