I hesitate, my fingers twisting together in my shirt. The thought of escaping this airless room, these endless reminders of choices, vows and expectation…it’s really tempting. Maybe even a little too tempting.
“I don’t think my future husband will enjoy me prancing around Arizona’s nightlife…do you?” I ask him in a slightly teasing tone causing him to scowl.
“It won’t bother him, I promise.”
This time I scowl.
“You’re right. I almost forgot, the old man doesn’t give a damn about his new virgin bride. He only cares if I bleed on my wedding night.”
Frankie’s face remains neutral as he steps closer to me and pulls my chin up so I’m forced to look at him.
“I assure you that isn’t true, Little Datura. Any man would be lucky to have you as their bride, virgin or not.”
I’m stuck in that same damn trance he gets me in every time as I get lost in his gaze and nod in defeat.
“Okay,” I say, before I can talk myself out of it. “Let’s go out.”
He smiles, just enough to show satisfaction, then tips his head toward the closet. “Wear something different from your usual sundresses. I’m taking you to a nightclub.”
When he leaves I enter my closet and study the rows of dresses, but it’s not a hard choice. I reach for the short black one, the one I bought just to see if I could. It’s the one I pulled off a rack last time we went shopping, waiting to see if I could get any reaction out of Frankie. He just shrugged his shoulders but I bought it anyway. Pulling off my clothes, I slip on the dress and stare at myself in the mirror. It’s perfect. The way it clings in all the right places, sleek and dark, and a little dangerous. My heart kicks up as I slide my hand down the fabric, smoothing it over my hips. I decide to pair it with strappy heels that make me feel even sexier. I’ve never been allowed in something like this. If my cousin saw me right now, he would have a stroke. The thought makes me smirk as I continue to stare into the mirror.
“Oh Andre, your baby cousin isn’t a little girl anymore. If you can’t save me from this, I might as well have a little fun while I can,” I murmur into the empty closet before turning away from the mirror and walking out. Inside my bathroom I sit at the vanity and prepare to do my hair and makeup. Now this, I was taught. I learned how to paint my face and prep myhair, but more for the standards of a mafia princess. Tonight though, I’m going to do something a little different. Gone is the tight chignon and pale lipstick and instead I decide on long loose curls that cascade down my back. I finish the look off with a deep red shade of lipstick that makes my lips look even more pouty than they already are.
When I step into the hallway, Frankie’s reaction is immediate. His breath catches, a soft, involuntary sound, and his eyes go dark as they rake over me. For a second, he just stares at me, like he’s forgotten how to speak. Then he remembers himself, reins it in, and gives me a small, almost formal nod. Checkmate.
“You look…” His voice is rougher than usual. He clears his throat, tries again. “…ready.”
I laugh, ignoring the tight coil in my belly as I watch him attempt not to stare at me. I’m silently loving seeing the desire behind his gaze.
The drive to the club brims with unspoken desire and sexual tension. Frankie's hands grip the wheel, knuckles pale in the soft glow of the dashboard. I want to say something just to break this awkward silence.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” I say eventually, glancing over at him. I’m not sure why I’m pretending I don’t know what’s happening. It’s plain as day, the way he keeps avoiding staring at me, and I can’t pretend I don’t enjoy it. He shifts in his seat but still doesn’t look at me.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
His jaw ticks and he even makes that look sexy.
“About how much trouble I’m going to get into.”
There’s a dry edge to his voice that makes me laugh, despite myself. I don’t miss how he says he will get into trouble and not the both of us. Weird.
Scorpion looks like nothing from the outside. Plain brick,no hint of what’s inside at all. But the second we step through the doors, it’s an entirely different world. Bass pulses loudly and strobe lights cut through clouds of perfume, the air thick with sweat and lust. Bodies move together everywhere, including on the dance floor. It’s wild and intoxicating and almost too much all at once.
Frankie’s hand finds the small of my back as we weave through the crowd towards a velvet-roped VIP section. Two men guard the entrance, their faces like stone. Frankie leans in, whispers something I can’t catch, and they step aside. I should be used to this, especially since I dealt with it in Italy, but somehow it still pisses me off to be followed around. Just once, I would like to be able to enjoy going somewhere without being watched like a hawk. Frankie sees my scowl and immediately grabs a drink from the server waiting in our section, before handing it to me.
“Relax, Datura. Tonight is supposed to be fun.”
I take a sip hesitantly and am pleasantly surprised at the flavors that explode inside my mouth. It tastes delicious.
“You like it?”
I nod at him, a small smile on my face as I take another sip.
“What is it?”
“Sex on the beach,” he replies, causing me to spit out my drink in surprise.
