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“Not only that, but Donahue is also saying something about drugs in this club being reported.Heavydrugs in the VIP rooms.”
“He'll need another warrant for the rooms. We know Judge Malarky won't let it go through but try to see if what Donahue's saying has merit. I don't want that shit in my house. If anyone is bringing it in, I want them out.”
He sighs. “On it, but if I'm honest, you may have to cut that honeymoon short. That'sdays’ worth of footage we have to go through.”
I grunt in disapproval. “Get Sasha to start helping you, Jonathan, too.”
“Sdelayu.”Will do.
I darken my screen after hanging up and put it on the table face up. Sabrina blinks at it, then me.
“Trouble in Eden?” She asks, blowing on her spezzatino.
I contemplate not telling her, but my father's words ring in my ear - “...a queen will eradicate the vermin and snakes in her king's gardens.”
“Cops are at Eden with a search warrant. It's the third time in the past few months. A new girl there freaks out every time she sees Donahue. But the issue right now is that he's claiming report of heavy drugs in our facility, and I'll be fucking damned if there are drugs being brought, bought, and used at my establishment.”
She chews her food and swallows before spooning up more and blowing. “Do you know how many couples in the past year alone that I've helped divorce because one of them was suffering from an addictionthat started at Eden or Inferno? At least once a month. If it wasn't gambling, it was the girls. If it wasn't the girls, it was the drugs. It seems you have the beginnings of an infestation, Maksim.”
I quirk a brow in her direction before grabbing my spoon. “What do you mean?”
“If you don't allow patrons to bring in drugs and you're not providing them yourself, someoneinsideof your club is. Probably someone that flies under the radar or someone very close to you that you would just take their word for it, someone you trust maybe a little too much or maybe too little.”
I clench my spoona littletoo tight.
“Tell me, what does the money control other than gambling, sex workers and… last I heard from one of the wives, but realty and buildings? I know that's how you launder your money for your cut of what the girls at your club make, but is it drugs? It's no longer alcohol - prohibition is over.”
“You have it all right.”
“The Bratva then, Packman?”
“It's Pakhan. I'm not a werewolf.”
“Okay then,Pecan.” She smiles at me and it's like all the air has left the room, but it's such a genuine smile I can't help but chuckle at her lame attempt at a joke.
“Funny.”
“One of us has to be. You're so fucking serious all the time, I think that's the first time I've heard you laugh in all the months I've known you.”
“Less ogre?”
“Still brutish.” She retorts. “Nonetheless, your men in the Bratva - what are their jobs?”
“They're my runners. My enforcers. They do everything including run a vodka company under my mother's maiden name.” While all of that is true - we also deal with weapons… and launder money. Yes, some of it goes to charities… some of it does not. Not to mention all three of my clubs bring in well over two million quarterly each,aftereveryone gets their cut.
We kept our ways going – sex, money,power. It doesn't end. It's a tale as old as time, a profession as old as time. Keep the rich drunk, show them a good time, and well, when they leave, I have more of their moneyandsecrets in my pocket. Not to mention video evidence for extortion. But that’s neither here nor there.
Sabrina’s blonde brows shoot up as though she’s just made the connection. “SokoloVodka. That's your mother's? Sokolov was her maiden name?”
I give one solemn nod. Of course she would know the vodka - she’s a recovering alcoholic. “Everything we do is legitimate until it’s not.”
One impeccable blonde brow shoots up. “Meaning?”
I sniff and deflect. There's no way I'm going to tell her about my dungeon or the type of men I take down there for retribution. “It isn't appropriate to talk business at the table, Mrs. Giordano.”
She hums. “On the contrary, Mr. Giordano, I find it easier to brainstorm and bounce ideas off the other while my stomach is being filled. And it's Mrs. Winters. I'm not changing my last name. I worked hard to earn my degrees, not you. Your last name won't be on them. Besides, do you know how many clients I'd lose if they knew I was a Giordano?”
I blink at her, and this time I raise a brow at her, swallowing my mouthful. “Tell me.”