Surrogate for the Billionaire Mafia

MAEVE The last octave of my song rattled the chandeliers in the ceiling of the club, earning whistles and yells of approval from my audience. The audience was mostly made up of all types of moral deficit, violent, and mentally unstable rich men. Most of whom were doing sketchy and criminal business in the cover of the shadows. The only women among them were either held against their will, or sex workers slithering between tables to earn their next paycheck. Of course, there was the occasional lady with dark makeup and fur coats who ran her own dealings and was as vicious as any of the men, but that was a rare sight in this shady world the club catered to. Here, we ladies were considered nothing but eye candy. As a lawyer, my thoughts on that are obvious, but as long as they're getting my bills paid, I couldn't care less. The music ended, and cheers followed. I stood straight, with a derisive curl of my lips, soaking in their praise. In 7-inch heels, on the raised platfo

MAEVE “Watch it, you damn bitch!” “Oh, put a damn sock in it, granny!” I spat back at the middle-aged man honking his car at me after I cut past him in my hurry. Sure, I had taken a risk, but the old fart had no idea what was at stake here. Not that I expected him to. He was probably experiencing a midlife crisis. Moments later, I swerved into a particularly tight parking space in the garage, throwing all caution to the wind. It was close to noon at this point, despite me practically jumping into the shower and throwing some clothes on at breakneck speed. Taking one precious second to check my reflection in the rearview mirror, I adjusted my wavy sandy-brown hair styled into a french bob. I had no time to conceal the shadows under my bright green eyes, so I looked exactly like my situation. A mess. I ran out of the car and towards the elevator, only to find out that it was out of service. “Shit.” I turned towards the stairs instead. “Ivanov!” My supervisor boo