CHAPTER 2: Marry me, Tiffany

It was shortly after noon, yet the pounding headache from three sleepless nights pressed heavily on Zac Cornell.

The twenty-six-year-old heir sat at his neatly organized desk, staring blankly at the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The silence was disrupted by an unexpected ring from his phone. It was Martini—an old business associate his late father had trusted.

“Hey, Martini, what’s up?” Zac answered, trying to mask the exhaustion in his voice.

“Zac, I need you at The Red Room tonight. I’ve managed to sway the investors for Project Rainbow. Are you game?”

“The Red Room… a strip club?” His frown deepened in disbelief. “You know that’s not my style, Martini.”

“I know, but this is the only chance we’ve got with Suarez and Lorenzo,” Martini said, his voice firm. “We need to move this project forward.”

“Can’t we find a more conventional setting?” Zac rubbed his temples, frustration mounting.

“I know it’s not ideal for you.” Martini’s tone softened but remained resolute. “But now’s our chance.”

Partnering with his late father’s colleagues would give him an edge over his uncle. If this was what it took, then he was all in.

“What time are we meeting?”

“Ten o’clock works,” Martini confirmed.

Zac ended the call, staring at the phone screen for a brief moment before returning to his incomplete tasks.

*******

Hours later, the door swung open, and his closest friend, Angelo, walked in with his usual smile.

“Hey, Zac! You know working overtime won’t change Grandpa’s mind about the chairmanship,” he raised an eyebrow, observing Zac’s disheveled appearance.

“It’s not about making an impression on him; it’s about gaining control,” Zac responded, tilting his head slightly to lock eyes with Angelo.

“Well, your eye bags say otherwise. Why not let your uncle handle the position until next year?”

“Hold on, Angelo. Which side are you on again?” Zac snapped.

“Yours, obviously. But if you want to act fast, marry Bella and get it over with.”

“You know me, Angelo… I’m not interested in Bella. Yet he thinks arranging a marriage will make me back off from the chairmanship?”

“But your father signed that agreement, Zac,” Angelo answered, scratching his head.

“My father would never stoop that low, and I’ll prove it.”

“So… are you ready to leave now? It’s late,” Angelo sighed, changing the subject.

“Yeah, but I need you to pick up some files at my condo and meet me in Manhattan. Catch!” Zac tossed him a key.

“No way, Zac. It’s high time you hired a personal assistant. I have my own company to run, remember?”

“Come on, what are friends for?” Zac smiled, even as the burden of his duties weighed down on him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With a reluctant sigh, Angelo agreed, and the duo exited the building.

****************************

The meeting had been a success, but Zac remained seated in one of the VIP booths. The flashing lights, the loud music, and the chaos of the club felt irritating—until Martini approached.

“Congratulations, Zac. Lorenzo’s already gone?”

“Not really. He—” Zac’s words caught in his throat as his attention turned to an enticing figure covered in a sequined bodysuit on the stage.

She swayed with assured elegance, a flawless stance, and a touch of rebellion in her twirling.

***

“Tiffany,” a hefty man called, addressing Mia from behind.

She turned to see one of the club’s floor managers standing with his arms crossed.

“Grab your things. Lorenzo wants you in his suite right now.”

“Okay,” she smirked, popping her bubble gum as she released the stripper pole.

She stole a glance at the VIP booths, her eyes sweeping past usual power players—old money, new money, men with excessive influence and little integrity. But then her eyes settled on someone unfamiliar.

A handsome young man in a black suit sat in a booth with the club owner. His fingers tapped gently on his glass, yet his focus was directed at her.

Mia’s breath hitched slightly.

Why was he staring at her like that?

There was something unique about him. He wasn’t like the others, who stared at her openly, with no attempt to hide their intentions.

His expression was neutral, yet, for a second, she thought she saw something else. Was it recognition? Or interest?

“Whatever,” she muttered, averting her gaze as she turned on her heel and walked toward the dressing room.

********

“Who’s that girl?” Zac asked, swallowing hard.

“Oh, her? That’s Tiffany. Quite the enigma, isn’t she?” Martini replied.

Zac didn’t answer. His thoughts continually looped back to how her eyes had shifted in his direction, how she stared back at him for too long before walking away.

He shook his head, dismissing the ridiculous idea creeping into his thoughts.

He had come for business, not distractions. Or should he have his men contact her after the show?

“Zac, Zac, are you good?” Martini asked.

“Yeah, in fact… I need to get going,” Zac said, glancing at his watch.

“Give me a second, please.” Martini held up a hand.

But as soon as Martini made the call to confirm whether Mia was ready to be sent to Lorenzo, something inside him snapped.

A sudden wave of tension rushed through him like a time bomb. It felt like something was being taken from him—something that should have been his.

“Martini, I want a private session with Tiffany,” he blurted out.

“Did I hear you correctly, Zac? Or are my ears playing tricks on me?” Martini’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Absolutely.” Zac nodded.

“See, the thing is, Lorenzo is already expecting her. But hey, if you really want to have a good time, I can get you someone more exotic,” Martini proposed.

“No,” Zac retorted. “I want her.”

“Zac, I understand, but this isn’t a business transaction. You’re making a personal request,” Martini pointed out.

“And I own this land, Martini. If I want this place gone by tomorrow, it will. Now, do we have a deal?”

Martini stiffened, his face faltering. “Alright, I’ll do what you ask.”

Zac downed the last of his drink, tossing the cup aside.

“Dammit,” Martini muttered, adjusting his tie as Zac made his exit.

********

A short drive later, Zac stood at the entrance to his suite, momentarily taken aback as his eyes settled on the beautiful woman by the window.

The warm lights bathed her shimmering dress, casting a glow that danced across the walls. Her back was bare, highlighting her slim waist and curvy figure.

A mix of admiration and curiosity welled up in his chest, yet he maintained his composure as he walked toward her with measured steps.

“Hello, Tiffany,” he said gently, clearing his throat.

She barely reacted, but her expression showed her disappointment. Her eyes darted restlessly, hoping someone else would emerge from behind his shadows but no one else came.

Her breath hitched.

She had expected Lorenzo and not this man.

She wondered if she was sent to the wrong room. But no—this was exactly where the manager had told her to go. Then what the hell was going on?

“Are you alright?” Concern crept into Zac’s voice.

Her gaze finally settled on him, and beneath the pink wig and tacky makeup, he caught a glimpse of something raw—innocence.

“Rest assured, you’re in a safe space.” He stepped closer, narrowing the distance.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, crossing her arms, but Zac caught a shift in her boldness as she stepped backward.

“You don’t look excited to see me.” Zac slipped off his jacket, causing her to step back further until her back hit against the wall.

“You’re not Lorenzo… This must be a mistake.” She frowned, fumbling for the exit. “I’m sorry… I can’t stay here.”

Does she not realize who I am? Zac thought. Many women would kill for a chance to be with him—why Lorenzo? Does she prefer older men?

“Slow down, beautiful.” He extended his hand to her waist, drawing her closer. “You don’t seem to belong here.”

“Neither do you.” She grabbed his neck with sudden strength, making him lose his grip. “I prefer to work with hyperactive men.”

Why is she so fierce? I like her. Zac thought.

“Well, that makes two of us,” he smirked, gently removing her hands off his neck.

“I don’t have time for this, Mister,” she muttered. “I have other clients waiting.”

“Then I’ll pay triple what you charge,” Zac said with an urgent tone.

“Sorry, I’m not interested.” She scoffed, stepping toward the door.

What else would convince a mere stripper to stay? Zac wondered.

She was already at the door. But he couldn’t let her go like that. He needed to unravel the mystery behind this obsession before his emotions got the better of him.

“Marry me, Tiffany.”

The words came out smoothly—certain, as if they had been waiting for the right moment to surface.