I’m standing on a raised balcony reserved for the VIPs at The Sphere night club.After about two hours of relentlessly trying to convince me to party with them, Nico and the girls left.That was a while ago and I don’t know anyone else here, except for the celebrities, but they don’t know me.The DJ is still going strong and down on the dance floor, most people have ditched as much of their clothes as they can get away with so they can keep dancing.The club is packed full of shirtless guys and women in their bra tops, or whatever they call them.
Except this one girl.
She’s wearing a skin-tight gold dress just a few shades darker than her hair.Whatever the dress is made of sparkles in the overhead lights like real gold.Judging just by her curves that dress is hugging—all natural, I bet, since she’s so perfectly proportionate it can only be the work of God—it might as well be gold.
Normally, in my old life, I’d already be down there, dancing real close to her.Or scratch that… I noticed her two hours ago, so by now, we’d already be back at my place.But in this life, I’ll just have to hope I see her again sometime.Although, since this city has like ten million inhabitants, the chances of that happening are slim.
I should go get her number… why waste the chance?But I don’t have the time.And I want to get back to LA sooner rather than later.Finish what I set out to do.
But she looks so good in that gold dress…
That conversation has been repeating in my head for at least an hour now.Given the time difference and all the sleep I got on the planes coming out here, I’m not even a little tired.But I’d still already be back at Nico’s place despite that if I didn’t want to give him and the girls some privacy.I’m sure they headed back there when Nico handed me the key to his Lambo and told me they’re heading out.
That key’s been burning a hole in my pocket too.It’s been so long since I’ve driven anything other than someone else’s town car.Dante’s.But I won’t think of him.By the end, he beat me down so hard I couldn’t afford more than the rusty old pickup I finally made my escape in.But all that’s gonna change now.And I’m just waiting for it to get a little later in the night before taking the Lambo for a spin… less congestion, hopefully fewer cops.
That girl in the gold dress would look so good next to me in that slick as fuck car going fast down some empty avenue.
She’s not here with a guy, I know that much from staring at her all night.She knows I’ve been watching too, keeps glancing at me, shy-like, probably wondering why I haven’t come up to talk to her yet.Those innocent little looks from her big, wide eyes have been making my dick harder and harder, so I’m wondering that myself.Hopefully she thinks I’m taken or something, not that I’m too big of a wuss to approach her.Not something that bothers me in general—what women think of me—but with her… I want her to think well of me.Which is insane, because all I know about her is how good she looks across the room in one of the hottest dresses I’ve seen on a woman yet.
A group of very Russian-looking guys came in about half an hour ago—short-cropped hair, leather jackets and tapered pants that went out of style with the 1980s.Bratva, as the Russian Mafia calls itself, probably.Or Bratva wannabes, more like, because these guys look like they only just left Mother Russia.
One of them is dancing much too close to my gold girl.And I see him trying to get even closer, doing all he can to get her to notice him.I’d have been doing the same if I didn’t set such strict rules for myself.No women, no drugs, no fun… until the job is done.It even rhymes so it must be the right thing to do.
She finally does notice him, giving him a small smile that I feel like a corkscrew deep in my chest—partly because I want her to smile at me like that, and partly because I don’t want her smiling at anyone but me.It’s all he needs to pounce.His buddies are all hanging out nearby too.What are they doing?Hoping to get a piece of her too?Fucking assholes.
Another girl—this one with dark hair and wearing white—has been floating to and from gold girl all night.She seems to sense that the Russian vultures are swarming and goes up to gold girl, whispering something in her ear.But Goldie just laughs, tells her something that makes her go back into the crowd.Then she smiles at the Russian guy some more.
He whispers something into her ear and the surge of rage I feel at seeing him so close to her, being so intimate, her long, wild hair brushing his face, is out of this world.Literally.Because in this world I don’t even know Goldie’s real name.Or even what she looks like up close.
Then the guy takes her hand and leads her towards the back.
And it no longer matters whether my reactions are sane or not.I run down the stairs and follow them, elbowing my way through the crowd so I don’t lose sight of them.A cool temper, or even much common sense, never ran in my family.And damn it, if anyone gets to fuck Goldie tonight, it’s gonna be me not some Russian mob lowlife.Although she’s more the type you bring flowers and diamonds to…
She and the Russian are disappearing through a door in the back… probably heading to the toilets.All four of the guy’s buddies follow.Two stay at the door, two go through.
What the fuck is going on here?
I’ve done enough of this sort of grunt work for Dante Moretti—watching doors and standing around for a show of strength, to instantly recognize something like that’s happening here.But why at a nightclub?And why with a woman?
All sorts of answers to that question are popping up in my head, none of them good.And even though it’s absolutely none of my business whatever it is, and I’d rather not get entangled with a bunch of Russians on my first night in New York, I approach them and the back door anyway.Because fuck it, Goldie’s too pretty for the likes of them.
Her dark-haired friend in white reaches them first.Lasers are practically shooting out of her eyes as she demands for them to move aside and let her go after Goldie.They grunt back and shake their heads.
She pushes one of them, but I get between them right as she’s about to do more than that… or they are.
“Why won’t you let her through?”I ask, nice as you like because it’s never a good idea to go head on with guys like these.
“None of your fucking business,” the one of the left says in a heavy Russian accent.But I already knew that.
The girl is still arguing with them, demanding they tell her where her sister is, demanding they let her through.She’s angry but also sounds desperate as hell.Like her life depends on getting through that door.
And I never needed much more of a reason to beat up someone than to help a woman in distress.And it’s not hard to incapacitate the two guys… I’ve done it with bigger opponents in less time.I punch the first one in the stomach, which gives me the time to deal a blow to the temple to the second.He goes down without even a grunt.I finish the first one off with an elbow to the throat.
The girl in white doesn’t even wait for him to go down too, she just runs through the door calling her sister’s name.Gia.Probably short for Gianna.Possibly Giorgina.Or maybe just a name on its own.A very pretty name, whatever the case may be.Just like its owner.And the fact that I’m thinking all that while rushing after the girl in white down a hallway with black walls and scarce lighting, is weird as fuck.
The door at the end of the hall is manned by two more of the Russians.The girl in white runs straight into them, surprising them just enough to give me an opening.This time I head butt the one not wrestling with the girl, getting him right in the nose.His blood is spraying everywhere as I punch the other one in the temple, the first opening I get.Then I pull the girl out of his grasp and out the door.
They won’t stay down for long.If we’re gonna find her friend, we gotta be quick.
