Dancer in Lingerie (Lingerie 13)

She was smart to be scared.

Despite Ronan’s objections, I took The Butcher’s money and gave him a membership to the casino. He fit in with everyone else, but he also stuck out like a sore thumb. He was loud, obnoxious, and unpredictable, and it was easy to tell if he was in the casino at any given time.

I walked around the floor, seeing all the men playing at the poker tables while the girls danced on their poles and in cages at random spots throughout the floor. Music played overhead, smoke from cigars rose to the ceiling, and there was so much testosterone in one place, it seemed like it might explode.

I wore one of my best suits, watching my kingdom as I ruled from my perch. Cameras were everywhere, along with security guards. Unlike other casinos, all the security teams wore guns, while the patrons weren’t allowed to bring weapons at all.

Ronan came to my side, dressed in a black suit and matching tie. “I’ve gotten nothing but complaints about him.”

“What kind of complaints?” I stared down at all the tables from the balcony, watching the men wear their best poker faces.

“The dancers tell me he gropes them every chance he gets.”

“That’s not unusual.”

“Tried to rape one of them in the bathroom.”

Alright…that was a little too far. “Give him a warning. He has two more. Otherwise, he’ll be banned from the casino.” I couldn’t throw him into the ring unless he actually stole from the casino.

“Some of the best girls already quit.” Ronan didn’t hide his annoyance. He hated the decision I made and would look for any reason to prove I’d made the wrong call.

“Tell them it won’t happen again and offer them a raise.”

He shook his head slightly. “The only reason why we have the best girls is because they feel safe here. If we fuck that up, we’ll be stuck with the hags.”

“Which is why you need to assure them it won’t happen again.”

“Then you need to warn The Butcher. He doesn’t listen to me.” He pivoted his body toward me, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “It’ll be better coming from you.”

“Alright.” I pulled a cigar out of my pocket and lit it. Smoke drifted to the ceiling, and I took a drag on the end, bringing the smoke into my lungs. I let everything out through my nose and mouth at the same time. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” He relaxed now that the conversation was over. “What’s new with you?” Whenever we finished talking about business, we had our personal relationship, the same kind of relationship all brothers had.

“Nothing.” I didn’t tell him about Carmen because I wasn’t sure what to say. It was the first time I’d been obsessed with pussy, and I didn’t know what that meant. I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to keep her as a pet or adore her as a woman. “You?”

“Saw flowers at Mother’s grave. I’m guessing that was you.”

“Yes.” I went to her grave pretty often, not just on her birthday and the anniversary of her death. My mother had been the biggest role model in my life. She’d taught me how to be a man, raised me to be strong, smart, and intuitive. She didn’t take shit from anybody, and she never refrained from giving me the beating of a lifetime if I deserved it. Carmen’s fiery attitude reminded me of my mother’s spirit sometimes. Perhaps that was the real reason why I helped her in that alleyway…and I’d been obsessed with her ever since. “What’s new with you?”

“I’ve been fucking Giada.”

Giada was one of the dancers on the floor. Ronan seemed to rotate through the girls. Whenever we had new women working for us, he made his move and screwed them for a while before he moved on to the next one. “Pretty girl.”

“Yeah. She’s flexible.”

I chuckled before I took another drag. “Well, dancers tend to be.” I usually mentioned the women I was fucking to Ronan, but only because we were family. We didn’t exchange other personal information, like our thoughts, stresses, and feelings. We’d never been that way. But we could talk about sex…because we both liked sex.

Ronan placed his hand on my shoulder before he walked away. “I’ll bring The Butcher to your office. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I inhaled from the cigar again. “But I’m not gonna need it.”

The Butcher was a large man, built like a brick shithouse the way Bones was. He had an extra twenty pounds of muscle on his frame than I did, but that didn’t make him intimidating. As my brother described it, his unpredictability was the worst part of his character.

My fortune was based on reading people, guessing their next move before they made it. Interacting with a man like The Butcher wasn’t my forte, not when his thoughts were locked away behind a ten-foot gate.