Page 5 of Dangerous Men
Tony wets his lips before he speaks. “You know, business at The Pink Panther has been going well…”
The Pink Panther? My brows furrow. It takes me a moment to recall that particular property and even longer to remember that Tony here manages it, in addition to the club we’re currently meeting in. The Pink Panther is so inconsequential it’s beneath my notice, nothing but a seedy strip club that was shut down twice for health code violations before my brothers and I purchased it.
I keep staring at Tony until he swallows hard, losing his nerve.
“And?” I ask, quirking a dark brow.
He stutters, speaking more to the tabletop than to me. “And…I was thinking maybe… maybe business would be even better if the, uh… if the girls could do more than just dance, if you know what I mean?”
Obviously, I know what he means. Tony has all the subtlety of a brick to the head.
“Like that other place you run, The Second Circle,” Tony continues, listing one of the more lucrative hotels in the Sterling empire.Myempire. “You’ve got a good operation there. I was thinking we could do something similar with the Panther, you know? Have the dancers give customers more than just lap dances in the backroom. Hire some working girls.”
“Sex workers,” I correct, drumming my fingers on the table. My patience is growing thin, and I already know where he’s going with this. He needs to get there quickly.
“Sure, sure. Sex workers.” Tony waves the term away like it doesn’t matter. “You know. Some real classy bitches.”
I wonder what Francesca would say if she heard this overgrown boy masquerading as a man calling her employeesbitches. One look from the madam who manages The Second Circle would probably be enough to make Tony wet himself.
“And who did you have in mind to manage them?” I ask, humoring him.
Tony looks confused. “Well… me, obviously.”
Obviously.
I lean over the table toward him, and he earns a few points for not visibly flinching. He does fidget, though, his hands nervously touching the papers in front of him.
“I don’t let men manage the sex workers who work for me,” I tell him, cutting right to the chase. “They do a shitty job of it, and they only think with their dicks.”
Tony opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
“You’re lucky I even let you keep running that dump you call a strip club.” I stand then, pushing my chair back and straightening the cuffs of my suit jacket. Tony’s eyes dart to the gun on my hip before I twitch my jacket over it to cover it. “Stay in your lane, Tony. And if you bring this up to me again, it won’t be me or Ashton you’ll be speaking with. It’ll be one of my other brothers.”
I watch the blood drain from his face, leaving him pale beneath his cheap facial tattoos. The businessmen of this city are right to be frightened of Ashton and me.
But they’re downright terrified of Sebastian and Viper.
“Are we done here?” I ask, buttoning my jacket. It’s not really a question, and he knows it. I amtellinghim that our business has concluded for the night.
“All good, yeah. We’re all good here,” he says, nerves betraying him as he stumbles over the words.
This is par for the course when doing business with lower-level thugs who think they’re important. Who think their ideas are worth anything at all to me. They talk a big game, with big dreams, until they realize they are woefully outmatched and outgunned.
Make them fear you. That had been the first of Dante’slessons when we’d gone to work for him.Make them fear you even more than they fear death. That’s how you take a city. That’s how you build an empire.
My eyes go back to the first floor of the club, and I feel an unexpected rush of relief when I spot her again, seated at a table with her pink-haired friend. My woman in red.
There’s still a chance to end this night right.
As I watch, though, two of Tony’s peons approach, sliding into the open chairs at their table. It’s obvious even at this distance that the women aren’t interested, but Tony’s men seem to have trouble taking the hint. She shifts away, distancing herself, but one of them keeps encroaching on her, moving into her personal space.
He moves closer to talk to her, and as he does, his hand hovers over her drink for a heartbeat too long. Then, with a practiced flick of his fingers while she’s distracted, he slips something inside.
“You’ve got to befuckingkidding me,” I snarl.
That bastard is trying to drug someone. In my club. Inmyfucking club.
I storm away from the table, leaving a confused and sputtering Tony in my wake. Fury drives me down the stairs to the first floor, straight through the crowd, muscling people aside.
