Page 7 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

I inhale deeply, puffing up my cheeks and holding the air in my lungs.

But before I can think of a comeback, we’re surrounded by women all cooing over Mary’s ring as if they’ve never seen a diamond before.

I smile in the background, order champagne all round, and break my promise to myself by downing my first glass in one go. When the women finally move on to spread the word around the room like a wildfire, I slide a glass in Mary’s direction.

Her face is flushed, lips moist and parted. She clinks her glass against mine and sips the champagne tentatively. “It’s going to be a big wedding. I think I accidentally invited everyone here.”

I lean closer and graze her lips with mine. “There isn’t going to be a fecking wedding, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

“Am I or am I not wearing your ring?” She waves her hand in front of my face and swallows another mouthful of wine. It’s thirsty work scamming the boss.

And just when I think the evening could not slide any further downhill, Hazel appears in the doorway wailing like a banshee, Max close behind.

“Fuck!”

Mary follows my gaze. “Someone else you had to let down gently, huh?”

I don’t give her the satisfaction of a response. There’s no way Hazel is getting sucked into Mary’s little game, not while she’s wearing the woman’s engagement ring. “Drink up.” I tilt the glass towards her mouth, and for once, she complies.

Dave is waiting for us at the elevator. He doesn’t say a word on the ride down to the lobby, doesn’t even acknowledge the ring onMary’s finger or the way she keeps staring at it. This is what I pay him for: his discretion.

We’re greeted by flashing blue lights and a crowd outside the building, which is fortunately locked up for the night. Dave escorts us out via the back exit and into the underground parking lot. Mary doesn’t even notice the car with the blacked-out windows idling near the barriers or Declan, the guy from the roof, flicking a cigarette across the ground.

The police presence has kept Mary quiet where I failed. She sits beside me on the back seat, forehead pressed up against the glass, as we emerge into the night, following the revolving blue lights with her eyes until they’re out of sight. The adrenaline rush is fading fast.

“Wait.” She slides to the edge of the seat. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“We’re going the wrong way. Tell the driver to turn the car around.”

“Change of plan, Mary. You’re coming home with me.”

“Like fuck am I.” She unfastens her seatbelt and bangs on the window separating us from Dave. “Stop the car! I want to get out.”

“Mary, look out the back window and tell me what you see.”

She turns around and does as she’s told, her eyes narrowing when she spots the black car following us. “Are-are we being followed?”

“They’ll leave us alone when they realize that you’re coming home with me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right? I mean, can’t they just get me to sign a document swearing me to secrecy?”

“It isn’t how they work.”

She slumps back on the seat and fastens her seatbelt. “How would you know?”

“Long story.”

The glow of the street lamps lights up her face intermittently as we drive, and I can’t help noticing the curve of her lips, the shadow of her thick reddish-black eyelashes, the high cheekbones. “I’m not staying the night.” She turns to glare at me, a flush spreading across her face when she realizes that I’ve been staring at her.

I don’t answer.

“Here.” She slides the ring from her finger and hands it back to me. “Might as well take your ring back.”

“Not my ring.”

“I-what? Whose ring is it?”

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