Episode1
1233 Words
The Wrong Turn
“Go, Amelia! Get it, girl!”
I heard Chloe’s voice over the roar of the music. She was somewhere below me, waving a drink in the air. I realized then that I was actually on the stage. My hands were gripped around a pole, and I was swaying my hips in a way that would have made me die of embarrassment if I were sober.
But tonight, I wasn't the shy artist who hid in the back of the gallery. I was someone else in this club.
I laughed, the sound lost in the music, and spun around the pole. My head spun even faster.
For a second, the crowd blurred into a sea of faces, but my eyes locked onto one spot in the VIP balcony. There was a man sitting there, he blended with the shadows. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his eyes boring holes into me. It was so obvious, it felt like he was already feeling me up with even moving a finger.
His stare made me nervous for a second, who looks at someone like that.
“I need… I need the bathroom,” I mumbled to no one in particular.
I slid down the pole, nearly tripping over my own feet. Chloe caught my arm, her face flushed and happy.
“You’re on fire tonight!” she yelled into my ear.
“Restroom,” I said, pointing vaguely toward the back. “Be right back.”
“Don’t get lost!” she joked, turning back to the dance floor.
I stumbled away from the noise. The deeper I went into the club, the more the lights dimmed. I saw a sign for the restrooms and followed the arrow, but my brain was working in slow motion. I turned a corner, then another, pushing through a set of large curtains.
Suddenly, the music muffled. The air got cooler.
I wasn't in a hallway with bathrooms. I was in a long corridor lined with private gold coloured door. It was so quiet, everything was screaming luxury in every angle.
“Oops,” I giggled, leaning against the wall for support. My reflection in a gold-framed mirror looked back at me—hair messy, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “Amelia, you are officially a mess. Where are the toilets?”
I turned around to go back the way I came, but I ran straight into something hard. For a second I actually thought it was maybe a wall from nowhere, but I looked up and it was indeed a person, I had hit his chest.
“Oh! Sorry,” I stammered, looking down at a pair of very expensive-looking black shoes. “I’m so sorry, I lost my way. Just trying to find the… you know.”
I tried to step to the right to pass him. He stepped to the right, blocking me.
I tried the left. He moved left.
I huffed a little, a drunken spark of annoyance hitting me. I looked up to tell him to move, and the words died in my throat.
It was him. The man from the balcony.
Up close, he was terrifyingly handsome. He had beautiful features and eyes that looked like they could see right through my skin. He didn't look like a guy out for a fun night. He looked like he owned the building and every single thing in this city, he looked f*****g rich.
“You’re the one,” I whispered, the realization hitting my foggy brain. “From the balcony. You were watching me.”
He didn't say anything at first. He just stared at me, his presence filling the narrow hallway until I felt like I was getting choked up in his presence. Then, he reached out. His hand moved slowly, almost gently, until his fingers wrapped around the back of my neck.
He pulled me forward, forcing me to step into his space. His skin was warm, and his grip was firm.
“Finalmente ti ho trovata,” he rasped.
His voice was like deep velvet. I didn't understand the words, but the way he said them made my stomach flip.
“I… I don’t know what that means,” I breathed. My heart was beating hard, his presence was suffocating me so badly.
He tilted his head, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just behind my ear. He leaned down, bringing his face inches from mine. I could smell alcohol and a bit of mint. The eye contact was intense—so intense that I forgot how to breathe.
“It means,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke, “that I finally have you.”
A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. “You don’t even know me. We’re strangers.”
A dark smirk played on his lips. It wasn't a nice smile, it was creepy and held so many intentions towards it that I fear I will accept, wholeheartedly.
“I want you,” he said, his voice dropping lower than before. He moved his other hand to my waist, pulling my hips closer to him. I could feel the hard line of his body through my thin dress. “Do you feel this, Amelia?”
My breath hitched. “How do you know my name?”
“I know everything I need to know.”
He didn't give me a chance to argue. He leaned in and captured my lips with his.
My breath hitched immediately, he sucked in my mouth, not giving me time to react, he easily dominated the kiss, pulling at my under lips with each stroke, teasing me.
I should have pushed him away or run back to Chloe but the alcohol in my system and the desires I had suppressed just came out. I groaned into his mouth, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders.
I was so incredibly turned on it was embarrassing. I wanted more. I wanted everything he was offering.
He pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark with a kind of heat that will ruin me. He looked at me, making sure I was still with him, still wanting it. I nodded frantically, unable to find my voice.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the nearest door. He swiped a gold keycard, and the door clicked open. It was a private suite, dimly lit with a massive bed in the center. He didn't turn on the lights. He didn't need to.
He pushed me toward the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. I fell back onto the soft bed, bouncing back, I looked up at him as he began to unbutton his shirt. His movements were slow, deliberate, and completely mesmerizing.
I felt like I was in a dream. A very beautiful, very dangerous dream.
He climbed onto the bed, hovering over me. He looked down at me, his face focused on mine intensely. He reached down, his fingers catching the hem of my dress.
“Spread your legs, love,” he commanded.
And I did.
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