The Billionaire's Command
Page 47

She stopped speaking, and I waited a moment, eyebrow raised, to make sure she had finished her outburst. I could see in her eyes that my silence made her wonder if she had gone too far, but she didn’t attempt to apologize, which increase my respect for her.
“Thank you, Germaine,” I said. “You’re completely correct. Sasha was an error that I don’t intend to repeat. Rest assured that I’ve grown quite fond of her, and she’ll be back at work in a few weeks, no harm done. As for my visits, it was never my intention to question your management. I prefer to take an active approach with my business investments and work to maximize efficiency and profit. We’ll discuss a way for me to do this without interrupting your day-to-day operations. I’ve never doubted your competence.”
I wasn’t, as a general rule, a fan of apologizing, but the look on her face made it worthwhile. “Well,” she said, and then snapped her mouth shut like a fish catching a hook. “Mr. Turner, I’m—”
“I’m sure,” I said. “Draw up an outline of my ideal role in the club’s management. We’ll set a meeting to discuss it sometime next week. For now, I won’t disrupt your dancers, but I am going to visit the control room to see about the equipment upgrades Clarence mentioned. After that, I’ll leave.”
Germaine stood up, then, and extended one hand to me across the desk. I took it, and she gave me a firm handshake and said, “Mr. Turner, I think we’ll work together very well in the future.”
I gave her an approving nod. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I walked out of her office feeling a little like I had bearded the lion in its own den. Germaine was quite a woman. If I were twenty years older, or if she were twenty years younger—well, it was rare I met someone who was willing to go toe-to-toe with me, and she had done it with very little hesitation and her job on the line. I was impressed.
I headed for the control room. Clarence, the head of security, had told me that the surveillance equipment was out of date and starting to screw up at inopportune moments. It was vital that the hidden cameras worked properly so that the security guys could make sure none of the clients pushed the dancers too far. Rape wasn’t something I was willing to tolerate, and so I wanted to get some details about what upgrades were needed and how much it would cost. Money was no object, of course, given what was at stake, but I preferred to have a rough budget before making any decisions about purchasing.
The control room was tucked away in the back of the club, a narrow, dark, cramped room that was the heart of security operations. The man seated at the bank of monitors wasn’t Clarence, but it was his second-in-command, Kevin, which was the next best thing to talking to the man himself. He turned to look at me as I came in the door, and then grinned and said, “What’s up, Mr. Turner?”
“How are you, Kevin?” I asked. “Anything exciting happen recently?”
He shook his head and turned back to stare at the monitors. “Nah, it’s been real quiet the last few nights. ‘Scuse me if I don’t look at you while we’re talking. There’s a girl in with a client. But that’s how we want it, right? Boring. Excitement means somebody’s putting his hands where they don’t belong.”
“I know all the girls feel better with you watching over them, Kevin,” I said, and he beamed. Kevin wasn’t the fluffiest towel in the closet, as my father would say, but he was honest and a hard worker, and he took his duties very seriously. I knew that Clarence had complete faith in him, and Clarence struck me as a man with his head firmly screwed onto his shoulders. I took a seat in the extra chair and said, “Do you know if Clarence will be in tonight? I wanted to speak with him about the equipment upgrades.”
Kevin shook his head, still staring intently at the monitors. “He’s off tonight. But he wrote up a list of the stuff he wants, if you’d like to take a look at that, Mr. Turner. It’s on that clipboard hanging on the wall.”
I leaned behind Kevin to snag the clipboard. I had expected a thick sheaf of papers, but Clarence had evidently decided to take pity on me and make things as uncomplicated as possible. He’d typed up a list of what he needed, and included an estimate of prices and installation costs. It all looked very reasonable to me, and I trusted Clarence to have done his legwork in terms of sniffing out competitive prices. “Tell Clarence I’ll approve all of this,” I said. “I’ll speak to Germaine before I leave tonight.”
Kevin glanced at me briefly, grinning wide. “That’s great, Mr. Turner. Clarence will be real happy, and the girls will sure be happy when the feeds quit cutting out. That’s real good of you, Mr. Turner.”
“I want all of the dancers to be safe,” I said. “There’s a reason this is the best gentleman’s club in Manhattan, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, for sure,” Kevin said, and then leaned toward one of the monitors, frowning.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well, I can’t say for sure,” he says. “It’s probably okay. I thought maybe this girl wasn’t too happy, but now she’s touching his arm, so that’s okay.”
I leaned forward, peering at the monitor he was watching. The image was grainy, black-and-white, and taken from a high angle near the ceiling, but the proceedings were all too clear. A man stood in the middle of one of the private rooms, looming over a woman who was looking up at him, head tilted, her hand settled on his arm just above the elbow. She made a gesture with her other hand, and the man shook his head and seized her around the waist, pulling her close.
I frowned. Her hair, and the way she held her head—
Jesus Christ.
It was Sasha.
My blood ran cold. I had never understood the expression until that moment, but the sensation was unmistakable.
I stood up. “What room is that?”
He looked at me, bewildered. “I think she’s okay, Mr. Turner. Really.”
“I’m sure she is,” I said. “But I’d like to speak with her later, after she’s done.” That made no sense, but I hoped Kevin wasn’t sharp enough to question me.
“Oh,” he said. “Sure. That’s room 8.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “Have a good evening, Kevin. Please give my regards to Clarence.”
“I sure will,” he said, and smiled at me. “See you later, Mr. Turner.”