The Business Arrangement | Mafia Romance 18+

Chapter Twelve: The Parlay (Part 3)

POV: Maya

I don't know if it's the sight of Bianchi, or the effects of the chloroform, but another bout of nausea hits me then and there. My stomach cramps, and it's all I can do not to spill my guts all over the floor.

"What did you do to her?" I ask, once I've recovered enough to speak.

Bianchi watches blandly as I make my way to Charlotte's side on the couch. When I press my hand to her wrist I can feel a pulse, so she must just be unconscious. I have to get her out of here. I have to get her to safety. That should be my priority now, above anything else. Bianchi might have the upper hand right now, but there's still a chance for her to get out alive.

"She's just sleeping," Bianchi laughs. "I had her brought here straight from the country club courtesy of a bellman. It's amazing the things people will do for money."

"Did you hurt her?" I ask, turning to face him.

He's walking leisurely towards me, as if we're having a friendly chat rather than a psycho forced confrontation. Instead of answering my question, he grins broadly.

"I should thank you, Maya. The wild goose chase you've led me on has been the most fun I've had in ages. Now I have two girls instead of one."

His words sting. I was a fool to think I could bargain with him. He never intended to let Charlotte go, and I was stupid enough to try and sacrifice myself for the sake of her and Henry.

"You're disgusting," I hiss.

"No, I'm just a realist. I see what I want, and I take it. You of all people should understand."

My brows narrow in confusion.

"We're nothing alike."

At this, he leans his head back and guffaws loudly.

"That's cheap, even for you. I knew who you were the moment you walked into that party. A poor student on scholarship, looking for a free ride through life. Why else would you have accepted a drink from a man like me? You knew what I wanted. Don't deny it."

His skewed vision of reality is staggering. It sounds like some shit an incel would come up with to justify his behavior towards women. Anger rises in my chest, and I rush to defend myself.

"That's not true and you know it. I earned that invitation through hard work, and I wasn't looking for any free ride. I thought you were trying to help me, that's all. I thought you were being nice."

"Nice? My dear girl, don't pretend to be innocent. We're both adults here."

"You took advantage of me."

Though I try to fight it, my vision blurs with tears. A feeling of helplessness creeps over me. I'm backed into a corner. Even this argument is pointless, unless he magically has a heart attack and dies in the middle of it. A girl can dream.

"I did no such thing. You followed me out into a private hall, then broke my nose. You assaulted me."

"You drugged me."

"Did I?"

Mr. Bianchi's amused expression morphs into one of confusion, and I find my head spinning at his sudden transformation. He's far too good a liar. Though I know he's manipulating me, his wide-eyed look of concern still makes my head spin.

"Yes," I say, but my voice is hesitant.

"You just had too much to drink," he argues, "You were confused."

"No. That's not what happened."

I don't know what game he's playing, but I'm not going to let him gaslight me into blaming myself. He drugged me that night. I never would have gotten that out of sorts on alcohol alone.