Chapter 8
Saturday night comes around fast. Thanks to the collection of wine Daniel had stashed in the spare bedroom of our apartment, I’m drunk before we even cross the red rope the bouncer at the door so graciously holds open so that Anna and I can stumble our way inside.
Daniel would be horrified if he saw how Anna and I threw back glass after glass of the expensive drop while singing along to Taylor Swift and doing each other’s hair, but honestly?
Knowing that made it taste that much sweeter.
The club is vibing as we beeline straight through the sweaty, compact mass of people towards the centre of the dance floor.
The music is so loud it sends vibrations up my legs and flashing lights threaten to blind me before I close my eyes and lose myself to the dance song that’s blasting through the speakers.
Anna does the same in front of me. I love to dance, to get lost in whatever song is playing and shut off my mind, letting my body take over.
I’ve come to rely on my nights out with Anna as a kind of therapy.
We shake our butts to the music, and I’d guess an hour passes before Anna signals that she needs a drink, grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd to find the closest bar.
Sweat coats my skin. My hair, which I left down and straight, sticks to the back of my neck like cling wrap as I fan my face with my free hand.
We find a small opening at the bar and dump our purses on top of the sticky counter, the heady smell of spirits and beer burning my nostrils. Anna tries to flag down one of the many bartenders that clearly have their work cut out for them tonight.
“I love this club!” I yell in the general direction of Anna’s ear as I turn and lean back against the bar, taking in the crowd before me.
I can barely hear my own voice over the sound of the music, but Anna looks sideways at me with a huge grin on her face.
Her honey-coloured hair clings to her shoulders much the same as mine and her cheeks are flushed and glowing with excited exertion.
“Me too! Shots?”
I nod at her with a grin and turn back to the dance floor.
The club has two storeys. The second storey is a mezzanine, for what I assume is VIP members, that overlooks the dance floor.
My eyes gloss over the decadent leather and velvet upholstery, crystal chandeliers and black-mirrored walls of the upper-class nightclub as I wobble slightly on my sky-high stilettos.
Maybe shots aren’t the best idea for my already drunk ass, but getting wasted was a foregone conclusion from the moment Anna called me Thursday.
Just for a moment, I need a distraction from the train wreck that is my life.
Anna, who whole-heartedly agreed with ‘Operation DrunkGate’ after I told her whose office I landed in on Thursday, finally captures a bartender and orders four wet pussies.
Far out. Ubriaca, indeed.
“Hopefully that’ll be five wet pussy’s before the end of the night,” a gravelly voice says into my ear, making me jolt and turn to face the man that’s appeared beside me.
I notice he’s clean-cut and attractive with styled dark brown hair, straight white teeth and a beauty spot just above his full lips that most women would kill for.
If only his pick-up lines were as charming as his face.
“Gross.” I wrinkle my nose up at him. Alcohol for me is like taking a shot of veritaserum. The truth just comes flying out of my mouth.
The man’s grin widens.
“Sorry, I admit that was appalling but it was just too good to pass over,” he half-yells into my ear with a deep laugh, and I let out a very unlady-like snort as I meet his soft brown eyes.
In this lighting, with his dark features, he sort of looks like a watered-down, less attractive version of David.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Am I doomed to compare every man I meet to that beautiful bastard?
“Fine. I’ll give you that one pass,” I say, holding up a single finger in front of his face. “Now don’t ever say the word pussy to me again.”
“Deal.” He holds out his large hand with mock seriousness and I take it, feeling his warm fingers wrap around mine as we shake on it. “Now that’s settled, what’s your name?”
I eye the guy appreciatively. Under different circumstances he would be my type. However, I decided after my run-in with David I’m not going to touch another man until I’m at least divorced. No need to add to the current shit show that is my love life. I’m just here to have fun with my best friend.
I take my hand out of his just as Anna butts in from behind me. “Her name is Gianna! Isn’t she gorgeous?”
I elbow Anna in the ribs as I grab a shot and turn to lean back against the bar.
“She is indeed,” he responds, leaning into me so his chest is pressed up against my shoulder. He presses his next words into my ear. “Wanna dance?”
I tip the glass to my lips and have every intention of telling this guy that yes I do want to dance, just not with him, when I cast my eyes up over the mezzanine balcony and almost choke on the shot as it glides down my throat.
My gaze meets black. Up in the VIP section, leaning against the rails, is David.
He stares straight down at me, looking as devastatingly beautiful as ever.
What the hell is he doing here?
Now I know I’m drunk, but I can’t even use that as an excuse for the way my heartbeat dips between my legs at the sight of him.
David in a suit is utter perfection. David in a fitted black shirt and jeans?
Fucking mouth-watering. My skin starts firing off sparks of electricity as I watch his gaze slowly rake down my body, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the shimmery-gold mini dress that barely grazes the top of my thighs.
The guy next to me slides a hand around my waist, and it may be a trick of the light, but I swear David’s gaze turns ice cold as he tracks the movement.
I’m about to shake off the man’s touch when a tall blonde in a tight red dress sidles up to David and drapes an arm over his shoulders. She looks like a model, and I can’t help the acidic burn that spreads in my gut.
Is she another escort? Did he come here with her? Is he going to leave with her?
My hand finds my chest, rubbing away a sudden bout of heartburn.
She’s the type of woman I would envision with David, I think bitterly as my shot starts to come back up my throat.
One who looks like a Victoria’s Secret model with legs that last for days.
David’s cold eyes flick back up to meet mine, sending what feels like an electric shock to my heart.
Anna obliviously shoves another shot in my hand.
Fuck it.
I down the shot while holding David’s frosty gaze.
Then I grab the man’s hand from my waist and pull him back through the mass of people to the dance floor, feeling the heat of David’s eyes on me the whole time.
Anna whoops from beside me, no doubt ecstatic that I’ve already broken my ‘no more men’ rule less than twenty-four hours after making it, but I couldn’t give two shits right now. What’s the harm in a little dancing?
Somewhere deep down I know that I wouldn’t be doing this if my blood hadn’t been practically replaced with alcohol.
I’m dancing with a man purely to try forget another, but it feels too damn good to stop.
I move my hips to the music, not daring to look back to the balcony to see if a certain someone is still watching.
I’m careful not to rub my ass too close to the man behind me, but it seems he doesn’t get the memo as he settles his hands around my waist and slowly, as the song progresses, presses firmer into my back until he’s grinding into me from behind.
The crowd is too condensed for me to step away from him, and a growing sense of unease builds under my skin.
I’m not leaving with anyone tonight, and the way he’s pressed up against me makes me believe he doesn’t have the same qualms. My will-power cracks and I look up towards the balcony where I last left David glaring at me.
He’s gone. So is the blonde.
A sick feeling creeps up my throat. Did they leave together?
The urge to escape this dance floor and this handsy guy becomes overwhelming. I grab Anna by the shoulders and hitch my head towards the entrance of the club. Thankfully Anna catches on immediately and grabs my hand, pulling me, but the man’s hands tighten around my waist.
“Where you going, huh?” He says into my ear, grinding into me harder, and my heart lurches into my throat. I throw what I hope is a subdued smile back over my shoulder at him, but I can’t be sure because the music seems to be getting louder and louder in my head, to the point of distraction.
“Bathroom,” I lie. “Be right back.” He releases my waist and I follow Anna through the crowd, and my shoulders sag with relief as we make our way around the outside edge of the dance floor.
My head is spinning now as the effects of those last two shots kick-in, and I know it’s time to get home before the contents of my stomach make a re-appearance.
“You don’t look great,” Anna’s two heads say as they swim in front of my vision. She leans in closer to look me in the eyes, but I can’t focus. Shit, this isn’t good.
“I don’t feel great.” My words are slurred and I fight to stop my eyelids from drooping. Exhaustion comes out of nowhere and covers me like a weighted blanket. Anna’s hand grips my elbow, and she tries to lead me to the exit. “Let’s get you out in to the fresh air.”
I stumble after her, but a sharp tug on my dress pulls me back, releasing me from Anna’s grip.
I’m whipped around until my front slams up against a firm chest and a forearm presses into my back, keeping me in place, and if I’m honest, upright.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I recognise the guy’s voice from the dance floor, but I can’t see his face as he holds me firmly in place, my gaze level with his throat.
“Let her go. We’re leaving,” Anna says from behind me, and even though I’m drunk, the edge of panic I detect in her voice makes my heart rate kick up a notch.
“She doesn’t want to leave. Do you, babe?” The man asks, his hot breath whispering at the top of my head as he speaks into my hair. “We were having fun.”
I push weakly against his chest. “No, I need to go,” I think I say, but I can’t be sure as my words come out even more slurred than before.
My head spins like a top and I sink my weight further against his chest until he’s practically carrying me.
Something is wrong. I know I drank a lot, but I’ve never lost sensation in my legs before.
“See? She wants to stay. She’s practically throwing herself at me.”
No. No, I want to leave, Anna.
“Let her go!” Anna’s yelling now. Her hand grips my shoulder and she pulls, but the man’s hold on me tightens. Then the jerking stops and Anna’s hand falls from my shoulder as a voice cuts through her screams.
“I suggest you release her right now.”
The new voice is deep. Smooth. Commanding.
It somehow calms my pounding heart.
David.
“And who the fuck are you?” I feel the rumble of the man’s chest against my cheek as he speaks, but I can’t lift my head up to see what’s going on.
“Your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t let her go,” David says, and even though his voice remains low and calm, a promise of violence is evident in his words.
“Don’t think so, mate. This one’s mine. Go find your own.”
“What I think I’ll go find,” David drawls, his voice growing louder as he moves closer, “is the owner of this club, who happens to be my friend.” He’s right beside me now. “And I’ll request the video footage he will no doubt have of you slipping something into this woman’s drink.”
My stomach bottoms out. I was drugged?
The fact that I can’t move my legs all but confirms it.
The man’s arms loosen around me as I hear Anna’s gasp from somewhere close. “You fucking asshole!” she growls. “You’re so fucking dead! I’m calling the cops!”
The man’s hold on me grows weak, then he shoves me away, my body like a rag doll until I collide with another hard surface.
A pair of strong arms wrap around me, holding me in place.
A familiar, comforting scent touches my nose, and I know that as my head lolls back, without a doubt, I’m in David’s grasp.
“He’s getting away!” Anna yells from beside me, but the cold promise from David is the last thing I hear before the darkness takes me.
“He isn’t getting away with anything.”