Immoral
Genre:
Release Date: July 24, 2025
He was sent in to seduce a monster. He didn’t expect to fall for the man beneath.
Benoit Olivier has always played the part—charming, cunning, and impossible to pin down. As one of the Park Avenue Kings, he’s used to being the watcher, the flirt, the wild card. But when the Kings need eyes on a powerful new arms dealer with a dangerous reputation, Benoit steps out of the shadows and into the spotlight—as a performer in Dimitri Stavros’s exclusive world.
Dimitri is lethal, calculating, and entirely unprepared for the distraction Benoit presents. Drawn to the dancer’s allure, he offers him a place at his side, unaware that every flirtation, every glance, is a calculated move in a game Benoit was sent to win.
But the deeper Benoit is pulled into Dimitri’s world of wealth, weapons, and whispered threats, the more dangerous the assignment becomes. Because Dimitri doesn’t forgive betrayal—and if he discovers Benoit’s true purpose, it won’t just be hearts that shatter.
Now, with time running out and his feelings blurring the line between performance and reality, Benoit must make a choice: complete the mission… or protect the man he was never supposed to love.
Alternate Cover
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Read the first two chapters of Immoral (Park Avenue Kings #3) now!
These chapters are unedited and subject to change but we hope you enjoy!
Copyright © 2025 by Brooke Blaine and Ella Frank
1
Benoit
SEDUCTION WAS A dangerous game. Show your hand too early and you risked giving the object of your desire the upper hand. Come off too strong and you might lose them altogether.
No way in hell was I allowing either of those two things to happen tonight. I had to play this just right, which was why I had been chosen for this particular mission.
After all, there wasn’t much I did better than seducing a man.
I slipped on the final piece of my ensemble, a heavy gold brocade robe that gleamed under the light of my dressing quarters. The back collar rose up above the top of my head, fanning out like I was a regal queen—which, accurate.
The latest burlesque dancer to take the stage walked back into the room wearing a sequined thong and sweat on his brow. He did a double take when he saw me and let out a curse in Arabic.
I smirked. “I know. But if you think the outside’s glorious, just wait until you get a glimpse of what’s underneath.”
He replied, but I could only translate enough to get the gist of what he said. Something along the lines of “sex walking,” which I took to mean as sex on legs—quite a compliment from a fellow performer who could just as easily deem me as competition. Any other night he would’ve turned my head too. It was unfortunate I had to keep it on straight for now. Both heads.
I stepped in front of the full-length mirror, checking to make sure I was a feast for the eyes. The gold-flecked gloss that adorned my lips had them plumped up and extra juicy, and the brown kohl liner around my eyes added to the dramatic flair. It wasn’t enough to get the attention of my target tonight—I had to make him desperate with need.
“Benoit.” The stage manager gestured for me to follow her, and off we went, through the curved hallway that ran the perimeter of the tallest building in Dubai. We were so high up, the only glimpses I caught of the outside were dark sky and moonlight. “Nervous?” she asked, giving me a smile over her shoulder as if that would help ease any butterflies.
It’d been years since I’d performed burlesque on a stage, something I did for fun in my twenties, but there was nothing but confidence radiating through my body. I’d always enjoyed putting on a show, having all eyes on me. What was there to be nervous about?
The way she was watching me, waiting for an answer, had me smiling back at her and lying through my teeth. “Oui,” I said.
She stopped in front of the backstage door and pulled it open for me. “It’ll pass,” she said, and inclined her head for me to go inside. It was pitch black except for a lit pathway along the floor that I followed carefully, not wanting to catch my four-inch heels on anything hiding in the dark.
I took my cue, center stage, back to the audience—can’t give too much away—then waited for the music to begin.
The slow, sultry rhythm started, and as the beat of the drum hit, a spotlight lit me up like an exquisite jewel. A priceless gem that none of the men in the audience tonight could resist—which was the plan, of course.
I was there to garner attention. To lure in hungry eyes. I was the bait, and right now, I was up here setting the trap—a delicious honey trap that was going to be sticky once my target was secured, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
I’d been in tricky situations before. This one would be no different.
I glanced over my shoulder, searching the crowd, then began to seduce the audience. I swayed my hips to the provocative music and slinked across the stage, the cape swirling around my bare legs as I flirted my way through my routine.
A wink here, a smile there, as one glove, then two, was removed. I tossed them out to the crowd, letting them fall where they may, then continued to peruse the greedy onlookers for the man I was really there for.
He wouldn’t be up front, not a man like him. So I needed to be looking toward the back. He wanted eyes on his performers—after all, this was his establishment—so he’d be sure to stay away from prying eyes. Stay in the shadows. That was where he did his best work. But that wasn’t going to do tonight. I needed to draw him out, and as I moved up to the center of the stage again, my eyes caught on a tall figure in the back.
Dimitri Stavros.
His name alone was enough to make most men run in the opposite direction. But my goal tonight was to capture and keep his attention, and to do that, I needed to get much closer than this.
With my target in sight, I reached for the gold clasp of my robe and unfastened it, and as the heavy garment cascaded to the floor like a rippling waterfall, I was left in the high, fanned collar, a black, gem-covered corset laced at my trim waist, and a matching G-string that showed off my spectacular ass.
My heels showcased my long legs in ways that would make any supermodel jealous, and what I could do in them made everybody jealous.
It was a lethal combination, which worked well for this particular man, since that’s what he was, and when I executed a perfect flip off the stage and landed square on said heels, my eyes collided with his.
Gotcha.
Not about to roll over and make this easy for him, I started flirting my way through the crowd—fingers through hair, coy smiles offering more than I was giving, whispers of sweet nothings as patrons tried to get friendly and I flitted just out of reach.
It was all about the tease, and I was the master of that. The social chameleon who could slide into any scenario and charm anyone, and who could especially fit into this moment.
My eyes tracked back to the man in all black—the one moving when I did to make sure he always had a clear line of sight on me.
Time to give him a little personal one-on-one.
I slinked through the tables until I reached his, and then immediately turned my back on Dimitri Stavros, something no one in their right mind would do. Arching forward, I grabbed hold of my ankles and shook my sweet ass, giving him a view he couldn’t resist.
That was the hope, anyway, but just in case…
I straightened and spun around, and sure enough, those dark eyes weren’t looking anywhere but right at me.
I’d seen photos of Dimitri, but being in his orbit slapped me in the face in a way I hadn’t expected. Of course I knew the man was attractive, even with the scar that marred his cheek, so that wasn’t a surprise.
What was surprising was the intensity of the power and magnetism radiating off him. It scorched my skin and left me breathless as we locked eyes. There was hunger in his gaze, yes, but also a confidence that would’ve rattled anyone, and had I not been prepared to seduce, I might’ve lost my footing.
In one swift move, I lifted my foot onto the table, slamming the heel into the wood and shaking the glasses. Dimitri didn’t flinch as his eyes traveled down my body. Taking advantage of his attention, I unfastened the corset and tossed it into his lap, and a thrill ran through me at the way he lifted it to his nose. He took a deep inhale, his eyes meeting mine again until I moved my hips in a way that had his gaze dropping to my covered—and getting harder—cock.
If I happened to bust out of it, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.
Leaving Dimitri wanting was the plan, so as much as I found myself enjoying this little one-on-one, I dropped my leg and continued moving about the room, back toward the stage, shaking my ass in a way that incited whistles and catcalls.
For a brief moment, I wondered why I’d stopped performing all those years ago, until I remembered that being a man of leisure suited me more. That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the hell out of this rare moment in time.
I sashayed back onto the stage, made a big show of bending over to retrieve my cape, then draped it around my shoulders. I glanced back at Dimitri, and as I reached beneath the luxurious material and removed the final garment, I twirled the G-string around my finger, winked at him, then flicked it off to the side of the stage as the lights went dark.
A roar of applause filled the immediate silence, and though I couldn’t see the crowd, I could feel Dimitri’s gaze on me as I strutted off the stage.
The manager was waiting in the wings, a smile stretched wide across her lips as she nodded. “I have a feeling they’ll be fighting for a seat the next time you’re on stage.”
“Well then, très chère, my job here is done.”
She hurried ahead of me, rattling off something in Arabic as we made our way back to the dressing rooms, where a flurry of activity was taking place—garments, makeup, wigs, and heels flying everywhere as the next performer brushed by me and headed toward the manager.
I almost wished them luck, because they were going to need it following after me. But then I remembered the reason I was there and decided to keep my well wishes to myself. I needed Dimitri’s focus to remain on me, so maybe I’d work on manifesting an electrical issue with the lights instead.
As the dressing room emptied out and the chaos died down, I slipped into my silk robe and settled into a makeup chair, where I pulled out my phone and brought up a new text.
Fish is on the hook
I hit send.
2
Dimitri
“WE HAVE TO move quickly if we want to—”
I held my hand up, cutting off Caesar’s words as the performer who’d just given me a private show took to the stage again to wrap things up.
Whoever he was, he was mesmerizing. Even though the club offered up some of the most beautiful, talented dancers for patrons to admire, it wasn’t often that one caught my attention.
The man bent down to grab hold of his cape, giving one last look at his perfect, plump ass before it was covered up. Then he turned around, locked eyes with me, and began to spin his G-string around his finger.
I hadn’t even seen him take it off, the sly minx.
Like he knew, he shot me a wink and tossed the G-string off the stage, and the room went pitch black.
All around me erupted cheers from thoroughly entertained club guests, but I sat there in stillness until the lights came back up.
“Like I was saying, I think we need to—” Caesar started again, but I cut him off with a glance and gestured to one of my bodyguards nearby.
“Get it.” Without a word, he headed off, and I turned back to Caesar. “Go ahead.”
My treasurer leaned across the table. “We need to wrap these deals up before another arms dealer comes sniffing around our territories. I think you need to get on the road sooner than later to meet with—”
“I don’t recall paying you to think strategy. You just worry about the money when I bring it back to you,” I said, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring another finger into my glass. I took a sip and settled back into the leather lounge chair.
Caesar’s face fell and he looked to Omar, my second-in-command. “But there are rumblings that the Redwater Syndicate is trying to push back against his leadership.”
The bodyguard returned to my side and handed me the dancer’s discarded G-string, and I fingered the gem-covered material before slipping it into my pants pocket.
“He’s not your boss,” I snapped, and Caesar’s face flushed under the lights from the next performer. “I am. And if someone has a problem with my leadership, let them say it to my face.”
Caesar’s eyes shifted to the jagged slash running up the left side of my cheek, and the message was loud and clear: Want to end up like the last person who doubted my ability to steer this ship? He may have landed a blow, but I was the one who’d ended up at the fucking helm.
“Of course.” Caesar swallowed. “I didn’t mean anything by—”
“Stop talking,” I said, and turned my attention to Omar. “Is everything set up for next week?”
“It is. The gala is next Friday; you fly out Saturday. All prospective buyers have agreed to a face-to-face, and I’ll send word of time and location upon our arrival.”
“Good.” I leaned back in my seat and ran a finger around the rim of my glass, running over everything I needed to get squared away between now and next week. There were a lot of variables when one was about to broker a deal, or several deals, as large as I was about to, and I needed to make sure everything was in order.
Including my fucking men.
“It’s important we secure these deals,” I said. “Establish that I’m still the top supplier in the market. I’m not about to be run out because some wannabe crew thinks they’re about to encroach on my business.”
“Understood.” Omar looked to Caesar and gestured for him to get up. “If I get a hint that anyone is talking shit, they’ll be dealt with—”
“By me,” I added, and Omar nodded.
It was clear that the only way I was going to gain respect from my men was to stand up and fight for the position I claimed I deserved. Plus, what self-respecting leader would send someone else to do their dirty work?
“Right.” Omar shoved Caesar through the tables, about to leave. But then he stopped and asked, “Anything else you needed tonight, boss?”
I looked to the stage and had a flash of supple skin, sparkling gems, and a flirty wink, and was close to requesting that a certain dancer be brought to my room. But I had too much to do tonight, and shook my head. “No. I’ll be leaving soon enough.”
Omar and Caesar exited the club, leaving me to my drinks and dancers, while my bodyguards stood off to the side, watching over the patrons.
I always thought it was an interesting dichotomy, for the biggest underground arms dealer in the world to require bodyguards to keep himself alive. Then again, it was nice having a set of eyes at the back and sides of my head, since many would like to put a bullet through it.
One of the downsides of the new position I now found myself in. Maybe if my predecessor had been less sure of his own invincibility, he might still be alive today.
No. That was a lie. He would’ve died no matter how many people stood in my way.
I pulled my phone from my inside jacket pocket and looked at the time. It was closing in on one a.m. and while I enjoyed a late night out, I hadn’t been sleeping much the past week.
Despite what I’d told my men, I was well aware that there were people talking about the new head of the organization, and how I’d come to power. It’d been bound to happen. After decades of rule under one man, you weren’t going to win everyone over just by telling them you were in charge. They were going to need proof that you were capable of not only supplying the goods they were after, but of keeping in line the kind of clientele who dealt in the darker shadows.
I knew I could do it; I was more than capable. Now I just had to prove it.
I took another swallow of whiskey and refocused my attention on the stage for the few minutes of pleasure I’d allow myself tonight. But the dancer currently making eyes at the crowd didn’t make my cock stir, not the way the dark-headed one with the sultry mouth had. He’d been a surprise, one I hadn’t seen in the club before. The scrap of material he’d been wearing burned a hole through my pocket, and the ties on the corset he’d left behind made my hands itch to touch, but I wouldn’t let temptation override my plans. I hadn’t gotten this far by letting my dick take charge.
A familiar face entered my periphery, and I nodded, allowing the club manager to slide by the bodyguards and approach.
The forced but polite smile and the edge of fear in his eyes told me just how uncomfortable he was in my presence, like he expected me to lash out at any moment, the way my predecessor had.
Not my style.
“Everything is to your liking this evening, I trust?”
I threw back the rest of my whiskey, my eyes drifting back to the stage. “And if I say no?”
I could feel his instant panic and couldn’t help but smirk.
“Relax. All is well.”
He didn’t seem to heed the message, remaining tense and on alert. “Can I bring you another bottle?” he said, gesturing to the empty one on the table.
“No.”
Drumming my fingers along the arm of the chair, I waited as the next performer took the stage, but when the man’s hood came down, it wasn’t the one I was hoping to see again.
The manager must’ve heard my sigh, because he cleared his throat. “Are you…satisfied with the dancers this evening?”
Lights reflected off the performer’s dark, oiled-down skin as he lowered into a split and ripped off his skirt. “They’re fine,” I said.
“Perhaps there’s one who caught your eye that could entertain you? Or two? Three? However many you’d like.”
I turned to the manager and cocked my head. “There is something I would like.”
“Of course. Anything.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the G-string and held it up with the tip of my finger. “The one who wore this. I want him at my gala next week.”
He hesitantly reached for the thong, but I balled it in my fist and shoved it back in my pocket.
“Uh, I’m not sure which of the dancers that belonged to—”
“The new guy.”
“Benoit?”
“Have him at my place.”
“Consider it done.” He lowered his head in a bow that I didn’t acknowledge as I continued mindlessly watching the show.
Tonight wouldn’t be the night to indulge in my baser desires, no. But I was used to biding my time, waiting for the right moment, the right person, the right opportunity. This would be no different.
Friday, Benoit would be mine.
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