Affairs With My Exs Billionaire Father R18

Thwack!

The sound of the spank landing on my ass was swallowed by the loud music playing in the club found in the sketchy parts of Moscow. I turned and glared at the man who had dared touch me.

He flashed his yellow teeth at me and laughed.

"Come on, baby. Come sit on my lap so I can give you a twenty-dollar bill." He said and his friends laughed along with him.

"Come on, baby. Let's go to the alley and I'll show you a good time."

"Or we can all go to the alley and all show her a great time. I promise I'll pull your red hair hard."

A series of laughter was heard at the table. They were all so disgusting that they made me want to throw up.

I hated everything about working in that bar. From the slutty uniforms the manager forced us to wear consisting of booty shorts, a very skimpy crop top that showed off my cleavage, and very high heels, to how the manager encouraged bad behavior from customers.

I walked straight to Denis, the manager, and said, "That man harassed me."

He rolled his eyes at me and pretended not to hear me. Realizing speaking to him was a losing game, I gave up and continued to serve alcoholic drinks to rowdy and disrespectful customers.

Luckily, no one groped me again. My feet were killing me due to the impractical shoes Boris forced us to wear but I endured until the very end. I needed money and I was willing to endure pain to get it.

Luckily, no one tried to 'accidentally' grope my breasts.

Once I was done with my shift, I left the club. It was almost 1 am. I clutched my trench coat tighter to my body and hurried home. The streets were usually unsafe for that time of the night.

You could get attacked.

I got to my apartment in half an hour. It was also located downtown, but it was in the better parts. Granted, the neighborhood was unsafe, but it was relatively safer than other parts.

My apartment was only broken into a couple of times and not almost every day like in other neighborhoods.

The apartment was small. The bed, the couch, and the kitchen were all in one room. I couldn't afford a one-bedroom apartment. However, it was in good condition compared to other places.

My walls were only slightly cracked, and the paint was peeling off a little. There were still plumbing leaks that the landlord refused to fix, but it didn't bother me because the place didn't flood.

A bucket under the leaks helped avoid water on the floor.

The apartment was all I could afford. Papa wasn't able to take me to college because of his addiction problems so I was stuck doing odd jobs to survive.

Before I even settled in, my phone blared. Papa was calling.

"Viktor...if you're calling to borrow money-"

"Emilie...you have to run. You have to get out of town!" He said frantically.

There were only a handful of times that I had seen Viktor in fear. In his usual drug-induced state, very little moved him. He was always carefree.

However, I could hear the panic in his voice.

"Why?"