The music pounded in her ears, so loud it felt like the speakers were drumming in sync with her brain and heart. If it weren't for the decent music taste, she might've shot the DJ dead for the torture of the volume.
Chiara hated clubs on weekends. Too crowded, and too suffocating. The stench of sweat was heavy in the air, making her want to puke.
If it were not for her selfishness, she'd be long passed out in bed by now.
She slid the empty glass across the bar, signaling for a refill while scrolling through the guest list on her phone. Tonight, she wishes to be wasted. But not until she got what she came for.
"There you go, lady," the bartender said, sliding the drink towards her. She grabbed it and downed it in one go, squinting and groaning as the burn hit the right spot. Fucking four horsemen. You are the man! She said inwardly.
Her head bounced to the beat. "Bourbon on the rocks," a voice said beside her. "Coming right up, sir!" the bartender replied, already reaching for the bottle.
"Never thought I'd see the day." The man uttered a word, causing her to take a slow turn. A scoff escaped her when her eyes settled on a tall good-looking piece of shit, just a seat away from her.
"The feeling is mutual." She said and kept scrolling, ignoring his presence.
Then, her eyes locked onto a certain name. Her brows furrowed. Slowly, she turned to the man beside her, glanced at her phone, and then back at him. Their last encounter wasn't friendly at all. Who dared to add this man to her event guest list?
Something shifted in the air. His eyes pierced through her as if he could burn her into ashes with just a look. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, she wasn't scared. Not one bit.
"Who did that to you?" he asked. Her frown deepened until realization hit her.
Oh. Right.
How could she forget she had a purple mark decorating her cheek? A reward for what she did to Enzo the other day. Also, for exposing Antonio's little secret. Now, Enzo knew that she wasn't his biological daughter. Which was great news to her.
She leaned against the bar, holding his gaze. Those endless black depths. One could get lost in them and never be found again. "Why?"
A smile tugged at her lips. She set down the empty glass. "Do you want one of these?" she asked, tapping at her bruised cheek with her index finger. "I'll be more than happy to give it to you."
He got up from his seat, slowly like a predator after its prey. He covered the nonsensical distance between them in the blink of an eye. Then he leaned in, and she backed up, her hands gripping the stool, breath caught, and eyes widening.
Wait a damn minute...
Was he examining my bruise? What the hell would he do that for? And why was he all over my air? Contamination! She screamed in her mind.
Her heart pounded as his cologne invaded her senses, making it unable to break free as though he had enchanted her.
He raised his hand towards her. Anger rose from within. What the hell was wrong with him? She thought, opening her mouth, "What the hell do you think you—?"
"Sir, it's about to begin." A voice cut through the moment. She shoved him back. "Back off, you moron." She snarled.
He barely flinched and just dusted off his suit with a sickening ease. "By the way, that looks hideous on you." He pointed at her cheek, then turned and started to walk away.
What the hell was that just now? Was anybody else seeing that? She looked around.
Her nostril flared. She grabbed the empty glass, fingers tightening around it, and nearly launched it at his head...
"Yeah, I wouldn't do that if I were you, il mio fidanzata." (My fiancée) That stupid, familiar voice contaminated everything further. Now, she was considering throwing the damn glass at him instead.
"Oh, look who is here." A slow smirk crept onto her lips as she placed down the glass with a loud thud and got on her feet. "La mia fidanzato." (My fiancé) She slid her hand around his arm, latching on like she belonged there. She wanted to cut it off.
"Come, let's go. The auction's about to begin." They walked toward the underground basement, their steps echoing through the dimly lit and deserted corridors.
"Pass code." The bulky doorman demanded. She leaned over the machine in his hand and typed it, and then she was granted a pass when it lit green.
Enzo did the same, but the machine beeped red. "I'm sorry, sir, your access is denied." The man fiercely spoke with both his mouth and eyes.
Enzo's face dropped. "What? How is that possible? I bought the entry code one month ago," he reasoned, perplexed, while she crossed her hands over her chest, watching it all play out.
"You cannot enter. Go back while we're still being nice." The man warned.
Chiara sighed loudly.
They both looked her way. "Tell them I am with you. Tell them we're together, now!" He demanded. Again? She thought.
She moved closer. "Uh, uh, uh. I'm afraid things cannot always work in your favor, baby. But I could help you with one thing." A grin spread across her lips. Ideas were racing in her mind.
"You can give me your cash card and membership ID, password and I'll get you whatever the hell you want in there." Her eyebrows lifted in suggestion. "Take it or turn your ass and crawl out of here." She bet her lashes at him.
"Ma'am, we need to shut the door now." The doorman pressed.
Enzo stared hard at her for a second before pulling his card from his wallet and handing it to her. "Don't do anything stupid." Enzo told her.
All she could hear was 'Money, money, money.' She held it between her two fingers and waved it at him. "Text me what you want before it begins. Bye."
His eyes narrowed, "Hold on! How do you get to keep your phone in there? Aren't phones not permitted?" He asked in pure surprise.
Chiara smiled. "Oh dear, I have my ways." She turned, and the door clicked shut behind her, grinning as she gazed at the card in her hands.