Chapter 3
Gabriel
There are always moments in life that make you feel like you are stuck in time, and no matter how hard you try, you can never escape that moment because it is engraved into yourself like a tattoo. I have such a moment.
It was the moment my father stepped out of the door and left us alone with my pregnant mother because in his words he didn’t feel like a father so he didn’t want to act like one in front of us. To anyone. So, he left without another word even when I was screaming and crying for him to stay. Begged him to stay as tears were streaming down my face, but he is a heartless bastard who didn’t care but yet sometimes when I sit in my lonely office and I get caught in the moment, I am grateful that he left, because I would rather have no father than an absent one who doesn’t love us.
And most of the time I am grateful he left because that helped my mother get a better life by marrying again when my brother Charles was four. My stepdad is the best father I could have ever wished for. And I was granted a wish when I was 12.
I got my little sister Nicole. I love both of my siblings, and I hate saying this but I will murder Charles for lying to me that and saying that it will be a quick in and out business at this club and now I am stuck here in a club in Monaco, nowhere to find him because he ditched me for his ‘business.’
Little brothers who act like teenagers who just found out how fun sex can be, are really annoying but I need to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t end up in prison. Happened once when he was 17. Don’t even get me started on my little sister Nicole. She has been a troublemaker since the age of seven and worse than Charles. She landed both of them in prison and the cost of getting them both out was high. But at that time mother was already married again and lucky for us, my stepfather used to own Harvey co. Architecture and now he entrusted it in my hands.
Nicole isn’t my sister since she is from a different father, but I see her as nothing less than my little trouble of a sister. No wonder she gets the nickname fire starter or jailbait from everyone.
She starts trouble with everyone. Don’t even get me started on men. She curses them with voodoo dolls if necessary but only the intolerable ones.
“Scotch, neat.” I demand from the bartender and he prepares my drink immediately. I handed over fifty dollars, letting him keep the change.
He finishes the drink right away and I pay the open tab, which includes all of my brother's drinks and take the glass to my mouth and take a sip, the flavour and burn of the drink bringing a weird sensation to my throat.
I lean against the bar, scan the club with my eyes to try and spot that sick fucker and try to cancel out the loud noises of the gross music that is playing.
What kind of stuff do people listen to nowadays? They should put on some Madonna because her songs are good but old style apparently for the people nowadays.
I feel a small tap on my shoulder and turn around, a woman standing in front of me. A rather beautiful one. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as she asks me to act like her fake what now?
“Hey, I don’t know you, you don’t know me but I need you to act like my boyfriend for a minute.”
“Excuse me?” I ask her, confused. Not only because she is demanding that I act like her boyfriend but also to the fact that there are a million guys she can ask around the club, but guess she won a weird bet and just came up to me.
“You are excused, now can you please help me.” She babbles, running her mouth with nonsense that makes no sense.
“What?” I asked her again. I am still confused as hell on why she approached me.
“Act like we are dating whoever you are.”
“You do know I am a stranger?” I remind her. She looks around the club, panic written all over face.
“I don’t care.” She tells me once again and keeps her gaze around the club, trying to find someone and when she does, the expression on her face grows with even more panic. She turns back to me and places her hand on my bicep, biting her inner check. She mumbles a low fuck before she turns to me and pulls me down to her, pressing her lips to mine.
I hesitate for a moment, confused on what I should do before I just go with the flow and lean in closer to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and she melts into me right away and her body moulds to mine as if she was made for me. My hands melt into her curves, before they start roaming all over her body, over every curve.
If I could describe an addiction, I would mention her because the way she knows how to work with her tongue and how she invades my nose with her lavender smell has my head spinning.
I lean back on the counter, wrapping my arm around her waist while the other is holding on to the counter. The taste of fruit lingers on her tongue and I dart my tongue in, getting the last taste of her.
The taste of the addictive fruit she has lingering on her tongue. The taste of watermelon mixed with a hint of mint on her tongue drove me crazy as it was so sweet and so burning on the tip of my tongue at the same time. I inhale deeply, the smell of her lavender perfume invades my nose, making it impossible to breath anything but her, and the combination of her taste and smell slowly drives me fucking crazy.
I never pull away until she does. She starts to pull from me but I pull her closer, not getting enough of her and wanting to have every taste of her. She moans into my mouth as she moves her head to the side, the sweet sound of her making the blood rush to my pants and making them unbelievably tight.
My hand drives through her soft brown hair, pulling her closer as I tighten my grip on her scalp.
Why does she taste so good and make me so damn crazy?
Who is she?
I never want to pull away, afraid I might lose the euphoric feeling of her tongue in my mouth. At least not until she breaks our moment and looks around, relief washing over her face as she realises the person she was looking at was gone.
“Well,” she takes a deep breath and looks back at me. “That was a successful mission. I hope at least.” She laughs awkwardly and weirdly enough I want to take a picture of that smile of hers and stick it to my brain so that I never forget it.
I chuckle, never breaking a smile. I cannot remember the last time I smiled this hard with a stranger.
Now that I can, I take my take to register her face in my brain. Brown eyes with full lashes that she bats at me and full lips where the red lipstick is smeared due to our make out session. Her hair slightly frizzed from my grip yet she looked so ethereal. She looks like a painting created by Michaelangelo, a gorgeous one, I might add.
“What’s your name?” I ask her and she hesitates for a moment if she should tell me or not, even though I just had my tongue down her throat. Her brown eyes shine under the disco light and her flawless tanned skin against mine sends electric shocks all over my body.
“Isa,” she whispers, before she starts laughing. Isa, I repeat in my mind, the sound of her name sounding like heaven to my mind.
“What’s so funny?”
She keeps laughing, looking away but keeps her one hand on my nape, a tingling sensation runs down my back at the moment of admiration and at the touch of her hand.
She is so beautiful.
Resembling a portrait at a museum that I could stare at forever.
“I forgot I have red lipstick on and it’s all over your lips.” She continues laughing as she wipes away the lipstick with the pad of her finger, my grip tightens on her waist, pulling her closer to me. The lipstick on her doesn’t look too good either. She looks like she was freshly kissed by a beast and the image of that is beautiful considering I made it. She takes a deep breath as if she can feel my erection growing in my pants on her stomach before she stops her action, running her hand down my face, down to my chest and taps on it twice before she asks, “What’s your name, dimples?” I raise an eyebrow at her at the spontaneous nickname and she challenges me back by raising her eyebrow at me, smiling mischievously.
“Gabriel,” I whisper loud enough only for her to hear. “And sweetheart, you might want to fix your own lipstick too because it doesn’t look so fresh anymore.” I told her.
She lets out a huff, smiling brightly at my comment. “Well, Gabriel,” my name coming out of her mouth makes me go crazy and the guy in my pants too. She loosens my arm on her waist, moving away from me. “It was a pleasure to meet you, I would also say ‘I owe you a favor in return’,” she laughs at her own joke, her feminine voice making the pants on me tighter than I wish them to be. “But we won’t probably see each other after today so, see you never again?” She questions the last sentence, she smiles brightly, taps me on my bicep twice leaving her trails behind and walks without another word.
“And what if we do see each other again?” I ask her before she is gone. she looks over her shoulder, scrunching her nose as she thinks of an answer.
“Act like you do not know me.” she offers.
A confused expression forms on my face and before I can ask her why, she has already started to walk away and blend into the crowd of hundreds of people.
It is not possible to forget her after I have set my eyes on her.
I groan in frustration when I lose her completely and turn back to the bartender and he looks at me with amusement as he finishes up some drinks. He hands me another glass of liquor. “On the house, I think you’ll need it.”
What you’ll need is a fist in your face.