The Mafia's Sugar Queen

Hannah

I squeezed myself into my bestie Emma Taylor's borrowed dress, silently cursing her fashion choices while struggling with the thin straps. The mirror reflected a stranger who seemed to have far more confidence than I did.

"Stop fidgeting! You look hot," Emma declared, applying another coat of mascara to her already perfect lashes.

"I look like I'm auditioning for a reality dating show," I muttered, tugging at the plunging neckline that seemed determined to showcase assets I preferred keeping private. "This dress has more slits than actual fabric."

Emma rolled her eyes. "That's the point, Han. You've been buried in textbooks for months. One night of looking smoking hot won't kill you."

My bank account balance flashed in my mind, a pitiful double-digit number that had been haunting me all week. I shouldn't be out tonight at all, but Sofia's birthday celebration wasn't something I could miss. My best friends were the only luxury I could afford these days.

"Is Michael coming tonight?" I asked, trying to sound casual while adjusting the dress for the twentieth time.

Emma's reflection smirked at me. "Said he was busy with some work. Why? Planning to show off your new look?"

"No! Just asking." I felt my cheeks warm. "And this isn't my look. This is your dress that I'm borrowing against my better judgment."

"You'll thank me later," Emma winked, tossing me her lipstick. "Now finish up. The Uber's three minutes away."

I applied it with shaky hands. The deep red shade seemed to complete my transformation from an overworked grad student to... whatever this was.

"Three minutes? I need at least ten to mentally prepare for walking in public like this." I checked my reflection one last time. The dress hugged every curve like it was getting paid to do so.

Emma grabbed her purse. "You look amazing. Stop overthinking."

The Uber ride was mercifully short. Sofia had chosen The Velvet Room, an upscale pub that made my bank account wince just looking at its fancy exterior. Exposed brick walls, Edison bulbs, and bartenders who probably had more formal education than I did.

"Hannah!" Sofia squealed when we walked in, rushing over in a blur of sequins and perfume. "You made it! And wow, look at you!"

I accepted her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday! Sorry, I'm so late. Wardrobe... complications."

"Worth it," she whispered with a wink before pulling Emma into the hug. "Come on, we've got a table in the back. Drinks are flowing!"

We weaved through the crowded pub to find Valentina, Nora, Thomas, and Andrew already settled at a large booth. The table was littered with colorful cocktails and small plates of overpriced appetizers.

"Hannah Mitchell, is that you, or did Emma finally create her clone army?" Thomas raised his glass as I approached.

I slid into the booth, grateful to be sitting down. "Very funny. I lost a bet."

"You did not!" Emma protested, settling beside me. "You agreed willingly."

"Under duress," I clarified, reaching for Sofia's untouched water. "Happy birthday, by the way."

Sofia beamed. "Thanks! And don't worry about drinks tonight. My parents sent me birthday money, so it's all on me."

I could have kissed her. "You're an angel."

Andrew pushed a menu toward me. "They have these ridiculous cocktails with smoke and fire. I ordered something called 'The Existential Crisis,' and it came with a tiny paper boat floating on top."

I eyed the menu, raising an eyebrow at the pretentious cocktail names. "An 'Existential Crisis' seems appropriate for my current life situation."

"It's actually pretty good," Andrew insisted. "The tiny paper boat represents your hopes and dreams slowly sinking into alcohol."

"Poetic," I snorted. "What happens if I drink it too fast? Does that mean I've drowned my ambitions?"

The table erupted in laughter.

Sofia was glowing with birthday happiness, and the warm lighting of The Velvet Room cast everyone in a flattering glow. Even me, I supposed, judging by the second glances I kept catching.

"To Sofia!" Thomas raised his glass. "May this year bring you everything you deserve, which is only the best because you're amazing."

We clinked glasses, and I took a sip of water, waiting for the server to return so I could order something with actual alcohol. My eyes wandered around the crowded pub, taking in the mix of professionals unwinding after work and the younger crowd dressed to impress.

That's when I noticed him.

He sat at a corner table with three other men in expensive suits, but unlike them, he wasn't engaged in conversation. His attention was fixed directly on me. Dark hair swept back from a face that belonged on a Renaissance painting – all sharp angles and perfect symmetry. His suit looked custom-made, hugging broad shoulders that tapered to a trim waist.

I quickly looked away, heat rising to my cheeks. When I dared another glance, he was still watching, one corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been amusement.

"Earth to Hannah," Valentina waved her hand in front of my face. "You ordering or what?"

I blinked, realizing the server was standing beside our table, pen poised. "Oh! Sorry. I'll have..." I scanned the menu quickly. "The 'Midnight Confession,' please."

"Ooh, spicy choice," Nora teased. "Planning on confessing something tonight?"

"Just my undying love for whoever invented pizza," I quipped, trying not to look back at the mysterious man.

My drink arrived – a dark concoction with a rim of something that sparkled under the lights. Sofia insisted on taking group photos, which involved much shuffling and posing before we settled back into conversation.

"Did I tell you guys about the professor who came to class with his shirt inside out last week?" Thomas launched into a story about academic mishaps.

Our table erupted in laughter. I sipped my drink, the sweet-spicy mix warming my throat. The sparkly rim left a trace of shimmer on my lips.

"You know what we need?" Sofia announced, standing up suddenly. "Dancing!"

My stomach dropped. "Oh no, I don't—"

"Yes!" Emma clapped her hands. "The DJ's actually playing something decent for once."

I shook my head. "I really can't dance in this dress. One wrong move, and I'll cause a scene."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Forget about the dress! You're sexy and hot today, and it's criminal to waste it sitting in a booth."

"That's right," Sofia nodded, already swaying to the beat. "Birthday girl commands it."

"I can't argue with the birthday girl," I conceded but made no move to stand.

Andrew slid out of the booth. "Come on, Hannah. Even I'm dancing, and I have the coordination of a newborn giraffe."

"Fine," I sighed, "but I need to finish my drink first. For courage."

"Two minutes," Emma pointed at me. "Then we're coming back to drag you."

I watched my friends migrate to the dance floor near the DJ booth. Sofia immediately took center stage, her sequins catching the light as she moved. Emma and Valentina flanked her, while Thomas and Andrew attempted what I could only describe as enthusiastic flailing.

I took another sip of my drink and glanced around the bar. The mysterious man was gone from his table. Disappointment flickered through me, which was ridiculous. What had I expected? That he'd come over and introduce himself?