Page 90 of Ivory Tower

“Yes, I was. You hired me to manage your damn club. So that’s what I was doing.”

“Let’s not play games, now. We all know the girls take care of themselves, and Marco covers the men. What is it you do after all?” I ask, looking to my lap and smiling at the wet spot on my navy-blue dress pants. I move that smile over to Lilah, who is blushing. No one can see the wet spot from where I sit at the desk, but she knows.

“Fuck off, Dante.”

“And if you’re so great at handling my club, where were you last night when a man put his hands on our Delilah here?”

“What, I—"

“In fact, it was me that saw it happen on the cameras, who walked out into the crowd and broke the fucker’s wrist, I believe. Is that right, Marco?” I look over to my second-in-command, and he nods stoically.

“Yes, sir,” he says, and it takes everything in me not to laugh at Marco calling me sir instead of fuckwad or something similar. But when we need to put on the show, he knows how things go. Even Lilah’s eyes widen a bit at Marco subservient words.

“So, where were you?” I say, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t answer, stewing in his anger. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me. Remember, Paulie, there are cameras everywhere keeping track of what the fuck you’re doing. I have access to those cameras at all times. Fucking Olivia behind the building isn’t doing what I fuckin’ pay you to do.”

His face goes red.

“But hey, from what I could tell, you didn’t think it would take long anyway, so—"

“What the fuck, Dante?!” he shouts, that rage tipping.

Most won’t notice because it’s what he’s trained for, but from the corner of my eye, Marco very smoothly angles his body to shield Lilah, the hand that was already on his hip moving back to where he keeps his weapon.

“I gave you self-explanatory instructions, did I not?” I ask, my voice moving to anger. “I moved Lilah from the stage—"

“That was bullshi—"

“And to the floor for a fuckin' reason,” I say, cutting him off. Making Lilah come on my leg eased some of my frustration, but it’s creeping in just with the vision of my nephew in front of me, not even to mention how he’s trying to defend himself. “And the instruction I gave was that if you could not keep her—the daughter of a fucking mayor who you coerced into working here—safe . . .” Lilah flinches with the words, but I continue on. “. . . then I would find other employment for her to pay off any remaining debts, correct?”

“Yes, but—"

“No but. I’m finding new employment for her.” Paulie tries to open his mouth, to speak, but I ignore him. “Delilah, from today on, you’ll no longer be a server. You’ll be my new personal assistant, attending mostly to the girls at the club and any other tasks I require of you in the day to day.” I stare at her, running a hand over my polished desk. I hope she understands that other tasks will most definitely include taking my cock bent over this very desk. I’m tired of her cunt only being available to me when I sneak into her apartment in the middle of the night.

The apartment has had around-the-clock surveillance when she’s home for weeks because the place is an assault waiting to happen.

But that won’t matter.

“Your things will be moved from your current apartment to a room in the Carluccio compound. Working closely with the family requires added security measures,” I say, and all I can think about is her staying under my roof indefinitely.

Finally.

Lilah’s eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open, but I don’t have time to hear what kind of argument she’ll pose because my bratty nephew is already arguing.

“What the fuck!? Dante, no fucking way. You don’t have a right—"

“The fuck I don’t,” I say, cutting him off calmly.

“I hired her. She’s working for me.”

“You might help run this place, but never forget who fucking owns it. Everything in this building? I own. Everyone in this building? I fucking own them. You’ll do well to remember that.”

“What about my pl—"

“Marco, take Lilah out. Show her where we keep the stuff for the girls' back room so she can keep it stocked,” I say of the snacks and toiletries we keep for the dancers and servers. “She can also make sure Martha is still keeping up on cleaning back there.” Men are not allowed into the break room for the girls at Jerzy Girls. It’s my one rule in a place of utter debauchery. There are also no cameras back there for the same reason.

“Dante—I mean, Mr. Carlucc—" Lilah corrects, blushing at the use of my name.

“Call me Dante, Delilah,” I say with a smile. “We’ll do dinner tonight to talk about the role, your pay, and expectations, yes?” My eyes lock to hers, telling her that this is not optional, to listen to me for once in her goddamned life and agree.

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