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“Do the girls regularly take side jobs?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Franky let out a long breath. “Vincent never saw a problem with it.”

“How not?” I grumbled. It was quite possible my husband took a lover here. Not that he would likely have success impregnating one. The images of him bent over his desk in the back office were vivid. I let them torment my mind for a few more seconds before I slammed that trail of thought closed.

“It kept everyone happy, and the family took a cut,” Franky said simply.

While I might not formally be in charge yet, this idiocy needed an immediate stop. We couldn’t have the law cracking down on us, infiltrating the shambles of the empire, before I even had a chance to wrestle control.

I rose from the bar and purposefully strode to the dancer. Franky’s chuckles followed me like thunder.

“Ginger, can I have a word?” My smile was anything but friendly.

The leggy redhead looked me up and down. “I’m working.”

“Yep, and I’m the boss.”

The words felt right, even if they weren’t technically true.

She snorted, patted the trucker on the cheek, and tripped after me.

The plan to throttle her was cut short by the fact that I didn’t have the key to the office. In the hall, I stopped short, hating the lack of privacy.

“We don’t do that here,” I said, cutting straight to the point.

Ginger’s look was full of condescension. “Marco said it was fine. Vinny never had a problem with it either.”

The way her tongue curled over my late husband’s name had me seeing red. He definitely sampled the goods.

It was a miracle I never caught anything from him sleeping around.

“Marco doesn’t technically own this place. I do.” It was a teeny, tiny legal loophole. One that I would use to do whatever was necessary.

Ginger’s brown eyes widened. “You’ve never been here before.”

Thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock.“That has little relevance to the current situation.”

The big words stumped her.

“Get on stage. Dance. Take your clothes off. But don’t touch the guests,” I ordered her.

“I have to when they pay for lap dances,” she sneered.

This time, my smile was all teeth. “You’re on probation. No more lap dances until I say so.”

The dancer exploded, acrylic claws coming out in full force. “That’s where the good tips come from!”

“Should have thought of that before you endangered this place by propositioning the guests.” I took a step forward. “Now go dance.”

Ginger stood her ground, sizing me up. If Franky hadn’t chosen that moment to shift closer, she might have struck.

Santa Caterina! Why couldn’t I have grown five inches taller?!

I wasn’t a threat. Not bodily.

But my mind was already spinning with the possibility of striking this woman where it hurt. One anonymous phone call to the law, and I could have the cops lock her up.

Of course, if she squealed, we could all be thrown under the bus. I resolved to bide my time, and when I came into power,I would send her to California. It would take a phone call to a supplier, a cut in some profits…but it was possible. Meanwhile, Ginger would see it as a promotion, and I would make her someone else’s problem.