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“Thanks for your discretion, Vinny. I’ll be in touch with instructions for the next week.”
“Anything you need during your staycation, let me know,” he assures her. “If I find any more information, I’ll let you know.”
“Is he your second? I saw him helping you with Venza’s disposal, and he was the same guy you met when you snuck out.”
“You creep,” she huffs as we move through the back hallway, passing nondescript doors. Some of them must be hosting some private parties if the moans and screams floating through the air are anything to go by. “Yeah, I guess. I haven’t been a capo long enough to really establish a second yet. When I do, it will most likely be Vinny.”
I nod, keeping my thoughts to myself. The truth of the matter is that no man aside from her father and brothers is beyond my suspicion of being her stalker. Vinny included. I send a quick text to Whit, asking him to take a deep dive into her associate for me.
We come up to a solid door that has a pink and purple neon sign on it that reads Dressing Room. It’s flanked on either side by men so large they make me look normal-sized. It’s like they both hit the same buy one, get one sale on steroids.
“Maddalena,” the bald one on the left says. The other one, with wavy blond hair and sunglasses, nods at her in acknowledgment.
“Gentleman,” she says in a terse, sharp tone of voice that makes my dick perk up. As badly as I want to break her and have her kneeling at my feet, I can’t ignore how her mafia queen voice makes me excited. Fuck.
The one on the left steps aside, giving her access to open the door.
As soon as it opens, I hear multiple excited squeals and giggles. I have the feeling this is going to be a fun time.
Maddalena
“Maddie!” Honey Trap shouts. She sashays over to us, all dressed and ready in a sparkly number for her upcoming set.
The other girls all crowd around us, giggling and asking me how I’ve been.
“Oh my god, Maddie, your outfit! I love this jacket,” Ginger coos.
“It’s good to see you, sugar,” Daliah, an older dancer, says.
I earned their respect when I came in to handle the rude clients who were harassing some of the dancers. The first time, some Wall Street wannabe was getting handsy with Honey Trap. Part of our arrangement is that she provides me with information, and I pay her tuition. When she told me JC shrugged off her concern because he was too busy to deal with it, I made it my business. No one should be able to harass our dancers and get away with it.
If you disrespect anyone in the Vettore empire, you should pay the price—whether it’s a stripper at our club, a soldier on our streets, or the Don himself.
“I know, she’s so gorgeous,” Glitter rasps, her voice husky. Her eyes drag down my body slowly. “I wish she’d stop by to watch us dance instead of always coming by for business.”
Garrix clears his throat, and all the girls look up at him, suddenly realizing he’s there. I look to see if it fucks with his ego. Not many men are used to being ignored, especially men in the life. Surprisingly, he has a playful smirk on his face as his eyes hone in on where Glitter touches my arm. Instead of finding jealousy in them, I find a scorching heat.
“Maybe we can arrange that later, but unfortunately ladies, we are here on business,” he sighs.
Murmurs break out, and some of the girls whisper to each other, while others openly eye fuck him.
“And you are?” Crystal asks, coming out from behind the changing curtain in a sweatshirt that barely comes to mid-thigh. She flutters her lashes at him.
He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his side. His thumb brushes my back. “Garrix Cameron, Maddalena’s boyfriend.”
Before I can correct him or pull away, the girls start to celebrate. Some of them clink shot glasses together, while others shout and cheer.
“Yes girl, get it!” Ginger fans herself. “What a snack.”
“You better not hurt our Maddie, she’s a fucking gem,” Honey Trap tells him, her hand on her hip.
Garrix sits down on an empty chair and pulls me into his lap. “I would never. I always take care of what’s mine. Maddie’s my fucking queen—dangerous, beautiful, smart, and a crack shot.” He caresses my cheek, running his thumb over my lip. “I can’t ask for a woman more perfect than her.”
They all simper and give him heart eyes. For fuck’s sake, he’s charming the strippers. This man is so dangerous, because I think he’s charming me too, and that absolutely cannot happen.
“We’re here on an urgent matter. Do any of you ladies have a regular client who is Russian—tall, bald guy with a beard and tattoos crawling up his neck onto his head? His name is Boris, but he may go by another name,” Garrix asks.
Most of the girls shake their heads, except one. Ginger looks away, taking a deep interest in the sequins on one of the outfits hanging off a chair. She twirls her hair around her finger, an obvious tell.
