The Business Arrangement | Mafia Romance 18+

Chapter Six: The Queen (Part 2)

POV: Henry 

Maya tries not to react, but I can tell my announcement has taken her off guard.

"Do I need to...?" she gestures back to the spare bedroom, but I shake my head.

"No. I shouldn't have left you alone last night. You'll stay here, with me."

Relief washes across her face, which only makes me feel worse. I may have done the right thing by stopping us from going further, but I shouldn't have made her sleep alone.

Especially not after everything I've learned about her family, her childhood, even her loneliness.

"I'll get the door. You can finish drinking your coffee."

She nods and picks her mug off the kitchen bar as I turn away.

I wish we had more time to talk, but unfortunately my mother has little patience on the best of days. And I have a feeling she won't wait long.

A loud banging on the door confirms my thoughts.

This isn't going to go well.

"One moment," I call, hoping she'll calm down a little. It's not likely, though, given the situation.

She's been dead set on my marriage to Sofia Vitale since we were children. And I'll admit, it would be a perfect match—at least on paper. We're both rich enough to buy the moon, both trained in the same complex social circles outside of the law, and both know exactly what's expected of us.

Oh, and Sofia just happens to be the only daughter of Angelo Vitale, the Don of the Chicago outfit.

In other words, it would be the perfect match to cement our two families' tentative alliance. The Irish and the Italians, working together at last. And an easy way to solidify my power over the city.

Unfortunately, I have absolutely zero interest in Sofia Vitale. She's cold and distant, polished to fault, not to mention other things...

Unlike Maya.

I push the thought from my head as I open the door, and plaster a neutral expression on my face as best I can.

My mother pushes into the room in a blur of blonde hair and silk, not bothering to wait on me to usher her in. I shut the door calmly behind her, then turn.

She's stopped in her tracks, and is now staring mouth-open at Maya, who's still standing in the kitchen.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips at the thought that we've managed to surprise her.

So far so good, I suppose.

"Excuse me," my mother hisses, turning to face me. Her forehead is lined with anger, and she removes her sunglasses with a flourish. "Who, in God's name, is this?"

She points one of her white-gloved fingers in Maya's direction, but doesn't bother to look at her.

"Ah," I nod thoughtfully, as if her behavior is reasonable, "This is–"

"Maya Green. It's nice to meet you."

My mouth falls open in surprise at Maya's confident tone.

Looks like I've underestimated her, too.

My mother, on the other hand, has gone fully defensive. A tight-lipped smile snakes across her face, and her eyes barely conceal her quiet fury.

"It's too hot in here," she complains, dropping her coat on the back of a chair as she walks to the kitchen. I follow tentatively behind her, and watch the scene play out with interest. It's not every day I introduce a woman to my sole surviving relative, after all.