The Business Arrangement | Mafia Romance 18+

Chapter Three: The Contract (Part 3)

POV: Maya 

"You look fine. Stop worrying."

Henry's comment snaps me out of my thoughts. I've been staring at my reflection in the car mirror for the duration of the drive. What can I say? It's not every day you introduce your fake-boyfriend to your parents.

My curly brown hair has been brushed down into frizzy braids, but it's doing its best to escape. I'm wearing the starch-white blouse Trevor bought for me, tucked into a pair of navy slacks. My makeup is minimal. In other words, I look like I'm dressed for a day in the office.

That, or ready to chase down a zombie like Evelyn O'Connell in The Mummy.

Somehow I don't think that's what Trevor had in mind.

I turn to Henry, who's in the driver's seat.

We're currently on our way to my parent's house. Since Trevor is taking care of my apartment, I'm saved from the awkwardness of explaining myself to Charlotte. Good thing, too, because I don't know if I'll be able to handle anything else after this visit home.

In Hallmark movies, the billionaire hero is usually pulled down to earth by the small town heroine, and they retire to run the local Christmas village or some other financial disaster of a business. If my life were a movie, that would mean Henry deciding to give up his business empire and run the farm.

But that's the last thing I want out of life.

I need a new start, away from my hometown, where I can live a life of my own. I want to feel free to move on from my past, and know that it's alright to do so.

Henry is offering me that chance. I just have to be brave enough to take it.

"Turn here," I say, pointing to the approaching gravel drive.

Has he even seen a gravel road before?

Will a car as nice as this be able to make it to the house at all?

"Don't worry," he says, as if he can sense my nervous energy.

"It'll be fine," I nod, though I don't necessarily believe it.

Luckily–or not– the car does indeed make it up the driveway to the small farm I grew up on.

It looks exactly as I left it, save for the new car parked beside my father's run down truck. The three bedroom house is painted blue, with white gingerbread trim. The sheep in the pasture bleat excitedly as we approach, and a cat runs across in front of us as we make our way over the gravel.

Part of me feels protective of this place, and I hope against all odds that Henry will be able to see it the way I do: wild, unpredictable, lovely Mississippi.

It's far more likely that he'll view it as a dump, though.

Or maybe a swamp?

Yeah, Shrek's house sounds about right.

"You ready?" Henry asks.

He pulls to a stop beside my father's truck and parks the car. He turns to look at me, placing a hand on the back of my seat in the process.

A bad memory rises to the surface of my mind.

I'm fifteen, and I've just accepted a ride home from a friend. Our parents work together. We grew up together. I view him like a brother. He passes up the turn, driving out of the way and parking in an empty lot.

"What are we doing?" I ask, confused.

He turns and places a hand on the back of my seat.