Page 96 of Coerced Queen

He crosses his beefy arms.“Now, that’s the biggest fear of every restaurant and bar that were ever granted a license.”

Yes, nothing is worse than losing a liquor license, because losing it means going out of business.

“You don’t have to worry about After Dark, Lady Luck,” Roy continues.“We know how to keep our noses clean.Our bouncers and bartenders were trained on how to protect our license, which is the number one priority of all the staff members on the floor.”

“But say we were to lose it, what would lead to such a decision?”

Livy rests her elbows on the bar, her blue eyes lighting up with interest.

Roy takes a wide stance.“Serving minors, disorderly conduct, over-serving guests, untrained staff members, and not following the liquor laws for sure.”

I ponder that.It’s pretty much what I figured.

“Does that mean I need training?”Livy asks.

Roy shoots her a smile.“Don’t worry, Liv.You’re serving our lunch hour clients.It never gets out of hand during the daytime, and the guest list is controlled, so it’s quiet.Anyways, the bouncers will throw out any troublemakers before they have time to actually cause damage.”

“She’s got a point,” I say.“How does she become a qualified bartender?”

“She’s got to do a SmartServe program and get a bartending license.It’s easy enough doing it as an on-premises serving course.”

“Arrange it.”I nod at Livy.“Rather safe than sorry.”

“Yes, ma’am, Lady Luck.”Roy salutes me.“Anything else?”

“I want you to hire a few men to cause trouble at Obsidian—get into bar brawls and disrupt the peace, that kind of thing.Make sure they cause enough havoc inside and outside to make the neighborhoodveryunhappy.”

Understanding widens his eyes.“You want them to lose their license.”

“Brilliant,” Livy mumbles, an evil smile curving her lips.

“I know a few guys who, for the right money, won’t mind spending a night in a holding cell.”He scratches his jaw.“If it comes to that of course.The cops on our beat will probably let them off the hook with a warning.”

“Good.”I straighten.“Make sure they keep their mouths shut.We don’t want anyone to know they were paid to make trouble.”

“Sure thing, Lady Luck.”

“I’m not Lady Luck.”

“Yes, you are,” Dante says, coming toward us with a grin that splits his face.“Sorry, Lady Luck.I’m afraid it’s too late to undo it.Once a person has earned a mobster name, it sticks.”

“I’m not a—” I was going to say mobster, but I’m as knee-deep in this business as anyone else here.“Ugh.”Turning back toward the office, I say, “Forget it.”

“It’s an honor,” he calls after me.

I don’t reply.I’m still upset with him for going behind my back to tell my husband I brought in money instead of giving me a chance to do so myself.

“Anya,” he says, running to catch up with me.

Ignoring him, I make my way up the stairs, but he cuts me off on the gallery.

Sighing, I stop.“What is it, Dante?”

“You’re angry with me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“You know I had to do it.”

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