Then the liquor again blazes a trail of fire right down to my stomach, and I start to feel dizzy and disoriented. Simon grabs me by the shoulders. “Whoa there, take it easy,” he says, taking the glass from me. I cough again, and my head clears a bit. I look up into Simon’s dark eyes. He really is cute. What’s the worst that could happen if he and I got a little closer?
“Never felt better,” I say, waving off his concern.
“How about a dance then,” he asks, smiling.
“Sure,” I say. He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. The music is loud, with an unrelenting rhythm that seems to shake the entire room. I start to move, the beat of the bass and drums throbbing in my chest, and just go with it. Not like I did earlier, as I know the result that my twerking got but just swaying to the beat, feeling free, fluid, boneless. I toss my hair to and fro and throw my hands in the air. Sweat forms on my forehead and runs down my face. I swipe it away.
Is it me, or is the room getting hot?
Why do my cheeks feel as though they’re on fire?
Suddenly, I lose my balance and pitch forward, landing clumsily against Simon’s solid chest. His arms wrap around me and hold me steady. My vision starts to swim, but over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of him…that man from the bar again, his piercing eyes fixed on me. My stomach starts to heave, and I realize I’m going to be sick. I try to bite back the bile building in my throat, but it’s no use. The fermenting contents of my guts spew out of my mouth, all over Simon and whoever is standing within range. I hear shouts of disgust from the crowd and see people moving away in all directions. The room seems to spin, and the lights become a blur. I feel myself sinking to the floor, then everything goes black.
Chapter Six
Ezio
Not another step, Ezio. Don’t you dare.
My fingers curl into my palms as I retreat, taking several backward steps, not stopping until I feel the hard bar counter against my lower back. Yet, my eyes remain on the dance floor. The object of my affection has yet to learn a thing or two about holding her liquor. It’s clear she hasn’t had much practice.
It’s automatic, this instinct to rescue her. I want to rush over there, scoop her in my arms and take her away from here. Get her cleaned up, get my hangover cure in her system and make her good as new again.
But I can’t.
Not right now.
It’s terrible timing. I fear our initial meeting left a bad taste in her mouth, one that can only be erased if I take it slow. Give her space. I’ll win her over but not tonight.
The other patrons give way to the puking girl, clearing a space on the dance floor all around her. The boy she’s with tries to hold her up despite the vomit clinging to his clothes. I didn’t miss the way he’s been staring at her all night. There’s no doubt that he wants her. Too bad. I’ll bet the sight of her throwing up will end his crush right away. That’s good. One less element between her and I; one less obstacle to remove. One more opportunity for me to have her completely.
I watch with bated breath as he pats her cheeks. A rush of relief surges through me when she stirs. I can’t imagine what she’d consumed to pass out like that. Yes, she definitely can’t hold her liquor. Something her friends should’ve known.
With a deep sigh, I force the rising irritation down as Katie takes her in the direction of the restrooms. I follow them unseen and observe the entrance to the ladies’ room from the corridor. I’ve practiced my methods for such a long time that I’ve turned surveillance into an art form. Neither they nor anyone else in the club will be aware that I’m doing so.
I watch as they emerge from the restroom about ten minutes later. Katie’s arm is still wrapped around her waist, helping her along, but I notice the redhead’s steps faltering, too. They’ve both had a lot to drink, so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s wasted, too. She probably has more control over holding her alcohol. Either way, I hope they don’t intend to get behind the wheel of a car tonight.
They rejoin the two young men on the dance floor, and after a brief discussion, they all file out of the club. Of course, I’m right behind them. There’s no way I’ll relax without knowing she’s home safe and sound. It sounds odd to even think of the effect she’s already had on me when we’ve barely spoken. I don’t know what it means, but like everything else in my life, I’m going to follow through.
It disappoints me to see Katie getting behind the wheel of a luxury SUV. I assumed the boys would be taking them home. This is not good. My instincts scream a warning, but again, I force myself not to react. I can’t imagine how disturbing it might be if I stopped them from leaving. I don’t want to scare her. I want…
At this point, I’m not exactly sure what I want. I just know that it involves her. All of her.
She joins Katie on the passenger side, and her dark-haired companion shuts the door behind her. I want to shake the fuck out of him. The other guy, too. What the fuck are they thinking, letting them go in that condition?
Moving fast, I slip into the leather seat of my ride and gun the engine. Lucky for me, the redhead takes her time pulling out from the parking spot, which gives me time to follow, keeping myself two car lengths away to not arouse suspicion. Not that they’re alert. I’d bet my entire net worth that Katie’s not even watching her mirrors.
I might be overacting, I think. She’s driving steady, keeping in the center of the lane. There’s no sign that she’s even a little tipsy. It seems they’re going to be fine. Yet, I still follow because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this business, it’s to trust my instincts, and they’re currently screaming at me to follow them all the way home.
That, and the fact that I’m itching to know who she is.
The SUV turns off the boulevard and onto a street that leads to an upscale neighborhood a few blocks from where my family headquarters are. If this is where she lives, I understand her offended response about my comment on her outfit. It’s definitely not cheap if she’s living in a place like this.
For some reason, they’re picking up speed. I apply light pressure to the gas pedal, just enough so I don’t lose them. I imagine there’s something urgent going on in there. Maybe she wants to use the restroom, or worse, puke again.
The SUV careens around a bend. Shit. She took it too wide. It grazes the curb, igniting sparks, then swings to the other side of the street and bounces against the other curb. Christ. Is she losing control? I speed up, just in case.
My insides swell with relief when the vehicle rights itself and keeps going. Yet, it doesn’t slow down. I’m tempted to press the horn or flash the blinkers to get their attention, but I don’t want that attention on me.