Page 51 of Coerced Wife

“I’m going to meet with Dante,tesoro. I’ll pick you up later.”

“Take your time,” Tersia says. “We haven’t even started the tea party. We won’t be done before six or seven.”

Anya frowns. We’re too much in tune with one another. She senses that something is wrong. I didn’t want to worry her, but I wasn’t going to leave without telling her.

I cup her cheek with a reassuring caress before I walk from the room.

When I arrive at After Dark almost forty-five minutes later—thanks to traffic—destruction greets me. Broken bottles litter the floor, the spilled liquid lying in puddles between shards of glass. The bar shelves are empty save for a few bottles that are tipped onto their sides. Glasses are smashed to pieces on the counter. The space smells of coconut liquor and the smoky vanilla scent of whisky. The day manager stands to the side, observing the mess with his hands on his hips and his head hanging between his shoulders.

Rage rises inside me. I push it down, squeezing the manager’s shoulder in passing as I say in a level voice, “Get this cleaned up.”

He looks at me as if noticing me for the first time and nods.

I climb the stairs. Two portraits have been ripped from the wall. They lie face-down on the floor in the gallery. Tables and chairs are overturned. A few girls who were working the upstairs rooms huddle together in robes.

“Any arrests?” I ask.

“Tammy and Chucky,” the redhead says. “They were with clients.” She jerks her chin at her friends. “We were just hanging out.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

They nod, trusting me to do so because I always do what I say.

“Take the day off.” I tilt my head toward the dressing room. “Grab some clothes and get out of here. I’ll make sure you’re paid for your hours.”

They shuffle away, their gazes trained on the floor. The strippers and hookers like to work here because, up to now, we’ve had an infallible reputation. No raids. No arrests. No touching unless the girls authorize it. Whatever they earn is theirs. We don’t take a cut. It’s only fair, seeing that we profit from the business they bring in, and they bring in a lot of men who like to spend big money on drinks. Working hours are flexible and completely at their discretion. On top of that, we pay them a flat rate for the legal part of the business, which is dancing.

Luigi and Giorgio wait with Dante in the office. I grit my teeth when I spot Raphael leaning on my desk. The state of the office is no better than downstairs. Files and papers tile the floor. Both desks have been wiped clean. At least there weren’t any laptops to confiscate because we’re not stupid enough to keep any on site.

I rub a hand over my mouth, turning in a circle as I take in the chaos.

No one speaks. Dante lowers his head, watching me from under his eyelashes. Raphael smirks. Luigi sits behind the desk, looking like a dragon that’s blowing smoke from his nostrils.

I face Giorgio, who rolls an unlit cigarette between his lips.

“What the fuck happened?” I ask. “Did the local office get a new chief? And if that’s the case, how come we didn’t know about it?”

Luigi picks up a newspaper and throws it on the corner of the desk. “Justice Kearney happened.”

My spine goes stiff. I walk over and look at the newspaper. It’s folded open on the gossip columns. Fuck. Someone who was there that night ran straight to the tabloids. Now everyone knows what unfolded at the restaurant.

“Care to explain that?” Luigi asks, squinting at me through narrowed eyes.

Murderous intent boils my blood. “He’s behind the raid?”

Luigi intertwines his fingers on the desktop. “I just got confirmation from my informant. Justice Kearney called in a favor with his friends at the DEA.” He lets that sink in for a moment. “You screwed up, Sav.”

Giorgio perches on the armrest of the sofa and says around the cigarette in his mouth, “You didn’t tell us Anya is pregnant.”

No, I purposefully kept her away from them during the last few months, always ensuring we left before one of them got here in the evening or working from home when they were here during the day.

Raphael laughs. “Fuck me. Your girlfriend is pregnant with the justice’s baby.”

I turn on him. “One more word from your mouth and your head will be rolling on this floor.”

He raises his hands and shuts his mouth, his lips pulling into a mocking smile.

A muscle ticks in my jaw. “I’ll deal with it.”

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