The Business Arrangement | Mafia Romance 18+

Chapter Twenty: The Finale (🔥spicy)

POV: Maya

Henry's gaze drops to my lips, then drags slowly down my neck, to the deep V of my dress.

It's just a glance, but it feels irrationally scandalous.

Especially given that we're in the middle of a party, with hundreds of people around us.

There's no telling how long the party will last. Even if we leave early, we'll be here for a little while longer. I'm pretty sure we can't skip out immediately after the first toast of the night, after all.

"We have about an hour," Henry says, drawing my attention back to him.

"What?"

His gaze returns to my face, and his perfect lips quirk up in amusement.

"Until we can leave," he answers. "Just in case you were wondering."

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Of course he knew just what I was thinking.

"Oh. Right."

But then again, it's his fault my mind's in the gutter.

The way he's looking at me...

"You still haven't tried your drink," Henry points out, motioning to the glass in my hand. "We should sit."

Something about his tone tells me that sitting and drinking are the last things on his mind, but I do as he suggested anyway and slide into the nearby corner booth.

He joins me a second later, and raises his glass in a toast.

"To us."

I clink my glass gently against his, then take a sip of the drink he bought me.

It's strong, and the bitter taste of alcohol burns my throat as I drink it down.

He watches me carefully. "Thoughts?"

"I sincerely hope this isn't as expensive as whatever Noah bought Charlotte."

He laughs, and shakes his head no. "Just a martini. You've never told me your favorite drink."

"Maybe next time dry something with fruit and sugar," I tease. "Like, a daiquiri."

"Unfortunately, the Ironside is ill equipped for making daiquiris."

"Well, y'all should seriously consider adding them to the menu. It would liven the place up a bit."

"Duly noted. I'll bring it up in our next business meeting. Top priority, of course."

"Of course."

I take another sip of my drink, and at the same time Henry moves a hand to my leg beneath the table.

His fingers brush against the high slit cut into my dress, and goosebumps pebble my bare skin.

"Cold?" he teases, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously.

I roll my eyes and take another sip of my drink rather than answer him.

He does the same, raising his glass of scotch to his perfect lips. At the same time, his fingers slide higher.

Dangerously higher.

I sputter on my drink, but manage to maintain my composure before I spill it all.

Then I turn to Henry, my eyes narrowed suspiciously on his ice blue eyes, which are focused intently on his drink, as if he's simply relaxed at the table rather than feeling me up beneath the starch white tablecloth.