"No." I shook my head. "Stay out of my way. I don't want you to miss out on your money. I got her."
"Bitch, if she touch you—" Ronnie's nostrils flared, lips set in a hard line.
"She won't get the chance," I replied.
"Bet."
We got out and went in. I had calmed down enough to keep my composure to not alert security. The hostess who always liked me let me know Madam was in her office. I strolled down the hallway knocking softly.
"Come in," Madam called out.
Opening the door, I stepped in. Madam took off her glasses and sat up straighter with a small smile. "Well look at what the wind blew in," she greeted me pleasantly. "Hello again, Gianna."
I didn't reply. Just closed the door. "Did you know?" I asked walking closer.
Madam's brow arched, the smile dropping from her face. "Did I knowwhat?" she replied that edge leaking out on the last word.
"About Boss. About his criminal history. Did you know?" I stood in front of her desk.
She tilted her head slightly. "Is there as reason for this conversation, Gianna? I would appreciate a more direct approach."
“You want direct—fine." I stared hard at her. "That muthafucka is the reason I left Siren House. He showed up at a restaurant I was at and started hollering my name like a fucking maniac when I walked away from him.”
Madam looked genuinely stunned as I continued.
“I don't have proof, but I know he's been following me. Someone picked the lock on our apartment and stole all my fucking panties. Then today—at the police station somebody left flowers on my car.” My voice cracked with anger and disbelief. “This nigga is stalking me, Madam. And you knowingly had a man in here with a criminal history and didn’t tell me.” Hurt bled into my words. “I thought you were supposed to protect us?”
Madam exhaled slowly. “Gianna…why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“Because I figured once I left it wouldn’t matter anymore,” I huffed.
“I told you girls if anything ever made you uncomfortable to come to me.” Her tone softened slightly. Standing up shewalked around the desk to stand in front of me. "Sit. Please." She touched my arm.
Reluctantly I did, leg bouncing up and down in agitation.
“Yes. I knew about his history,” she admitted evenly. I opened my mouth instantly, but she raised her hand. “Before you jump down my throat—fifteen years ago he was a teenager. There's nothing else on his record since then. No violent offenses. No sex crimes. Nothing that would've automatically barred him from being a client here.”
“Has he been here?” I asked tightly.
“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “Two days ago. He booked Monroe.”
This nigga was insane. Still fucking Monroe and stalking me in his free time.
“Had I known any of this beforehand—especiallyafter the restaurant incident—I would've removed him immediately,” Madam continued. “This is exactly why I tell you girls to communicate with me.”
My phone vibrated in my jeans.
Bestie: Just saw her go into Suite 1.
I didn’t even hesitate. "Madam, I gotta go."
