Am I yours?

"Why are you here!"

Oswald lowered his voice, barely concealing his anger.

Ririko ignored both men's gazes, took the champagne out of the ice bucket, and wiped the bottle.

Holding it up, she smiled at Oswald. "Boss, I'm going to open it now."

Oswald watched her hold the champagne bottle with its mouth pointed straight at him. It was no different from threatening to blow his head off with a pistol at point-blank range.

His anger died on the spot.

"Put it down. Get out."

He decided to settle the score with her properly later.

But Ririko didn't obey. She pressed her thumb against the cork and twisted the bottle.

Cold sweat broke out on Oswald's forehead. If that champagne splashed onto Raymond, this shady deal would be dead in the water...

He stared at the mouth of the bottle. Never had he imagined that someone could reduce the great Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot to such a panic with a single bottle of wine.

With a soft pop, the pressure pushed the cork free into Ririko's palm. Not a drop spilled.

Every movement seemed carefully choreographed, graceful and unhurried.

Oswald breathed a sigh of relief. But when she gently slid the poured champagne in front of Raymond, the look in Raymond's eyes worried him even more.

The man's gaze traveled openly from her fingers to her slender wrist, then followed her arm up to her collar-covered neck...

Oswald felt an unpleasant sensation somewhere in his heart.

Then she tilted the bottle, poured another glass, and slid it in front of Oswald with the same motion.

She lowered her head slightly and winked at him.

Didn't I do well?

Oswald struggled to keep his face stern.

Raymond was looking at Ririko, while Ririko was looking at him.

This triangle made him very, very uncomfortable.

Then Ririko lifted the silver covers from both their plates.

"Special Baked Snails with Caviar."

She softly announced the dish.

Oswald picked up his knife and fork. At last, there was something to distract him a little.

He looked down at his plate, his brows drawing tightly together.

There should have been six snails nestled in mushroom caps, but his plate held only six mushrooms and two snails...

He turned to Ririko.

But the mischievous little look on her face left no doubt that she had stolen and eaten the other four!

His blazing eyes scolded her: How dare you steal my food?

Ririko merely bit her lower lip gently.

Her upper teeth caught the small patch at the center of her lower lip, slowly tugged it outward, then released it, leaving a little patch of moist, faintly reddened skin.

Oswald's anger died again.

He quickly looked away and stared at the bare mushroom, imagining Ririko taking the snail off it with her delicate lips instead of a fork...

"Excellent flavor, Cobblepot. Your chefs and waitresses here... are all of a very high standard."

Raymond praised him across the table, his lips gleaming with grease, while his hawklike eyes flicked toward the enticing curves of Ririko's chest.

"Our ingredients... are very fresh."

Oswald stuck his fork into the mushroom, unsure whether she had touched it, and hesitantly brought it to his mouth.

Standing beside him, Ririko watched the bird man's infatuation value jump from 6 to 8.

Seeing Ririko still planted there without the slightest intention of leaving, Oswald told her with his eyes: Hurry up and get out. Don't come back in!

Ririko answered with her eyes: I haven't gotten my tip yet.

Oswald glanced at Raymond opposite him: He's already leering at you like that, and you're still thinking about tips? Are you that crazy for money?

Ririko: This isn't exactly a respectable establishment. I did the work, so of course I should get a tip.

Their eyes fired back and forth like machine guns, and Raymond across the table clearly noticed.

Raymond put down his knife and fork and spoke in the tone corporate executives favored at the negotiating table:

"Mr. Cobblepot, could you let this young lady stay? I happen to want to spend a little longer at the club."

His meaning was obvious. He wanted Ririko to keep him company in the room, in a different sense than pouring drinks and serving food.

Oswald's smile faded a fraction, though the corners of his mouth stubbornly remained lifted.

"She's just an ordinary waitress. There's plenty of work waiting for her outside."

As he spoke, he reached out, gripped Ririko's upper arm, and tugged, urging her to leave the room quickly.

"Can't I pay to have her stay?" Raymond's tone hardened, making his determination to have Ririko even clearer.

Oswald rose from the table and said, enunciating every word, "It's not a question of money. She's not that kind of... hostess."

Ririko watched him defend her from beside him, curious how strong the bird man's competitive streak could be.

Raymond stood as well.

He adjusted his collar and said mockingly, "I'd thought Mr. Cobblepot was a man who knew how to play along. If you can't even bear to part with one woman... I doubt you'll ever amount to much."

Oswald took a step forward. His limp made his body sway slightly, a dangerous signal in a room already thick with tension.

He grabbed Ririko and pulled the troublesome woman behind him.

His shoulder just blocked her face, and the wool fibers of his suit brushed the tip of her nose.

Raymond's eyes began to redden, like those of an enraged bull.

"Cobblepot, what I bring you is worth far more than some lower-class woman. Can't you tell which matters more?"

Nothing infuriated Oswald more than being disrespected.

His jaw tightened, and his neck drew back slightly, like a hawk preparing to fight.

"I don't need your measly profits." He planted the umbrella he carried against the floor. "If you keep insulting one of my people in this club, I won't be so polite."

Both bodyguards behind Raymond took a step forward.

At some point, Butch had appeared in the doorway, with several Iceberg Lounge guards behind him.

Just as the room reached the brink of violence, Ririko peeked halfway out from behind Oswald.

Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "Am I yours?"

Oswald went rigid, his ear instantly turning as red as a cooked shrimp.

"Shut up," he ground out through his teeth.

[Current infatuation value: 10/100]

Ririko gently extended her arms from behind him and wrapped them around his shoulders, interlacing her fingers at his collar and resting her chin in the hollow of his shoulder.

Turning her face sideways, she addressed Raymond in a provocative tone:

"Old man, I may be lower class, but I still have eyes."

She shifted her chin into a more comfortable position in the hollow of Oswald's shoulder.

"This man's legs might not work so well..." Oswald stiffened again. "But he's much more of a gentleman than you."

She suddenly let out a string of mocking laughter. Even someone as vicious as Penguin was shaken for a moment by that devilish sound.

"Hahaha! Can't all that money buy you a mirror... Look at yourself, old, ugly, and greasy... Exactly zero people here want to keep you company."

Raymond's face went from red to purple.

His lips trembled. No one had ever insulted him like this.

Worse still, those words came from a lower-class waitress with a bewitchingly beautiful face, making his blood surge all the harder.

Her reaction stunned his two bodyguards as well, leaving them standing there at a loss.

Raymond felt weak all over.

"Let's go..." He picked up the case full of money and, no longer caring about appearances, left the private room without looking back.

"Hey, old man, you haven't left a tip yet~~" Ririko's vicious voice refused to let him escape.

The room fell quiet.

Butch stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over Ririko's arms around Oswald's shoulders before shifting away.

"Boss, should we do anything?"

Oswald stood where he was, still feeling the warmth of her chest and the rise and fall of her breathing against his back.

He stayed silent for several seconds, making his brain quickly switch from "complete chaos" back to "combat mode."

"Not yet. Wait until he's farther away. Don't dirty the club."

Butch nodded and turned to leave. The other guards withdrew silently as well.

Ririko unwrapped her arms from Cobblepot's shoulders, straightened her skirt, and followed them toward the door as though it were only natural.

"You stay."

Oswald's voice came from behind her.

She turned around, folded her arms across her chest, and looked at Oswald with her eyes slightly narrowed.