Chapter Two: The Arrangement (Part 1)

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author note: this chapter is dedicated to InkyLeaves and empresspixie for all their help and comments on the first chapter. my second draft will be much improved thanks to y'all <3  

c1p2 TLDR: Maya meets an old man named Mr. Bianchi who buys her a drink. He's old af so she thinks he's just being nice like a grandfather type but turns out he's a gross POS ugly ass hole who spikes her drink and tries to have s e c s with her BLAH gross disgusting so she kicks him in the FACE and breaks his f'ing nose (woohoo!) and then runs off. But since she's still drugged she is like passing out and what do ya know someone vaguely familiar catches her before she passes out ;;;;)00 could it be our love interest? ♡( •ॢ◡-ॢ)✧˖° ♡

*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧

POV: Henry 


The girl has clearly been drugged. 

What can I say? I did try to warn her after she crashed into me. Looks like she didn't heed my advice.

Which begs the question: what should I do with her?

She lies still in my arms, her soft breathing the only sign that she's still alive. She's small and warm against my chest. Unfortunately, I don't think she'll be waking anytime soon.

Now, if only I can find out which one of tonight's lovely attendees is responsible for her condition.

My eyes scan the room, searching for anyone powerful enough to attempt this in such a public setting. It'll have to be someone associated with the underworld. Someone powerful enough to command silence from the others. Someone used to getting their way. Lucky for me, there's only one person who fits that description.

"Ah, I see you've found my plaything."

As if summoned, Mr. Bianchi makes his way through the crowd towards me. His nose looks to be broken, and his shirtfront is stained with blood. A surge of pleasure floods my veins at the idea of this little girl roughing him up so badly, but it's short lived.

Despite his wounds a handful of women, and some men, nod respectfully as he passes. Some are probably hoping to gain his favor, but others... I try not to think about it.

Desperation—and money—changes people. Makes them do things they otherwise wouldn't.

"You've misstepped," I say flatly.

In my arms, the girl remains still. I'm fairly sure she's passed out entirely, because the approach of Mr. Bianchi would surely have triggered a reaction otherwise.

"Is that so?" he snorts.

If anyone else dared speak to me like that, I'd put a bullet in their head. He should be apologizing right now.

No, he should be begging.

I'm not sure if it's because she asked me for help, or because of my dislike for Mr. Bianchi, but I feel sure of one thing: I don't want him to get his hands on her.

Ever.

Problem is, there's only one way to make him back off. But I've never been one to back away from a challenge, so...

"She's mine," I say, forcing a smile onto my face.

He scowls, unimpressed. Or unconvinced, given my rumored betrothal.

"She was alone."

"I wandered off," I counter, "Are you responsible for the state she's in?" I put as much anger into my tone as I can muster. It's not difficult, given the way I feel.

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