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That did it. The room erupted with laughter.
One dancer called out, “Baby, I’ll make you something yummy for dinner tonight!” which set off another round of giggles and catcalls.
Madelaine laughed, too, though she tried to cover it with a cough as Paulo clamped a firm hand around her elbow, then tugged her out of their dressing room.
She wasn’t going to give in, at least not completely. Over her shoulder, she called out, “Ladies, I’ll get you a name and number for a labor lawyer!”
Paulo didn’t slow down. In fact, he picked up the pace, rushing her through the grimy club, past the smirking doorman, and straight into the sunlight. He didn’t stop until he literally lifted her into the backseat of the SUV, then climbed in behind her.
The SUV was already moving when he finally spoke.
“I cannot believe you were trying to unionize the strippers,” he muttered darkly.
From the rearview mirror, Madelaine saw the driver’s eyes flick upward before snapping back to the road, his shoulders suspiciously tight, like a man who was desperately trying not to laugh.
“They’re doing a job. A service. Just because it’s a female dominated industry doesn’t mean they don’t deserve the same protections as every other worker in the country,” she shot back.
“They’re strippers!” he snapped.
“So?” she demanded, eyes flashing. “That doesn’t give anyone the right to steal their tips or treat them like garbage.”
He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “What the hell are you talking about? Who is stealing their tips?”
“The club owner,” she replied, her voice sharp with indignation. “The guy doesn’t pay them an hourly wage and he takes more than half of their tips every night.”
There was a beat of silence.
Paulo finally asked, very carefully, “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she replied, nodding emphatically. “The ladies in that establishment are treated abominably. They need to unionize. It’s the only way they’ll ever get decent working conditions.”
He rubbed his forehead like a man fighting off a migraine. Then he exhaled slowly, like his patience was about to snap. “I’ll make sure their rights are protected.”
Madelaine crossed her arms and shot him a doubtful look. “How can you do that? You already said you don’t own the place. That was the whole point of picking that pub, right? My father wouldn’t suspect it was a trap because it’s not tied to you?”
“I own the pub through a series of shell companies,” he admitted. His jaw flexed as he turned to her, eyes narrowing. “But… Madelaine, I control this city. I can make a phone call and Bartkowski will change his employment policies.”
She blinked, then gave him a long, incredulous look. “Really? One phone call?”
“Yes.”
Her lips twitched. “So, what you’re saying is… you’re like Batman. Only scarier. And without the cape.”
His sigh was heavy enough to rattle the SUV. “It seems you are the only person in this city who has no clue how much power I wield.”
Madelaine leaned back against the seat, tilting her head at him, her expression a little smug. “Well, then maybe instead of me unionizing the strippers, you can just add stripper rights advocate to your resumé. Think of the headlines: Mafia Kingpin Saves Exotic Dancers from Exploitation.”
The driver coughed violently into his fist, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
Paulo’s glare could have incinerated both of them.
Chapter 36
Ronan stared wide-eyed at the television screen, his glass of whiskey frozen halfway to his mouth.
“What the hell?” he muttered, leaning forward as the news anchor explained that a funeral would be held on Friday. For him. She prattled on about security being tight because he was a renowned criminal, then began listing his “crimes.”
Some of which were accurate. But the list was insultingly short. Almost laughably tame compared to what he’d actually done.
