Page 27 of Cannon (King Family Saga #3)

Queen

I swept into the dressing room like a hurricane in six-inch Louboutins, my presence immediately commanding every dancer’s attention. The chatter died as I stood in the center, letting my gaze travel across each face, measuring, assessing. These girls needed to understand what was at stake tonight.

“Listen up, ladies,” I announced, my voice cutting through the lingering whispers. “Tonight isn’t just another night at Sylk Road. Tonight could change your whole fucking life.”

I paused, letting that sink in while I smoothed down my form-fitting dress. The room was electric with anticipation.

“We’ve got the BET Awards show afterparty crowd coming through, plus that charity gala for the mayor’s foundation letting out two blocks away.

You know what that means?” I didn’t wait for an answer.

“Every baller worth his bank account will be in this building tonight. Rappers, politicians, CEOs, hedge fund managers, athletes—men who drop twenty grand like it’s pocket change. ”

Jupiter shifted in her seat, already mentally counting money. Miss Kitty was applying another coat of glitter to her chest, while Champagne leaned forward, hanging on my every word.

“This is the kind of night that could retire one or two of you,” I continued, pacing slowly between the vanities. “The kind of night that separates the professionals from the amateurs.”

I stopped behind Diamond, placing my hands on her shoulders as I met her eyes in the mirror.

“Diamond, fix those lashes, baby. The left one’s hanging on for dear life. And when you dance, remember what I told you, slow it down. Make them wait for it. These rich motherfuckas don’t want a girl rushing through her routine like she’s got somewhere better to be.”

She nodded quickly, already reaching for her lash glue. I moved on to Cinnamon, who was adjusting her G-string.

“Cinnamon, your bikini line needs some touching up. Tweeze that monkey or go home. I already told you about that hair. And for God’s sake, fix your weave in the back. You’re giving struggle ponytail, and we don’t do struggle at Sylk Road.”

I didn’t wait to see if my words stung. These girls needed tough love, and I was the only one who would give it to them straight.

“Miss Kitty, enough with the glitter. You look like you fell into a kindergarten art project. Tone it down, focus on your moves. Your technique is what’ll keep them throwing money, not turning yourself into a disco ball.”

Approaching Champagne, I narrowed my eyes at her outfit choice. “That bodysuit is cutting into your thighs like a tourniquet. Change it now. I want you looking expensive, not desperate.”

Champagne’s eyes flashed with defiance, but she knew better than to challenge me. Not tonight. Not when I was in this mood.

“Jupiter,” I said, softening my tone slightly. “You’re my ace. Show these new girls how it’s done tonight.”

Jupiter smiled, nodding with the confidence of a veteran who knew her worth. “Always do, Queen. I told you I was ready to retire this year anyway. I’m so close to my goal of saving up for my spa, tonight might be the night,” she laughed.

“I hope so. You’ve always had that boss bitch energy,” I replied.

Jupiter had been one of my top earners for the last five years, but I could tell she was ready for something different.

The late nights, the constant grind of using her body to make money—it was wearing on her.

And she had a son at home, almost in middle school now.

She didn’t want him growing up embarrassed, carrying the weight of what she did to provide for him.

She had goals, though, and I respected that.

Jupiter already finished massage and esthetician school, and she was working toward opening her own spa.

She had a plan, and she was following through.

That’s what I loved to see: women graduating from this life on their own terms. The money in this business comes quick, but it doesn’t last forever.

And I’d rather see them leave standing tall than fall trying to hold on too long.

I turned to address the whole room again, placing my hands on my hips. “Remember, these men came here looking for fantasy, not reality. They want perfection. They want magic. And that’s exactly what we’re going to give them.”

I pulled out my phone, checking the time. “Doors open in twenty minutes. The VIP section is already booked solid, and I’ve got Cannon and the boys on high alert. Security’s tight tonight, no phones on the floor, no bullshit in the champagne rooms.”

Walking toward the door, I paused for one final look at my girls. “Make me proud tonight. Make yourselves rich. And remember…” I snapped my fingers for emphasis, “no touching unless they’re paying for it.”

As I stepped out, I heard the renewed buzz of excitement behind me. Good. They needed that fire, that hunger. A night like tonight came maybe twice a year, and I wasn’t about to let any of them waste it.

Once I had left the dressing room, I realized I’d left my phone charger in the car. With the night ahead, I couldn’t risk my battery dying. There were too many VIPs to manage, too many potential fires to put out.

“Shit,” I muttered, checking my phone’s battery. Fifteen percent wouldn’t get me through the next hour, let alone the whole night.

I headed toward the back exit, my heels clicking against the concrete floors.

The cool night air hit my face as I pushed through the door, and that’s when I saw it, a gleaming black Bentley taking up two spaces in my staff parking area.

Chrome wheels that probably cost more than most people’s rent, custom paint job so shiny you could check your makeup in it.

And there was Smoke, stepping out cockily, adjusting the cuffs of his silk shirt under that ridiculous mink coat. In summer. In New York. The man was a walking billboard for poor financial decisions.

“Queen Marie,” he called out, flashing those gold-capped teeth. “Just the woman I was looking for.”

I suppressed an eye roll. “I’m busy, Smoke. We open in fifteen.”

“Too busy for your best customer?” He approached, that heavy cologne of his hitting me before he did. Up close, I could see the new diamonds in his ears, probably another twenty grand he didn’t need to spend.

“I need to grab something from my car,” I said, trying to move past him, but he stepped in my way.

“Listen, I got my boys coming through tonight. VIP section.”

I fixed him with a hard stare. “Your boys need to lay low tonight. No selling, no sampling, nothing. The place is gonna be crawling with celebrities, security, and yes, probably cops too.”

His smile faded. “My people paid good money for those tables.”

“And they can drink and enjoy the show like everybody else. But this is not the night to move product in my club. Too hot.”

“My business is my business,” he said, voice dropping low. “You get paid regardless.”

“Not if I lose my liquor license or get shut down because your dumbass crew can’t be discreet.” I stood my ground, even as he stepped closer. “Not tonight, Smoke. I mean it.”

He studied me for a long moment, then surprisingly, his smile returned. “Fine. We’ll behave. I been getting what I need anyway.”

I knew that his boys were making a grip running drugs through my club and I hated it. “You looking good tonight, Queen. Real good.”

I jerked away, slapping his hand down. “Don’t touch me.”

A strange heat flushed through me, shame, disgust, and something else. Like I’d betrayed Cannon somehow, which was ridiculous. We’d fucked once. He didn’t own me. Still, the feeling lingered.

Smoke’s smile twisted into something predatory as he moved closer, forcing me to take a step back until I felt the wall against my shoulders.

“I got plans for us, Queen. Big plans.” His cologne was suffocating now, expensive but too heavy. “I’m expanding into Brooklyn. Need to open a Sylk Road there. Upscale, just like this one.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Another club? I don’t have time…”

“It ain’t about time,” he cut me off. “It’s about washing my cash. Dirty money in, clean money out. The club’s perfect for it.”

The reality of what he was suggesting hit me like ice water. “No,” I said firmly. “Absolutely not. I built this business legit. I’m not risking everything I’ve worked for to launder money for you.”

Smoke’s expression hardened, his smile vanishing like it had never existed. He moved closer, his massive frame blocking the dim light from the parking lot.

“I wasn’t asking, Queen,” he said, voice dropping to a dangerous rumble. “Brooklyn needs a Sylk Road, and you’re gonna open it. My money, your management. Simple business.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my face neutral. “I said no. Find someone else to launder your dirty money.”

His hand shot out, grabbing my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You don’t seem to understand the situation. This ain’t a negotiation. This is me telling you what’s gonna happen.”

I jerked my face away, slapping his hand down. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

“I still love how feisty you are. But we’ll discuss the details next week. No is not acceptable in this regard,” he said as he turned away.

Irritated, I walked back into the club.

I stormed back into the club, my blood still boiling from Smoke’s ultimatum.

Who the fuck did he think he was? I’d built Sylk Road from nothing, clawed my way up with my own two hands.

Now this wannabe kingpin thought he could just waltz in and force me to launder his dirty money?

It was bad enough he had his minions in here pushing coke but opening up another club with the sole purpose of laundering cash? That wasn’t going to happen.

I was so lost in my anger that I nearly collided with Cannon as I rounded the corner. His large frame blocked my path, those aqua eyes instantly narrowing as they scanned my face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through my thoughts.

“Nothing,” I snapped, trying to move past him. “We open in ten minutes. I need to check the bar stock.”

His hand caught my elbow, gentle but firm. “Queen.”

Just my name, but the way he said it, like he could see straight through my bullshit, made me pause.

“Not now,” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching us. “I’ve got a club to run.”

Without warning, Cannon steered me down the hallway, his large hand pressed against the small of my back. Before I could protest, he’d pushed open the door to the private bathroom near the bar and pulled me inside, locking the door behind us.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, though my voice lacked its usual bite.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “And don’t lie to me again.”

The bathroom suddenly felt too small with him in it, all that raw masculine energy crowding me against the sink. I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“It’s just… a lot tonight,” I said, the half-truth slipping out easier than I expected. “Big crowd, VIPs everywhere. I heard there was a shooting at Club Essence in Queens last weekend. Three people dead.” I shook my head, forcing concern into my voice. “I just hope everything goes smooth here.”

Cannon’s eyes never left my face, studying me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve.

“The front door’s tight,” he said finally. “Every person gets wanded, bags checked. No guns getting in tonight. I always make sure of it.”

I nodded, relief washing through me that he seemed to be buying my story. “Good. That’s good.”

He stepped closer, and I felt my back press against the cool marble of the sink. One of his hands came up, tilting my chin so I had to look at him.

“You’re lying,” he said softly, no accusation in his voice, just certainty. “But I’ll let it go for now. Club’s about to open, and we both got work to do.”

I swallowed hard, unable to look away from those piercing eyes.

“But make no mistake,” he continued, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip. “You will be telling me laters.”

I felt myself shiver at the promise in his voice. This man was younger than me, yet he commanded me with an authority that made my insides melt. I had to force myself to remember I was the boss here.

“Fine,” I managed, trying to sound dismissive. “Now let me go. I have a club to run.”

He stepped back, his towering Adonis-frame filling the doorway as he unlocked it. “Go do your thing, Queen. But don’t think we’re done.”

Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the bathroom with my hands trembling against the cool porcelain.

I stared at my reflection. The mirror reflected back a woman who looked composed, but inside I was a mess of contradictions, turned on by Cannon’s dominance yet pissed at his presumption, terrified of Smoke’s threats yet determined not to cave.

“Get your shit together,” I whispered to my reflection.

I straightened my shoulders, fixed my lipstick, and walked out of that bathroom like I owned the world, which in this club, I did. The bass was already thumping through the speakers, early birds lining up at the bar while my dancers warmed up the poles.

The night moved like clockwork after that.

I worked the VIP section, making sure bottles kept flowing and egos stayed stroked.

Jupiter was killing it, just like I knew she would, drawing a crowd of high rollers like moths to a flame.

I worked my way through the club, pausing to whisper in a dancer’s ear, smooth-talk a VIP, or handle any small fires before they became infernos.

All the while, I felt Cannon’s eyes on me from across the room, tracking my every move like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.