35. Shots?Shots
Chapter 35
Shots? OR Shots
Antonella
I’m fully expecting the hot pink convertible again. Much to my surprise, it’s a fully decked-out limo. To be fair, why am I surprised? This is a girl who goes all out for everything. Why would a night out be any different?
“My God.” I shake my head while climbing into the back. The thumping loud music fills my ears, vibrating throughout my entire body.
“Ciao, bella!” Giulietta shouts in my ear.
“Ciao.” I wince at the decibel of her voice.
“This is Kita and Alexei.” She gestures to the two sitting next to each other while turning down the music. I don’t think he wants to be here. Or maybe he’s constipated—like how Giulietta told me Giordano appears sometimes.
Now, I can’t unsee the constipated look.
Should I ask him about his bowel habits? Probably not. Too gross. He’s probably regular, with all the cappuccinos he drinks. It’s got to be the resting bitch face. Or the constant stress of being a fucking Mafia Don .
I wave. There it is again—the awkward waving. “Hey.”
Alexei glances over to me, not saying a word. His legs are stretched out to the middle of the limo floor, yet still somehow cramped up.
Kita on the other hand—she may have already been pre-gaming, and is a little bit tipsy. “Privyet,” she says in thick Russian accent, “Lovely to meet you. I heard you’ve been fucking her brother.” Her almond-shaped, green eyes squint while giving a wide-toothed grin.
“Uh…” My eyes fly wide open, eyebrows raised practically all the way up my forehead. The audacity? How the hell am I supposed to respond?
“Kita.” Giulietta groans, faking a gag. Or maybe a real gag. I wouldn’t blame her if I had a brother. “ Gross . I don’t need the visual.”
“You pictured your brother fucking? You’re gross.” Kita laughs and slams whatever she’s drinking. She runs her hands through her waist-length, silky, jet black hair.
“Watch it, mishonok moya.” Alexei shakes his head, with this death glare stuck on his face. One of those types. Ready to kill someone at any moment. Note to self, never get on his bad side.
“Kita… No,” Giulietta snaps. Turning to me, she mouths ‘ I’m sorry .’
The bouncer outside of The Estrada let us in without even checking our IDs. Clearly, exclusivity here isn’t a thing. The other half is supposed to be a sex club, but tonight, we’re strictly enjoying the nightclub scenery which is packed to the brim with overdressed men and women.
I shift my attention back to the girls, the bartender, and Alexei, who’s brooding about behind Nikita—hovering over her like she’ll die if he’s not standing an inch away .
Weird? Or normal bodyguard behavior? I don’t have the slightest clue. But in my personal opinion, it’s a tad bit excessive.
“Can we get a tray of eighteen tequila shots each, please?” Kita asks the bartender.
“Holy fuck, Kita…” I scratch the back of my head. “Eighteen?”
She winks at me. “I don’t often let myself black out. Tonight, I party hard .”
“Shots of tequila with no chaser is a choice.” I wince. “I don’t think I’ve had tequila in years.”
The bartender places the trays in front of us—eighteen shot glasses lined up, single file. Shit. I’m supposed to drink all of these? I mean, she’s paying for them. It’d be a waste of money; I’d hate to be rude.
“Bottoms up, bitches!” Kita downs the first shot. Giulietta and I follow after her.
The tequila burns my nose. My throat burns . Everything’s on fire, and my eyes fill with tears. I’m trying to play it cool on the outside, but on the inside—I’m dead.
“You good, Tone?” Giulietta picks up another glass.
Waving my arm, to tell her without words— I’m fine —I reach for the second glass, and press it up against my lips. Here goes nothing. I throw back the second shot. Tonight’s about having fun. So, fun we shall have.
Two— Still burns.
Three— not bad.
Four— getting easier now.
Five—Six Seven Eight Nine.
“SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!” People around us chant as we down our what… Tenth shot each? Halfway through. Too many. It no longer hurts my throat as I swallow it anymore. No feelings of anything, if I’m being honest with myself.
I dig around in my purse, searching for my phone. It’s got to be around here somewhere. Ah, there it is. I pull it out. My vision’s spinning— dizzy . I blink, attempting to focus on the hazy image of Giulietta’s angry stare.
“No phones on girls night! Unless it's for pictures !”
“I’ll be quick!” I shout over the thumping, loud music.
If you would likeeeeeee, I can move out on my own now. I make enough at this new job. Thanksssss fro everything.
Giulietta’s cold fingers tap my shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back!”
“Oh! I’ll go with you,” Kita replies. Naturally, Alexei follows them, leaving me alone at the bar.
I’m fine here for a few moments by myself. I’m all by my lonesome. And nothing bad ever happens to girls alone at a public bar.
I tap the glass, throwing back another shot— eleven .
“There you are, beautiful.” The Irish accent.
I shake my head and circle around on the bar stool. Or maybe I’m not fine here for a few moments by myself. Damn projection. I should’ve kept my thoughts to myself. Did I manifest this man to pop up?
Wrong man.
“Hello, Cillian ,” I slur. Whoops, that came out more sloppy than intended.
I tuck my phone back into my purse—probably not the brightest decision. I should call Giordano. For some reason he doesn’t want me interacting with this guy. And my gut, otherwise intoxicated, usually agrees. I take another shot, for confidence, of course.
Twelve.
“Too much to drink tonight, yeah?” He takes a step closer to me, his green eyes darkening—with what? I don’t know… but the vibe?
Off.
Warning sirens are going off in my brain .
I’m twirling around on the bar stool, searching for the girls. I can’t find them anywhere. Where did they go? They were right here a second ago. Oh, yeah. Bathroom . They aren’t back yet?
“I’ll take as many shots as I want.” I toss my waist-length, wavy hair over my shoulder. “Who even are you to tell me what to do?”
“Cillian O’Duinn.” His hand extends out for a shake, as if we’re meeting for the first time.
My gaze drops down to his hands, debating whether or not to accept. They’re roughed up and have tattooed letters across his knuckles in all capital letters saying BITE THIS .
That’s the other word?
“I know your name.” With instant regret, I take his hand. “ Remember ?”
He kisses the back of my hand. Shivers go down my spine— not the good kind. I suppress the vomit rising in my chest.
“We’ve run into each other only a handful of times now, Miss Vitale.”
“ Hardly ,” I slur, again. Damn it. Get it together. I yank my hand back from him.
Once again, I scan around the room with my eyes only. It’s less obvious. Seriously, how long does it take for them to go to the bathroom? Are they having a party in there?
“You looking for someone?” His head tilts, irritability glowing behind his eyes.
Yes . Alexei, where are you?
“Nope,” my voice cracks. Can he see right through my lie?
“A pretty girl like you must have boys fawning all over…” His expression hardens, yet remains smiling. It’s eerie. Creepy. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Nausea churns in my stomach. My trembling hands grip onto the shot glass. Please don’t come back up, tequila. I doubt you’ll taste as good coming back up as you did going down. Not that I remember the flavor, honestly .
The way Giordano reacted to him when we bumped into each other the last time. And how Cillian ordered a hit out on him… For what reason, I’m not sure yet. Trying to finish the job? Since he was the one who murdered Vito Marzano.
“ Yes ,” I lie, my nose scrunching up. Giordano used me; I’m going to use him.
His smile fades into a more… sinister scowl. “Wrong answer,” he growls. Taking another step closer toward me, he’s hovering over me now.
I want to get up off of the chair, but it’s too late.
He’s too close.
My heart jumps into my throat. Adrenaline mixes with a drunken haze, taking over my body. My trembling hands fly up, covering my face in full preparation to be assaulted, drugged, or kidnapped. All the above.
Just as I’m about to scream for help, someone pulls him away from me before anything happens.
“Back the fuck off,” Alexei’s voice bellows over the thumping club music. My heartbeat’s thumping louder than anything else, to be honest.
“ You’re her boyfriend?” He squares his shoulders, taking a step backward.
Please fucking go away .
“Worse.” Alexei chuckles, gripping the back of Cillian’s shirt collar, and forcefully shoving him away. “I suggest you leave before we have any more issues.”
“I will meet you again, Antonella Vitale,” Cillian snarls. Without another word, he storms off and disappears into the crowd of dancing people.
Alexei glares at Cillian until he’s no longer in view. “Let’s get you back to Giordano,” Alexei says.
I twirl around on the bar stool, preparing to stand.
His gaze slides over to the front entrance, facial expression remaining the same. “On second thought, looks like he’s already here,” he whispers in my ear.
I gulp as tingling sensations flow throughout from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and fingertips. I’m either about to faint or throw up.
One of the two.
A few things are plausible. One , he watched the whole thing and understood what happened. Two , he watched and thought I was hitting on him—definitely not. Or three, he didn’t witness anything at all.
Which one’s worse?
“I’ll talk to him,” Alexei says in a flat tone.
I nod, then face the bar. It’s probably for the best. I’m going to need another shot before dealing with the situation. Alexei will explain what happened and maybe Giordano won’t be mad at me. It’s not my fault. I did nothing wrong, anyway. Fucking men.
Fuck all this.
“Two shots of straight tequila, please?” I ask. The bartender smiles while pouring the shots, then drops them in front of me. I down them instantly. “Another, please?”
He raises a brow, then pours another one.
“Don’t go cutting me off, now.” I roll my head around in a circle, more drunken haziness washes over me. Dizzy. “Keep ‘em coming.”
“ Girl , you’ve had like fourteen shots, and like nothing else. Don’t think I haven’t been watching your little trio. What the hell happened there?” the bartender asks, sliding the glass over.
I laugh, a little louder than I normally would’ve. I slur, “Toxic masculinity happened there.” I shoot it back, preparing to face the wrath of Giordano. “ Fifteen shots.”
“Are you okay?” Giulietta plops down on the stool next to me.
“Wow, where were you this entire time?” I nod while giving her an eyes-half open, wide-tooth grin. “I think our next girls night will be at home. ”
“Good idea.” She laughs, throwing a shot back.
A familiar, dominating presence comes up from behind me. No more for dear Antonella. Pre-cutting myself off, before I regret it in the morning.
I spin around, and a little simper spreads across my lips while squinting at a particular Italian man, who’s always in my business. Any attempts to focus my swirling vision, have become pointless.
Have the strobe lights always been blinding?
“Good evening, my good sir. How are?—”
“Have you any idea the danger you’ve put yourself in tonight?” He growls.
I yawn—bored with tonight’s dramatics and wanting to crawl straight into bed. His bed, preferably.
“As Miss Vitale was saying, before I was so crudely interrupted…” I hop off the bar stool, nearly falling on the ground. Oh, Hell. I’m wearing heels.
Bad decision.
Giulietta’s voice is a high-pitched buzzing in my ear—more so than normal—as she says, “Hey, you don’t look so g?—”
He catches me effortlessly in his arms and lifts me up. One arm under my legs and the other behind my back.
“I am not beauty. I am not grace, but I will fall right on my face.” I giggle, catching a whiff of his sandalwood cologne—delicious. I love his cologne; sandalwood instantly calms me down. I nuzzle my face into his neck and shut my eyes.