Chapter Fourteen
Matteo
A year and a half ago
I ’ve been watching her for the past two hours, completely bewitched even though her face is hidden away behind a mask. I don’t need to see it to be entranced by her.
Not when I’ve already seen the way she laughs, head thrown back, open throated, and completely guileless. The way she bends over the bar as she orders tequila shots. The way she throws them back like they’re water, her only reaction when she bites into the lime wedge. The way her face scrunches up adorably and she jumps in place, shaking her head to lessen the sting. Not when I’ve seen the way she flirts with everybody. Man, woman, friend, asshole, everyone . They’re all on the receiving end of her coy looks, corner smiles, and lethal dance moves. Not when I’ve seen how she parks her hand on her hip when a man bumps into her friend before proceeding to bite his head off.
It’s everything and nothing all at once, but it’s her . Suddenly, on a Saturday in May when I least expect it, I get to live through the life-altering experience that is to be completely absorbed by someone at first glance.
No, not absorbed. Arrested.
Stopped cold in my steps—in my very existence —as if by a physical blow.
And I want her.
She has me spellbound and she doesn’t even know of my existence.
Yet.
“You’re going to catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that,” Enzo drawls, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Make a move. Or better yet, come with me. Graziela and Estella have been anxious to meet you.”
I throw a look over my shoulder at the cordoned off section where we’ve been sitting. Two girls wave coquettishly at me with their fingers, giggling behind their hands when I tip my chin back at them in response.
“No, thanks,” I tell my cousin, looking back down into the crowd and at her.
Enzo follows my gaze. “Are you going to do something? If you stay here any longer you might actually start to grow roots.”
“Rocco’s here tonight. You know I’m not going near anyone while he’s at Firenze . I won’t risk it.”
“Guido told me Rocco’s in a meeting. He’s been in that private room for hours now, I don’t think he’ll come out tonight.” Enzo tips his chin in the direction of the brunette. “We leave tomorrow, cugino . It’s now or never.”
This is my seventh time back in London since I left for Rome. I’ve made yearly trips to maintain the appearance of a good relationship with my father and brother.
They have no idea that I’ve been quietly planning my own coup. It needs to stay that way if I have any hope of it being successful, so every year I come for a couple of weeks to show my face, smile like nothing's wrong, shake their hands and pat their backs, and then I go home.
Enzo is right. It’s now or never.
There’s a weird tugging in my chest when I look down at her. The emotion is foreign, not one I’ve ever felt before, but one I want to investigate further.
I see her move through the crowd towards the stairs to the second floor where I am. The crowd seems to split willingly around her like the Red Sea parting for Moses. People stare as she walks past them and I know exactly why.
Even with her face covered, she’s a vision in a gold bustier dress with a corset that tightens her waist and pushes her breasts up appetizingly on her chest. Similarly colored bangles adorn her arms and gold body glitter covers her shoulders and collarbones.
Dozens, if not hundreds of feathers jut out from the back of her dress and beyond her shoulders, encircling her face like a wild crown. Her mask is beautiful and matches her dress perfectly. It covers only the top half of her face, leaving anyone’s gaze free to roam over her pouty lips. Identical feathers halo off the top of the mask, adding almost a foot of height to her and creating the effect of a beautiful headdress.
She is beautiful.
A unique vision in a crowd of people wearing standard Carnivale masks, she shines as brightly as the animal she’s embraced tonight.
A peacock.
My pavona .
???
Valentina
Adri leans into me and yells so I can hear her over the music. “I can feel my buzz wearing off. I think it’s time for another round of shots.”
I laugh, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her close. “I’m glad you’re having fun!”
“Well, I hate to say it, but you were right. This theme is everything. And I don’t mean to be competitive, but our dresses blow everyone else's out of the water.”
I grab her hand and raise it above her head, forcing her to twirl for me. “You look magnificent. I’ve seen no less than five guys fall in love with you tonight.”
Her hands find my hips as we sway to the music, giggling the whole time. “With me ? Leni, that one guy at the bar forgot the mechanics of swallowing when you smiled at him. I saw half his beer drool down his chin.”
“Yes, that wasn’t the most attractive thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
She nudges my shoulder with hers. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t someone else you can have some fun with. There’s no shortage of guys wanting your attention.”
“Meh,” I say, waving dismissively. “No one who’s made me feel anything. No one clever or interesting enough yet.”
“That’s true.” Adri sighs. “The butterfly pick-up lines are getting a little old.”
“Really?” I tease. “Personally, I thought that one guy who opened with ‘ are you in my stomach? Because you’re giving me butterflies’ was onto something.”
“Leni.”
“No? It was better than the weirdo who said he was willing to ‘drown in your sweet nectar ’.”
She drops her head in her hands. “The flirting bar is in hell ,” she groans. “Which, coincidentally, is also where I’ve left my patience.”
I laugh again, releasing her as I scan the area for a bathroom. “I desperately need to pee. Want to come with?”
“A tempting offer, but I’ll pass. Go without me, I’ll find someone to buy us some shots in the meantime.” She scans the crowd, her eyes settling on a random guy at the bar. “If you hear a scream, don’t panic. It’s just me reacting to yet another man whispering ‘do you know butterflies taste with their feet? How about I taste yours instead? ’ in my ear.”
I grimace. “Another…?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and holds up two fingers. “Twice already.”
“Ouch.”
“Yup.”
“Hey,” I add. “If that’s what it takes to get free shots…”
“You’re right.” A determined look crosses her face. “It’s for the cause.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Okay, shoo. Go to the bathroom. Good luck peeing in that dress. Let me know how it goes.”
I groan as I walk away. “I’ve been dreading it all night.”
“I believe in you!” she calls after me.
I raise a thumbs up without looking back, without getting one last look at her, and head for the stairs. When I make it to the second floor, the back of my neck tingles and awareness flares through me. I whip around but there’s no one there, nothing but the shadows staring back at me.
Slightly disconcerted, I head down one of the hallways in search of the VIP bathrooms. Adri and I have bands to grant us access to the area, but we’ve stayed on the main dance floor so far. That’s where all the fun is, fueled by the maddening and electric energy of the crowd.
Off to my left, I see an ornate golden sign indicating the women’s bathroom. When I walk in, I notice a woman bent slightly over the sink, applying red lipstick in the mirror. She’s heartrendingly beautiful in an elfin kind of way, with blonde hair naturally so pale it looks almost white, and equally light skin. She’s petite and model thin, wearing a red Venetian ball gown and looking every inch the porcelain doll. Her traditional Carnivale mask rests on the counter next to the sink.
Large gray eyes meet mine in the mirror and widen when they see me. She spins around, her expression turning impish and her eyes shining with mischievousness as she rakes them down my body.
“I absolutely love your dress,” she says in an American accent. “You look like a hot, powerful Greek goddess.” Tilting her head, she asks. “Can I touch it?”
Her energy is infectious. There’s no resisting the smile that stretches across my face in response. “Of course you can.” I close the distance between us. “I’ll warn you, it’s not all glamorous. I nearly poked my eye out with one of these feathers earlier.”
“Beauty is pain, I guess.” Laughing delightedly, she strokes the many feathers affixed to my dress in awe. “I’m very jealous. I’m a designer and I can only hope to make something this beautiful one day.”
“Are you really?” I reach behind my head and untie the knot holding my mask up, removing it with a happy sigh. “That’s amazing. Do you specialize in costumes?”
“No, mostly wedding dresses for now, but I want to diversify. Life’s too short to just do one thing.” She smiles when my mask comes off. “Now that we’ve seen each other’s faces, I think we can officially be introduced.” She extends a hand to me. “I’m Dagny.”
Taking it, I say, “Valentina. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
As I head for one of the stalls, I pause and turn back around. “Don’t freak out if you hear groaning and some potentially undignified cursing, it’s just me trying to maneuver around this dress.”
Dagny grins. “Thanks for the heads up, I’ll refrain from calling the authorities.”
I give her a grateful thank you and head back into the stall. When I come out, a few of the feathers look a little disheveled and the worse for wear, but overall the dress is intact.
“Mission accomplished?” Dagny asks, looking at me through the mirror.
“Mission accomplished.”
“The dress is beautiful and functional. That’s doubly impressive.”
“You know, I liked it before I met you, but knowing that a fashion designer approves of it makes me love it even more. So thank you.”
She smiles and digs into her purse, handing me a card. “Here. I know it’s old fashioned but I have business cards. Don’t judge me. Keep my number if you ever get married and need a dress. Or if you just want a new friend.”
“I’m very far from needing the first, but always looking for the second. Thank you, I’ll give you a call. My sister and I are only here for a few more days, but maybe we can squeeze in a lunch.”
“I’d love that.”
Dagny watches me as I wash my hands, then digs through her purse once more, coming up with a cylindrical tube.
“You should try this on.” She hands me the lipstick. “This color would look fantastic with your dress and skin tone. Plus it’s cherry flavored so, if nothing else, it’s just plain fun.”
I lean over the sink and apply the lipstick, smacking my lips together a couple of times before turning towards her and pouting playfully.
“How does it look?”
“Like it belongs on you,” she answers, clapping happily. “I knew it would look great. I’m never wrong, you know.”
I laugh at her confidence. “You’ll get along great with Adri.” I try to hand the lipstick back but she waves me off.
“Keep it. It looks better on you than it does on me.”
“I couldn’t possibly—”
“Yes, you can. And if you really feel like you can’t, then buy me a latte or something when we meet up for lunch.”
“I will.” With a smile, I tell her. “I have to go, but it was great meeting you. I’ll see you soon?”
She waves. “Bye, Valentina.”
I head out with the lipstick and her card clutched in my hand and a bright smile on my face, excited for future plans with a new friend. Adriana is going to love Dagny, I’m sure of it. They have similar energies.
I push the door open with a decided shove and stalk out just as I realize I’ve forgotten my mask. My brain fires a signal to my body to turn around and go get it. The result of the conflicting directions has my legs tangling with each other and me tripping over my own feet.
Before I know it, I’m hurtling towards the floor. My eyes close as I brace myself for the inevitable pain of the fall. When my shoulder hits the surface, it’s much softer than I expected.
Much warmer too.
It’s only when thick arms close around my waist and pull me into a broad chest, that I realize I haven’t actually hit the floor.
My eyes open and a breathy gasp falls from my lips when I find myself staring up into a face partially obscured by a mask resembling the one from the Phantom of the Opera , except with more coverage.
Dark eyes shine down at me beneath it. The dimness of the hallway adds an element of mystery, the infrequent strobe lights from the main area intermittently piercing the darkness and highlighting what few features of his I can see. Curved, full lips center a straight, chiseled jaw, his mouth tipped at the corners in a confident smirk at me.
He holds me inches off the floor, his body extended in a partial lunge, his torso bent over me. Warmth blooms in my stomach at the way his eyes stare unwaveringly down at me. His nostrils flare in a primal, predatory display as he inhales me. My pulse goes through the roof in response and an aching tension curls itself around my organs.
There’s a strain in his voice when he speaks, his words sending a powerful rush of heat through me.
“You sure know how to make an entrance.”
???
Matteo
With one look, I’m gone.
The air itself shifts, the world spins a little slower, and the space between my heartbeat stretches.
Seeing her face for the first time does something incomprehensible to my insides, twisting and turning them every which way.
High cheekbones sit beneath hazel eyes with hints of green that disappear and reappear under different kinds of light. She has thick eyebrows, bronzed skin and a mass of hair I need wrapped around my fist immediately.
She’s more gorgeous than my imagination could have ever conjured. Beauty like hers exists only in the minds of master artists tasked with translating her splendor on canvas for the ordinary masses to gaze upon in awe.
But she’s no Venus or Aphrodite. She’s real .
She fits perfectly in my arms. I would never have said that previous women didn’t fit but now that I hold her, I realize what it feels like when it feels right.
It’s different because now I know how it feels to hold the person who belongs there. The certainty that burrows into my bones that she’s meant to be in my arms is instantaneous.
“What can I say, I’m desperate for attention,” she quips, plush lips now painted an appetizing color of red since the last time I saw her.
“You’ve got mine, cara mia . You’ve had it from the moment you walked into this club.”
She startles, her eyes widening. “Really?” She looks coyly up at me from beneath her lashes. “What will your attention get me?”
I push her up against the wall and flatten my palms to either side of her. A smug grin appears on my lips at her suggestive tone. “My undying devotion, naturally.”
“And what am I supposed to do with a masked stranger’s undying devotion?”
A low hum sounds in my throat. “Someone as dangerous as you could use it to bring me to my knees.”
“Dangerous?” She laughs. The sound suggests she’s well aware of the effect she has on men. “I’m just a girl, I’m hardly dangerous. You’re the one still hiding your face.”
“There’s nothing more dangerous than a beautiful woman,” I rumble. “And you, cara , are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
An enticing blush heats her cheeks. “Smooth.”
A grin curves my lips. “I thought so.”
“Do you come on this strong to every girl you hit on? Or are you simply method acting your character tonight, Phantom?”
I trace the line of her jaw with the back of my finger. “It’s no act. Although the depths of the Phantom’s obsession with Christine never made sense to me. Not until now.” I’m mesmerized by the almost imperceptible tremble of her lower lip in response to my touch. “I only have tonight.” My voice is hoarse. Rough. Desperate. “I’m going back to Rome tomorrow.”
She pouts, popping those red lips out at me and inadvertently causing my hard cock to jerk in my costume.
“That’s too bad.”
“The night isn’t over just yet, cara , and I’m very much in the mood for a little danger.”
Her hands flatten on my chest and she runs them seductively up my torso. “What kind?”
“The kind where I do things to you that are still illegal in most parts of the world.” Cupping her chin, I brush my thumb softly over her bottom lip. “These weren’t red when you were downstairs.”
She smiles sultrily. “No, they weren’t. I was hoping someone would prove their undying devotion to me by appreciating them.”
I feel my pupils dilate as I stare at her mouth. “I’m appreciating them alright.”
“What’s your favorite fruit?”
I quirk a brow at her. “Clementines during the winter,” I answer. “And during the summer, I’d say it’s between blueberries and cherries.”
“How fortuitous.”
“What is?”
“My lipstick.” She smacks her lips invitingly at me. “It’s cherry flavored.”
With a groan, I bury my hand in her hair, angle her head back and crash my mouth down to hers. Cherry explodes sweet and tangy on my tongue. Lust flares hotly in my blood as our tongues tangle. Her hands rove greedily over my body, as desperate for me as I am for her.
I grab the back of her thighs and hoist her up into my arms, slamming her against the wall and trapping her beneath my body. She writhes happily into me, her legs wrapping around my waist and tightening. I nearly explode on the spot when she rubs her aching pussy against my lower stomach.
There’s nothing sensual about this kiss. It’s a carnal attack steeped in desperation and cherry-flavored ecstasy, and it drives me absolutely fucking wild. Snarling groans of pleasure rip from my lips and fall into her waiting mouth. She eats everything I give her up, her tongue meeting mine stroke for stroke as her hands close around the sides of my face as she arches into me. She rocks her hips into me avidly, her moans nearly feral when I grab her ass. I dig my fingers into her flesh and use it to drag her against my hard cock. A gasp tears from her throat at the contact, and she hesitates for only a moment before she rubs against me with feverish strokes.
This thing between us is explosive, needing only a lit match to be fully combustible. Every touch of hers is a challenge, an instigation, an elevation to drive us higher, faster.
After a couple more minutes of frantic, chaotic kissing, she presses against my chest softly and pulls her mouth away. Air isn’t worth the loss of her lips on mine so I go in search of more, but she stops me. Shimmying her hips slightly, she slides down my body until she’s back on her feet.
“So?” she asks between ragged breaths. “Do I taste like cherry?”
“No,” I growl. “You taste like mine.”
Her eyes darken even as a smirk lifts the corner of her lips. “A little early to make that call, don’t you think?”
I shake my head slowly, my eyelids turning heavy. “It was too late for you the moment you let me lay eyes on you.”
“I could hardly stop you from doing so.”
“No. And you won’t be able to stop this either.”
“This?”
“Us.”
Crushing my mouth back down against hers, I swallow any protest she may try to utter.
I don’t want to hear it.
Her fingers clutch desperately at my hair as she kisses me. Then she’s threading her hand through it and yanking my head back. A menacing growl rolls up my throat and my lip curls back in a snarl.
“Maybe we should stop,” she gasps.
“I can’t,” I breathe, nipping at her neck in warning. “Now I understand what Adam must have felt like when he was lured in by that ripe apple, driven to despair for a taste of it.” My gaze drops to her swollen lips. “You’re my very own forbidden fruit, cara mia , and kissing you is like giving in to the original sin. I should be strong enough to resist, I should stay away, but I can’t. I won’t.”
Fresh lust explodes behind her eyes and then she’s reaching for me, wrapping her arms around my neck and climbing me like a tree, her mouth greedily searching for mine.
It’s not enough. Having my mouth on her isn’t anywhere near enough, but fighting through her dress feels like fighting off a dozen angry birds.
“How much do you care about this dress, cara ?” I mutter against her ear.
“A lot.”
Fuck .
“Rip it,” she says.
“What?”
She makes an adorably angry little noise at my mouth being pulled away from hers. “If it’s in the way, then rip it now. Please .”
My brows drop and an insolent smile stretches across my lips. She slams her mouth back down on mine as I fist a bunch of feathers and yank them off her dress. She moans into my mouth, clearly getting off on the aggression. It fuels my arousal to new heights. I’m not violent, but fuck do I like it rough in the bedroom and if she’s game…
I fist her hair next and yank it, testing her reaction to the bite of pain. When her eyes roll back and her lips part on a strangled groan, I dive in for her throat. I lick and I suck and I bite at every available inch of her while my other hand slips beneath the hem of her dress and up her thigh.
Her legs tighten around me as my fingers trail up her inner thigh and to her wet center. Her lips part against my mouth, her eyes opening to find mine fixed on her. When my thumb brushes down her covered slit, she gasps into my mouth.
I swallow the sound greedily, sucking her lower lip between mine, grazing at it with my teeth as my fingers dip beneath her panties and trail down her soaking pussy.
“You kiss like a goddamn animal, cara . Like sex on legs, fucking my mouth with yours like that. I can’t wait to drag you back to my hotel. I’m going to bury my cock inside you and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”
An adorable, sexually frustrated frown creases her brow. “I don’t even know what you look like.”
I want nothing more than to have no barriers between us but I’m not removing the mask anywhere Rocco can come upon us.
“You will soon enough. In the meantime, you can come on this faceless stranger’s fingers.”
Her pupils dilate, her eyes darkening at my roughly whispered filthy words. They widen in shock when I press my middle finger into her tight channel, pushing in until it’s completely buried inside her.
“ Mierda ,” she moans, head tilting back against the wall.
Her pussy spasms around my finger, her walls attempting to clutch me greedily. I’m mesmerized by the open column of her throat, by the way she swallows with obvious difficulty as I curl my finger and brush against that sensitive spot deep inside her.
Her breath hitches on her lips when I pull back, then expels loudly from her lungs when I push back in with a second finger. Her chin drops, and wide eyes the color of forests in late fall find mine with a hint of panic in them.
“Been a while since anyone’s had their fingers in your tight cunt?” I hear myself growl.
She nods, speechless, jerking against me when I thrust my fingers until they bottom inside her. Her eyes cloud with desire when she sees my answering smirk.
“Good.”
Strangled moans mixed with muttered curses fall incoherently from her lips and she buries her face in my neck. Her mouth closes around the skin at the base of my throat, drawing a matching groan from the depths of my chest. This is pure animal attraction, there’s no other way to describe the frenzied, primal connection between us.
She jerks against me with every stroke of my fingers inside her, every bounce rubbing against the hard length of my cock until I’m panting as loudly as she is.
If I’d left without tasting her, I would have lived with that unfulfilled need forever, with that absence of… something . With being able to recognize the absence was there but incapable of describing and defining it because I’d have gone without it. Now I know exactly what I would have missed and I intend to fulfill that need tonight.
Thank fucking god I didn’t stay away.
She tenses around me, tightening around my unrelenting thrusts. I keep driving inside, my fingers ruthless in their demand of her orgasm.
“More,” she gasps.
“More, cara ?” I chuckle. “Are you always this greedy?”
She nods mindlessly, lost to her pleasure. Tilting my head towards her, I nip at her lobe, grazing the words into her ear. “Good thing I’m a giver.”
A disappointed whine leaves her lips when I set her on the floor, morphing into a surprised gasp when I lower down to my knees. It finishes as a delighted gasp when I lick a line from where my fingers are still buried inside her up her slit, closing my lips around her swollen clit and sucking it into my mouth.
Her hands grasp at my hair, completely disheveling me. She arches her hips into my face and I growl happily into her skin. The vibrations against her clit send a delirious shiver up her entire body and then she’s freezing. It’s like she’s caught in a moment, body splayed wantonly against the wall, mouth parted in pure pleasure, eyes squeezed closed.
I barely have time to slap my free hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds that come barreling out of her before she explodes all over my fingers. The music is deafening and would easily cover her screams if someone came down the hall right now. That’s exactly why I stifle them—the first time I hear her screams, I need to be able to hear every note, every nuance, every ragged inflection as she falls apart for me. Not some half muted imitation of the real thing.
Her body thrashes as aftershocks roll through her, stimulated by my mouth still clamped down on her clit. She slumps bonelessly as I stand. I catch her against my chest.
My hand curls around the back of her neck and I angle her face up. Her eyes peel open, dazed and slow to focus. The pupil contracts lazily, unhurriedly revealing the bewitching hazel color of her irises.
My fingers stroke her temple. “You know what I was thinking about when I was watching you dance?”
“How does she move her hips like that?” she quips, leaning into me.
I huff out a laugh, fingers moving softly down her cheek. “What your hair would look like splayed out on my pillow. I’m excited to find out.”
The prettiest blush I’ve ever seen bursts to life on her cheeks, making me groan.
Two things happen simultaneously.
Enzo calls my name, drawing my attention to him at the end of the hallway.
And when I look back at her, her eyes have widened, the haze of lust has receded and reality has set in.
With a frown, I turn back towards Enzo. “What is it?”
“He finished his meeting ten minutes ago,” he answers pointedly.
Which means Rocco could be roaming the halls as we speak, in search of some sadistic diversion to distract himself with. I nod in acknowledgment and he disappears.
Righting her dress and panties, I step away at the same time as she pushes gently against my chest.
“I have to go, cara .”
“Me too. I– My friend. I came here with my friend, I can’t believe I…” She looks around, a frazzled expression on her face. “She’ll be wondering where I am.”
I just manage to catch her wrist between my fingers before she walks off. When she turns, her eyes snag on where I clutch her arm and move down to where I slide a keycard into her palm.
“Raffles Hotel. I’m in the penthouse. Meet me there in an hour once you’ve said goodnight to your friend.”
A conflicted look crosses her face. I pull at her wrist gently, tugging her closer to me. She doesn’t resist, letting herself be drawn back into my orbit as her eyes soften. Her expression is open and trusting and it does something unruly to my insides because, where I’m from, no one looks at anybody like that. Hatred, pain, fear, disgust, I know all too well, but uncorrupted innocence and guileless faith?
Foreign as fuck to me.
“I'm going home tomorrow.” My fingers squeeze, digging desperately into her skin. “Don’t make me leave the country without another taste of you.”
Her eyes search mine. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
She traces her thumb over the edge of the white mask, her gaze tracking the movement.
“No mask.”
A slow smirk tugs at my lips. “I plan on being smothered between your thighs within thirty seconds of you joining me, and you can’t very well ride my face if I have a mask on. Consider it done.”
Her face turns a violent shade of crimson, but the look in her eye? Pure anticipation.
She stops me when I reach for the tie at the back of the mask. “Not now. Keep the surprise for later, Phantom.”
“You know he was horribly disfigured, right?”
She shrugs. “Scars don’t scare me.”
I chortle softly. “Noted.”
Reluctantly, I release her wrist. Her arm drops to her side, her hand clutching the keycard, and she heads down the opposite end of the hallway.
At the top of the stairs, she glances over her shoulder back at me. My heart clenches violently in my chest as a smile bursts slowly to life across her features.
“You’re going to completely ruin my life, aren't you?”
The honesty in my tone sinks beneath her skin. Her eyes go between mine and I feel an invisible, irrational thread weave between us.
She bites her lip, tilting her head slightly. “I think I’d like an opportunity to try.”
The connection is completely illogical. So strong and yet born of nothing.
“Bye, Phantom,” she calls.
She bounces down the stairs without waiting for an answer and I realize she never gave me her name.
“Bye, pavona .”
She’s already gone.
???
Valentina
It was one conversation. That’s it. Okay, it was a little more than that, but all in all it was just one interaction. I don’t even know his name or what he looks like. He very well could be a murderer.
And yet, my skin is hot and tingly, the parts of my body that he touched are singing, and my veins feel like they’re on fire.
Deadly, destructive, fire .
I rush down the steps with one objective in mind: finding Adriana and telling her every single incredibly mind-blowing and salacious detail of the last… I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone. Ten minutes? Fifteen? Fifty?
She’s going to murder me for abandoning her, rightfully so. But then she’ll resurrect me when I tell her about the hopefully gorgeous stranger with the sex god mouth who kissed me like his very life depended on it and toyed perversely with my clit until I came in public.
My face flames until I’m sure the temperature of my skin rivals that of the sun. I wouldn’t call myself a prude, but I can’t say I’ve ever had a man who I met five minutes prior on his knees with his tongue lapping at my pussy in the middle of a club where anyone could come upon us.
Adriana’s going to die.
I’ve misplaced my mask and I don’t even care, because Adriana’s going to die when she hears about this.
I’m itching to follow him back to his hotel, although a nameless ache hollows out an area in my chest when I remember that he’s leaving tomorrow. Annoyance with myself is quick to follow. I’m also heading home in a few days. There’s no use leaving any space for such pointless, impractical emotions to grow.
And yet the ache still remains, confoundingly bothersome and impossible to shake.
My trembling hand lifts to brush over my still tingling lips, my fingers rendered giddy by the mix of excitement and disbelief continuing to buzz through my veins.
When I reach the main floor, I head straight for the place I last saw Adri. The crowd has shifted so I don’t immediately spot her. I didn’t get a good look at the man she’d intended to flirt out of a couple shots, so I can’t tell if he’s here either. She’s probably on the other side of the bar, chatting up some poor bartender slash aspiring musician about some recently discovered plant-fungal interaction.
She’s not there either. Maybe she found herself her very own masked Phantom and is also getting seduced in the shadowy corridors of Firenze . The bartenders shake their heads when I ask if they’ve seen her, barely paying attention to me with the crush of customers descending on them.
So I wait. I take a seat on a fortuitously empty stool and I wait for her to come back, excitement making me antsy in my seat.
When ten minutes trickle by, the excitement wanes to nervousness. I pick at the hem of my dress, checking my phone to see if she’s answered any of my texts.
When another fifteen minutes go by, my nerves morph into worry. By the time the clock strikes the hour mark, panic has replaced the worry and turned my stomach over. Hysteria is clawing at my throat and I’m no longer seated. I’m rampaging through Firenze , screaming shrilly for my sister, demanding security get involved, and shoving at them when they tell me she must have gone home without me before proceeding to throw me out of the club.
Maybe she’s in the midst of the hottest makeout sesh of all time. Maybe she downed all the tequila shots herself and passed out somewhere on one of Firenze ’s comfortable velvet chairs. Maybe she grew tired of waiting for me and really did go home. I wasn’t gone that long though, but maybe .
Not maybe, I fucking hope so.
Because I can’t face the alternative.
I take my heels off and run home. It’s forty minutes away on foot, longer when barefoot. It would be faster to just take the Tube but I’m devoid of rational thought. Sheer terror thumps in my chest, barrels down the walls of my mind, and fuels me down those empty streets until my feet are bleeding and I’m back at our Airbnb.
But Adriana isn’t.
She’s nowhere to be found.
She never comes back.
It’s while I’m standing in our suddenly unbearably quiet living room, earlier scenes of us laughing insouciantly flashing unbidden through my mind like my own curated torture reel, that I take detached notice of the exact moment my soul dies.
It’s all my fault.
???
Matteo
She doesn’t show.
She doesn’t fucking show .