Page 16 of Salvatore

“Omigod.” Julia whips around and shakes my arm, pointing ahead. “We’re in the VIP section. Holy shit, Aedry, you totally hooked us up!”

We’re led up onto a raised platform and to a large table overlooking the dance floor. The moment we’re seated, a waitress appears, placing an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne at the center of the table.

“Compliments of the house,” she says, hurrying to hand each of us a glass.

“Who is this guy?” Marilyn asks, leaning into me.

The waitress pops the champagne, careful to avoid eye contact, even as we thank her. “He’s in public relations,” I say again, well aware of the doubt plaguing my voice.

My girlfriends don’t seem to notice. What they do notice is all the attention we’re attracting sitting in the VIP section. One song morphs into the next as the group of men we saw on our way in make their way to the bar below us. The one in a silky black dress shirt catches Christy’s attention again. She returns his smile, but then turns back to speak to us.

This goes on for another song until the guy holds Christy’s attention long enough to mouth, “How about a drink?”

“How about four?” she yells back, holding up her fingers. “Your pick.”

The guy grins and holds out a few bills, snagging the bartender’s attention. He and his five other friends follow him, their drinks and ours tight in their hands.

“I don’t know about this, Christy,” I say, taking a nervous sip of my champagne. I’m not much of a drinker and I’m not here to meet a stranger.

“It’s okay, Aedry. Nothing has to happen unless you want it to,” she says. “Just try to relax and have a little fun.”

The men join us, pulling their chairs in close as they introduce themselves. Instead of regular drinks, they brought us shots. Mine hits me hard enough to make me shudder, causing the men closest to me to laugh. “You’re cute,” one of them tells me.

I don’t respond, doing my best to recover and failing miserably. By the time I’m halfway done with my champagne, I’m already drunk.

“Hey, where you going, Avery?” Josh, or something like that, calls to me.

I don’t bother correcting him, or tell him where I’m headed.

“I’ll be right back,” I say. I don’t know these men, nor do I want to. Salvatore is who I came to see and the more time that passes, the more anxious I am to have him with me.

I snake my way into the ladies’ room, seeking some quiet and peace only to find two women dipping their nails into vials filled with white powder. They glare when they catch me gawking, so I quickly run into the stall.

They’re still there when I step out, apparently not in a rush to leave or to hide what they’re doing. I don’t bother checking my makeup, opting to quickly wash my hands and avoid conflict.

They glare at me with dilated pupils, seemingly ready to lash out. In my haste to leave, I bump into a stunning woman with long legs, a tiny waist, and breasts the size of Miami.

I’ve never met a supermodel, yet I’m certain this woman has to be one. “I’m so sorry,” I say, worried she’ll take a swing at me despite her glamourous appearance.

She tosses her long blond hair and grins, giving me a glimpse of her perfect white teeth. “No worries, sweetie,” she says, adding a wink.

I hurry out, grinding to a halt when I see Salvatore leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed.

Oh, and there’s that smile I’d lost.

Beneath the flashing club lights, his crisp white shirt glows against what must be a very expensive suit. I’m not sure what color it is, black, perhaps? All I know is that the dark color does little to shrink his muscular form.

Salvatore is a sculpture of muscle, his body a masterpiece. Meanwhile, I’m in shoes I can’t lean forward in without face-planting, and wearing a dress that barely hides my important parts. I’m out of my element, my comfortable clothes, and completely intimidated. Yet I can’t help my widening smile as I approach him.

“Hi,” I say, beaming that he’s finally here.

He turns his head slowly, his eyebrows knitting when he sees me. “Hey,” he says.

I run my fingers through my hair and glance down, well aware of his eyes travelling the length of my body. Maybe I should have taken a moment to check my hair and makeup. Regardless, my happiness at finding him is as apparent as his dominating presence.

“I didn’t expect this place to be so popular,” I say, motioning in the direction of the packed dance floor.

He tilts his chin, his stare cutting away from me. Before I can turn in the direction he’s looking, he clasps my elbow, carefully edging me close to the wall.

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