Lie (Betrothed 8)

“You guys know I’m a capitalist. Entrepreneur. And sometimes a thief.” My chair was at the top of the platform, so I could see everybody easily even if I were sitting down. “I found a better way to make money. I found a way to increase our profits by at least 50%.”

The men started to clank their mugs against the table, their voices growing loud with excitement because something new was happening. Someone randomly shouted, “What is it?”

I continued. “One of our clients turned over his monthly royalties, and I was impressed by the amount. He’s a pimp, and he’s making a killing in Rome and now Florence. I’ve decided to do the same.”

“Good. The girls are back!” Someone spoke from the corner of his table. He held up his mug and clinked it against his neighbor’s.

“Fewer girls, actually.” I arrived at the hard part, the difficult conclusion. “Increase the demand for a limited product, and you increase the price per unit. Trafficking will be outlawed in this country, and brothels will replace it. With the lower inventory of women, we’ll charge ten times the amount.”

That was when the men fell quiet, like they didn’t agree with his new business venture at all. Vox looked exactly the same, but the murderous intent in his gaze showed how much he disagreed with my new vision.

“We start with Petrov’s crew tomorrow. Consider it a remodel.”

Questions started to fire off. “What do we do with the girls?”

“Offer them a job. A high-paying job. They won’t be able to resist.” Ash told me his girls were paid half the total profit, allowing them to live a lavish lifestyle that made being a whore worth it.

“And if they say no?”

I stared at the disappointed faces of my men. They wouldn’t openly revolt against me, because disobedience was punished by death. But once I turned my back, they would whisper to each other, talk about the sudden changes in our organization. Hopefully they trusted me, and when they saw the money, they would forget about this. Hopefully this wouldn’t grow into a bigger problem, resentment spewing into anarchy. “We let them go.”

I took the stairs down to the basement, arriving at four in the morning, completely unexpected. I went in alone, only my pistol in the back of my jeans. When I reached the table in the center of the room, Petrov sat there smoking a cigar, scrolling through his phone even though the internet must have been spotty way down here. “Why are you here?” He put his phone down then put his feet up on the other chair.

Instead of looking at him, I looked through the bars at the women either sleeping on their hay beds or leaning up against the opposite wall with wide eyes. I’d been down there so many times, but I’d never honestly cared about the women who were stuck there. “We need to talk.” I sat in the chair across from him.

“I thought you would come back after what happened with Popov.” He picked up the cigar and took a deep inhale before he released the smoke. Then he rolled a cigar across the table toward me, offering me one.

“No.” I wouldn’t pay for his death. Definitely wouldn’t apologize for it. “I’ve decided to outlaw trafficking in this country.” I wasn’t the prime minister or any other government official, but I could do anything I wanted. This was the first item on my agenda. “That means you’re going to turn this place into a brothel. The women who want to stay get paid. And they have the freedom to come and go as they please.”

He left the cigar in his mouth without taking a breath. After his momentary shock, the smoke slowly drifted to the ceiling. Once he’d gathered his bearings, he pulled the cigar out of his mouth and smashed it into the ashtray. “Don’t tell me this is all because of that stupid girl?”

“We can make a lot more money this way.”

“More?” he said incredulously, his Russian accent growing thicker the more distressed he became. “There’s no way we’ll make more by abandoning this plan. None of the girls will stay. We’ll have to let them go. We’ll lose international buyers…”

“I don’t care.” In order to make this work, I had to put my foot down and hope it was enough. “With fewer women in our inventory, it’ll drive up the asking price for every man who walks in here. You can make a lot more money doing it that way instead of selling these girls for a few bucks.”

Petrov looked like he was debating whether he was going to kill me or not.

“I’m not taking your business away. I’m simply changing it. Improving it.”

“You’re improving shit, and you know it.”

I pulled the gun out of the back of my jeans and set it on the table. I didn’t even aim it at him, because the gesture seemed to be enough. “I’ve come prepared, Petrov. Whether you cooperate or not, the outcome will be the same.” I grabbed the gun and clicked off the safety. “So, you have to decide. Do you want to be alive or dead?”