Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin! Chapter 220: Ladies in Disguise

Dum! Dum! Dum! Dum!

The sound of bass and tunes, phonk mixed with jazz filled the air. Music.

It pounded like a heartbeat through the night. Deep and throbbing, rolled through the streets of Los Alverez.

Neon lights pulsed in rhythmic sync atop the roof of Velvet Echo, casting devilish pinks and purples across passing cars.

To the ordinary eye, it looked like another luxury gentlen's club. But for the right people... on the right nights, it was far more than that.

This was an exclusive kingdom of velvet shadows, dim-lit deals, and masks worn in more ways than one.

Outside, the alley behind the club buzzed with tension. The tal back door clanged open, and a short, round man stomped out in a stained magenta vest and leopard print pants. His gold chain glinted under the dull outdoor lights, sweat dotting his wide forehead. He was balding, his hair scraped into a desperate ponytail that refused to retire.

"Where the hell are my new girls?!" he barked into the humid night, his voice grinding with annoyance. He glanced down at his diamond-encrusted watch. "Our VIP is almost here and he always wants fresh picks tonight. Young, slender girls. Beautiful. Very beautiful. So where the hell are they?!"

The guards around looked at each other with no answers to give. Whole passersby hurried along, glancing at the chubby, short man.

Then, a rumble filled the night air.

The man spun his neck to the left. "Is that them?!"

From the far end of the alley, headlights washed over the loading dock as a shiny black party bus rolled in. The engine purred low before hissing to a stop.

"Co on! Co on! Move it! Open the damn door!"

The driver jumped down, a big hunk man with a mustache, and pulled the door open with a chanical whoosh.

Four won stepped down in sequence.

Their feet, covered in high heels, hit the ground in clicks as they stepped down from the vehicle while the man watched.

Each wore a style of dance wear so sultry it could lt glass. Their bodies were rely covered by sleek leather straps, satin-edged lace, thigh-high heels with more shine than sanity.

Their faces were obscured by custom-designed masquerade masks. All four had the kind of poised elegance that couldn't be faked. Their bodies were slim, tender and yes... the curves.

They were present in the right places. Full breasts, thin waist, feminine thighs. Their posture were like catwalk queens, and their eyes glead even behind the fabric and feathers of their masks.

The first wore a raven-black corset bikini, with a gothic lace collar wrapped tight around her throat. Her dark brown hair fell over her left eye, curling softly against her cheek. She seed colder for so reason.

Next ca a blood colored redhead with twin pigtails, her outfit bright red with glittering heart motifs. She wore a faux whip on her belt and gave the pimp a cheeky wink.

Third was a honey-bronzed brunette woman in deep violet, her hair styled in benign bangs, her toned body glistening with body oil. She had beautiful legs that were stretched forever in fishnet stockings.

Last was a caral-skinned bombshell with icy blue eyes and short blonde hair. She was wearing an all-white ensemble trimd with sheer sh. She appeared a bit more nervous than the other three.

The pimp sized them up with growing satisfaction, licking his lips.

"Ohoho," he chuckled, hands on his gut. "Now that's what I'm talking about. Face ti, ladies. Masks off."

There was a pause. The won looked at each other, hesitant.

The pimp frowned. "The fuck? Didn't you just hear what I said? Take off those masks, dammit!"

One by one, the won removed their masks.

He scanned their faces — grinning at the red haired and the nervous blonde, smirking at the one in violet— until his gaze paused hard on the raven-dressed one with the single eye exposed.

"You... Haven't I've seen you sowhere before," he muttered, squinting.

A silent best dropped.

The pimp noticed the girl stiffening, while the others glanced in her direction as if worried.

"You one of Tyler's regulars or sothin'? It's supposed to be new girls, not club regulars."

She said nothing, rely gave a soft shake of her head.

The red haired leaned forward, voice syrupy. "Maybe you have, sir. She's popular, but has never been in this club. She goes by the na... Dark Lotus. You must have seen her in the magazines."

The pimp raised a brow, letting the na roll off his tongue. "Dark Lotus, huh? Exotic. I like that. She does have a nice... curvy, slender... Eyyy! No. You're for the boss!"

He gave them a wide grin, yellow teeth glinting. "You four are up tonight for our VIP. Not just any VIP. He's the VIP of all VIPs so consider yourself lucky. You'll be taken to Private Floor. He'll be picking his favorite personally. You get him excited... you get bonuses. Capisce?"

The four won nodded silently, sharing quick, unreadable glances.

He pointed toward the back hallway with a thick gold ringed finger. "Dressing room's that way. Let's not keep the man waiting."

They followed the dim corridor into a lavish back area, where velvet walls hugged the narrow passage and perfu lingered in the air like whispers.

Inside the private prep room, the door clicked shut. The lighting softened.

Finally, the girls were alone.

In one swift movent, the masks of performance fell.

The woman known as Dark Lotus turned to the others and tugged her hair behind her ear. Rachel.

"We're in," she said, all business.

The blonde collapsed to a chair and sighed. Lila, while the red haired flung the heels of her feet.

"God, my feet are already screaming," she muttered. "Remind why we didn't just burn down his server room instead?"

Lila was picking her nails. "Because arson is still technically frowned upon in civilized society."

Alia, the calm one in white, sat elegantly on the makeup bench and crossed her legs. "Let's go over it again. No mistakes."

Rachel nodded. She looked down at the tiny cara tucked in the thread between her cleavage. "Are you listening, Sandy?"

Back in the bus, inside the trunk, Sandy sat by a computer, the glow on her face as she crunched down a Pringle. "I'm listening."

Then, Rachel went through the plan one more ti.

"And if he doesn't talk?" Alia asked after she finished.

"He's going to," Rachel said. "If not, Lila would make him talk."

"What?! Why does it have to be ?"

Rachel shrugged. "The bastard likes you."

"No no. That's not a complint. At all."

"Will that be like a seduced confession? Hah! That's a new one," Kara murmured. "Can we na this operation?"

"Why the hell do we have to na this operation?"

"You know? Like Boss? He nas stuff. He even nad the operation when we saved Grant Hayes. So what do you guys think? I vote for Operation Strip & Snitch."

"Can you not?" Alia said, deadpan. "It's already unhinged."

Just then, a knock banged on the door. "Ey, ladies! Showti! Let's get moving!"

Rachel tucked the plan back into her clutch and rose. She pulled on her mask again.

"Showti it is."

One by one, the won donned their masks and adjusted their outfits. They moved as a unit now— four dangerous, beautiful phantoms stepping into a lion's den.

The pimp stood waiting by a double-door laced in silver, nodding them forward.

The music swelled.

And the ladies in disguise headed for a particularly grand-looking door.