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“Maybe your mom will join my mom’s campaign committee,” Lauren joked. “Imagine if the Campos and the Machados joined forces. They’d be unstoppable.”
Enthralled by Lauren’s dark gaze, Sylvie’s heart raced. In her life, no one had ever looked at her the way Lauren was looking at her. It was like she was seeing beyond the facade and straight into her soul. The effect was dizzying and Sylvie had to hold on tight to Lauren to keep from floating away.
Sylvie ran her fingertips along the back of Lauren’s neck. “I don’t know who will be more offended by this. My mother or yours.”
“No one has to know our business,” Lauren decided, her attention fixed on Sylvie’s lips as if hypnotized. “Secrets are kind of hot, right?”
It depends on the secret, Sylvie thought. Wishing she’d never asked Freddie for the favor. Now she was forced to keep it or tarnish all of them with the truth.
“Have you ever been to Ball and Chain?” Lauren asked abruptly. “It’s a bar,” she added with a smirk. “We’ve only just kissed I’m not trying to ask you to marry me.”
Sylvie quirked a brow. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“What? You’re kidding. It’s been around since 1935! Illegal gambling, mobsters, the whole bit.”
Sylvie stared at her expectantly. Little Havana had never been part of her history. Her family was Hialeah Cuban until they upgraded to the neighboring Miami Lakes. “When did you become a historian? It’s not like you grew up here.”
“It’s still part of our history.” Lauren straightened, letting Sylvie go. “It’s our civic duty as good Cuban-Americans to go.”
Sylvie bit back a smile. “Oh really? A civic duty?”
“Yup. What kind of person would I be if I let you walk away without trying one of their mojitos?”
Sylvie wasn’t tired, but she was aware of the time as she glanced at Lauren’s watch. “It’s almost two in the morning, Lou.”
She smiled as if Sylvie had just walked into a carefully laid trap. “Good thing they’re open till three.”
The Ball and Chain was like nothing Sylvie had ever seen. Just a few blocks away from Pastry King’s newest location on the famed Calle Ocho - which had stopped being a thriving place of cultural significance by the time Sylvie and Lauren were born - the bar was otherworldly.
In the front room, a huge, rectangular bar served scores of patrons beneath a vaulted wood ceiling. It was kind of like walking into an outdoor, tropically themed gazebo from the middle of the last century.
“This place is cool right?” Lauren shouted over the deafening rumba music.
Sylvie nodded and followed her through the sweaty crowd to a crescent-shaped booth carved into the wall like it had been chipped away from a solid piece of wood. As she slid in to one side, the table still full of dirty cups from the people who’d just occupied it, Sylvie imagined sitting there with mobsters making shady deals while billowing cigar smoke.
“I’ll be right back,” Lauren shouted when Sylvie was situated in the middle of the booth.
Several minutes later, she returned with a busboy, who she tipped generously to clean the table, and two mojitos.
“Just one!” Sylvie cautioned as she accepted the drink.
Lauren grinned. “We’ll see after you taste it!”
As soon as she tasted the crisp, citrusy rum drink with a refreshing burst from the fresh mint muddled inside, Sylvie decided she was tired of Lauren being right about things she’d like.
Lauren leaned in close to Sylvie. “How is it?”
“Fine,” she decided with a shrug and resisted the urge to take another long sip.
“You’re such a liar.” Lauren laughed. “And a terrible one at that.”
Sylvie held the straw between her teeth to hide her smirk and narrowed her eyes to hide her delight. “You require so much positive reinforcement. Do you want me to tap you on the head and tell you you’re a good girl?”
Lauren’s dark gaze flashed like the edge of a knife before dropping to Sylvie’s lips. “I do appreciate verbal confirmation that you like what I’m doing.”
Images of Lauren on top of her tore through Sylvie’s mind. Her head tossed back as she begged Lauren not to stop. Shifting in her seat to relieve the sudden ache between her thighs, she tried to conceal her body’s reaction.
Annoyingly, Lauren didn’t miss a thing. It was like she could read her most minute movements. She leaned in further, her cheek brushing against Sylvie’s as her breath tickled her sensitive neck. “Are you going to tell me you’re not bossy everywhere?”
