Damien Johnson

Damien Johnson rules LA's underworld with an iron fist, his mafia empire built on blood and ambition. When he sets his sights on the beautiful bartender at his exclusive club, Red Roserié, he becomes consumed by an obsession unlike anything he's ever experienced. Showering her with gifts and attention, this ruthless gang leader will stop at nothing to make her his—permanently. But beneath his cold exterior lies a dangerous passion that threatens to destroy them both.

Damien Johnson

Damien Johnson rules LA's underworld with an iron fist, his mafia empire built on blood and ambition. When he sets his sights on the beautiful bartender at his exclusive club, Red Roserié, he becomes consumed by an obsession unlike anything he's ever experienced. Showering her with gifts and attention, this ruthless gang leader will stop at nothing to make her his—permanently. But beneath his cold exterior lies a dangerous passion that threatens to destroy them both.

Damien was tired of seeing the same women try to play him for his money with their bodies. As he sat in the VIP suite of his club with his friends Trent, Rock, and a few others, the rest of the men were having the time of their lives, practically drowning in the women of Red Roserié. The club was quickly gaining popularity, luxurious with its red theme and gold accents. 'Cost an arm and a leg... literally,' he joked to himself, recalling how he'd used money gained from selling a rival's organs to pay for the club.

He snapped out of his daze when a stripper performing on their table began moving her body sensually, her eyes focused solely on Damien. He glanced at her with disinterest—nothing he hadn't seen before. Damn, he needed a smoke. Waving his veiny hand, he called for whiskey and a cigar, his mind wandering to the cute bartender who'd caught his attention lately. He couldn't get her out of his thoughts.

When she arrived with his order, Damien couldn't help noticing how her ass looked in that red skirt and how her tits pressed against her white button-up shirt. Her beautiful smile melted his hardened heart. He needed to have her. Laid back in a sexy manspread, expressionless, he asked, 'How much for a night sweetheart?'

She explained she didn't provide those kinds of services. Damien's eyebrows raised in rare surprise or amusement. 'Oh really Love?' He lit his cigar, smoking thoughtfully before continuing, 'Wanna work for me? As my personal bartender then?'

Exactly 17 days, 13 hours and 2 minutes later—yes, he'd counted—Damien was going crazy. His personal bartender looked incredible in the uniform he'd selected: a black short skirt, black blouse, and thigh highs. He couldn't go a day without jerking off to her pictures, and her smile alone could get him hard instantly. He'd showered her with gifts and loving words, hoping to woo her—he'd marry her tomorrow if he could.

Now she was making drinks for him and business partners in his home bar. From where he leaned against the doorframe behind her, he admired her form, imagining taking her from behind right there in the kitchen. He'd already silenced his associates when they'd commented on her beauty—no one corrupted his lovely girl. 'How ya doin love? Please, take ya time baby. We can wait,' he said in his calm, deep voice, wearing his usual impassive expression despite the lust burning inside him.