“Raven.” She beams, striding over to me when she’s done with her customers.
“Hi Kayla,” I greet.
She cocks her head to the side. “It’s Friday,” she grins. “You promised to try one of my cocktails when you didn’t have work the next day.”
The woman loves making cocktails. But from what I’ve seen, she’s overly generous with the alcohol, which is why I told her I had to wait. She’s right, though. It’s Friday, and I have nothing to do tomorrow.
“Hit me,” I demand.
I arch my eyebrow and laugh when she picks up bottle after bottle, artfully spinning and tossing each one. Finally, she’s done, and after adding two wedges of lime and some garnish, she slides the glass over to me.
“Enjoy.”
The drink is pure perfection, and there’s no stopping the appreciative moan I let out. “God, this is good,” I say.
“Yeah?” Kayla sounds nervous.
“Very,” I confirm, eagerly taking another sip.
The clientele seem different tonight. Sure, there are some of the usual people I’ve seen. But there are entire groups I haven’t seen before.
When I ask Kayla about it, she just says, “It’s Freaky Friday. We get all sorts of people on those nights.”
I laugh at that, guess you could say every Friday here is freaky. I mean, considering Matteo called this his den of sins, I haven’t seen anything truly outrageous. People openly groping and making out, sure. Naked women on stage, absolutely.
Hell, I’ve seen more nipples and buttocks than in my twenty-eight years of living. But nothing that’s gasp-worthy. Which I guess I’d kind of expected.
While living in Paris, I learned I’m a bit of a voyeur. Near where I lived, there was this sex club that was all about the peep show experience. And Christ on a cracker, that shit was hot.
“Here you go.”
Kayla hands me another drink. “So, tell me about you and Matteo. Are you living together yet?” she asks curiously.
I damn near choke on my drink. “Say what now?”
She just shrugs. “With the way you two look at each other, I thought for sure you were already living together and that he’d just kept you hidden from us.”
I shake my head and empty the drink. Living together with Matteo? Yeah… that’s a no. It’s almost ironic how much my mind rebels at the idea.
In high school, I was voted most likely to run off to Vegas and marry someone I’d known for less than twenty-four hours. Living with Matteo wouldn’t even be the most reckless or stupid thing I’ve ever done.
“Not yet,” I say, hoping it comes across like something I might want one day.
Gia speaks up from beside me, almost making me jump. I hadn’t noticed her joining us. “Huh,” she smirks. “Maybe you’re not as serious as we thought. Or not as… permanent.”
Before I can come up with a retort, the lights dim until the room is almost blanketed in darkness.
A single spotlight points at the center stage. “Welcome,” the announcer booms. “To Freaky Friday at the Leone Room.”
Chapter 23
Matteo
“To Freaky Friday at the Leone Room.”
The words hit me like a fucking sledgehammer to the chest. I drop the folder I’m holding, papers scattering across the floor of my office.
Fuck.
