“To check on the club. If you two want to waste time calling caterers, be my guest.”
“Do you want me to wait nearby?” Riktor, my driver, asks me as I’m getting out of the car.
I don’t bother looking at him when I speak. “No. I’ll be here a while.” I slide out and close the door behind me, not looking back at the car even once before it drives away.
The only reason I didn’t drive myself is because I’m already several drinks in. The alcohol isn’t settling inside me the way I want it to, though. No, it’s cold and depressing. Making the pain in my chest even stronger.
Notte Scarlattashould fix it though.
Scarlet Night. The night club that’s been in my family’s charge since the late eighties. The nineties were its glory years, but it’s still one of the most popular clubs in the area for locals.At least, those that are looking for more than the sparkly tourist trap bars can give them.
“Mr. Dresvanni…” the bouncer at the front door greets me. There’s a look of pity in his eyes, and I can’t stand it.
If everyone is going to be looking at me like this in here, I might just turn around.
“Shut it,” I tell him before the wordsI’m sorry for your losscan escape him, or whatever variation of that he might be about to say. “Fiorellis here?”
“Couple of ‘em. Checked before they went in,” he assures me.
“Good. They cause any problems I want them dragged out by their balls.” I toss the guy a hundred-dollar bill and then make my way inside.
Scarlet Night is gritty and sensual. The floors a deep red oak paneling that gives meaning to the name of the club. The scuffs and scrapes in the wood from several decades past don’t stop anyone from coming in.
Off center of the club is the only spot where the floor changes from wood to polished black dance floor.
Overhead lighting casts down a dim orange glow on the writhing and grinding bodies on the dance floor and the patrons sipping their martinis and downing shots at the bar. There are two bars in the club. One by the dance floor, and one toward the back of the club, where red velvet and black leather booths are tucked into corners and against the walls.
The air smells like cigarettes, vodka, and sex. One of the only clubs in the area where smoking is allowed. Some say it ruins the atmosphere, but I inhale the tobacco smoke like it’s everything I need.
“Carmine, there you are, baby.” A woman with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes shuffles over to me in her black pumps.
“Sasha, there you are. How long’s it been?” I ask her as she puts her hands on the shoulders of my black suit jacket.
Sasha rolls her eyes. “As if you don’t remember the last time you saw me.” She curls her fingers into my jacket and I reach a hand out. I grab her by her hip, feeling the fabric of her tight blue dress under my fingers. The edges of the cheap silver sequins rub against my palm.
“Why don’t you remind me?” I ask her.
She grins at me and grabs me by the sleeve, tugging me toward the back of the club. I let her. Until we’re in the dimmer lighting and the music is slightly muffled.
Then I take charge.
Sasha has no shame as I’m fucking her mouth while she’s on her knees on the club floor. Her fingers dig into my pants, and every single thrust of my hips makes my loosened belt buckle clatter softly.
I’m not sure how long it takes, but it does seem to take longer than normal…eventually I come in her mouth, and she swallows it all like she always does.
“Need a drink…then I’ll fuck you,” I mumble as I’m doing my pants back up.
I need a minute to get hard again, and the suddenly euphoria has already worn off. My eyes are burning. I don’t want her to see.
“Okay, baby,” she says breathlessly and slides into a nearby booth.
“Usual?” the bartender asks.
“Triple,” I tell her.
She pours me a triple shot of rum and I down it. It hardly burns anymore.
“Well, someone’s preparing for Christmas Eve,” she chuckles. “I heard about?—”
