I swallow thickly and drop my gaze to the floor.
I only look up when Melody grips my forearm and leads me inside the club. Both she and Lauren rush toward the bar to get drinks while my eyes roam around the dark place. It’s exactly how it looks in movies—music booming and people dancing. To my right, a couple is making out passionately. It feels as if I have changed dimensions. Everything is so different in this city. I’m so used to the warmth and serenity of Kingsford, that although we’re inside, my body’s still cold, and shivers continue to rock it from head to toe. Maybe I do need a drink.
Following the girls to the bar, I welcome the shot Lauren gives me and down the tequila in one gulp. The liquid burns the back of my throat, and before I attempt to ask the bartender for a glass of water to ease the blazing sensation, Lauren pushes another shot in my hand.
“Drink!” she bellows, and downs the liquid.
I follow her by doing the same. And by the time she’s handing me the fifth glass, the room starts spinning around me and my knees start wobbling. I sneak into the bathroom and wash my face with frigid water.
Fuck.
The alcohol is starting to seep through my veins, and I need to wake myself up before I black out. I’m a lightweight and five shot glasses of tequila are more than enough. I remain in the washroom for a couple of minutes, chugging tap water from the sink and washing my face relentlessly.
When I leave the washroom, I feel a little bit better, but not well enough to drink more. I blink and squint at the dancing crowd for a while before I spot Melody and Lauren, who are grinding against two random guys.
I fish my phone out of my jacket pocket and take a quick glance at the time. It’s ten thirty, and although it’s still early to leave, I decide to head out. Both Melody and Lauren look like they’re having so much fun they don’t really need me.
Stepping out in the cold, I hug myself and cross the street. I decide to go for a quick walk before taking a cab back home. The cold air will do me good.
I walk down a serene street. My footsteps echo in the vast emptiness. I halt in my steps the moment I hear a crunching sound behind me. I turn around swiftly and swallow hard when my eyes land on the tall, dark silhouette at the end of the street.
The streetlights dim for a fraction of a second, and I pick up my pace, not daring to turn around anymore. My heart hammers against my ribcage and my chest heaves. The person’s footsteps sound closer and I can barely hold my scream anymore. Hot tears burn the back of my throat as panic assails me.
I turn left and start running. The tears that were stuck in my eyes roll down my face helplessly. I look back for a quick moment and hit a wall.
I step back and freeze the moment I realize that it’s not a wall.
It’s a tall man with green eyes that shine in the blackness. His hair is raven and his neat tailored suit hugs his muscular body. The man isn’t just intimidatingly large but has an equally impressive posture.
I peer up at him through my eyelashes. His gaze is aloof and completely expressionless. His eyes flit to my slightly parted lips where they linger for a while.
“There’s … someone following me. Please help me,” I croak, and shudder the moment his meaty hand grips my forearm.
Without breaking eye contact, he says, “Marco, go check.”
A man steps into view and hurries behind me. I didn’t realize we weren’t alone. Behind the man, two pitch-black cars are parked in the middle of the street.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“What’s your name?” he asks sternly.
“Eliana.”
His lips quirk up in a smile as he extends his hand out. I place my quivering palm in his and shake his hand.
“I’m Michael. Don’t worry, you’re safe now. The streets are dangerous, and a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking all by herself.”
My cheeks heat at his comment. He pulls his hand away and opens the back door.
“Get in, Eliana. I’ll give you a ride.”
It’s not a question. And without uttering another word, I find myself sliding in the back seat of the fancy car that belongs to the mysterious, handsome stranger who just saved my life.
4
“So, where am I taking you?” the man who had just saved me from an abduction or worse asks from the driver’s seat of his car.
Okay, I know I am totally paranoid, but I blame that on all the years my aunt and uncles drilled into my head that nothing good is out in the world. There’s a rapist or murderer lurking at every corner.
But still, this man, this complete stranger who just so happens to be one of the hottest men I have ever laid eyes on, saved me from a possible dangerous situation. For that, I’m totally grateful to him. Yeah, go figure … My first night out on the town on my own and I’ve already managed to freak myself out.
He’s definitely wealthy. The way he’s dressed, the expensive car. It all screams money. When it comes to cars, I don’t have the slightest idea, but I did manage to get a glimpse of the brand and model: Mercedes Benz.
The whole car is pitch black. Even the windows are tinted to a dark-as-night tone, which I’m sure is not even legal. I can see just fine out of the window from where I’m sitting in the back seat, but when you look from the outside in, you can’t see a damn thing.
I take a deep breath and then clear my throat. “I’m just a few blocks up … The dorms at the university?” I ask more than state to see if he’s familiar with them.
He nods. “Yeah, I know where that is.”
Of course he does. The school I’m attending is very prestigious, and someone would have to be living under a rock their entire life not to be familiar with it, even if they weren’t from the area. I’m an idiot. I want to kick myself right now for even insinuating that he doesn’t know where it is.
I push my long, dark hair out of my face, and from the corner of my eye take a good look at him. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. The way he carries himself, even just how he’s sitting with his back straight, suggests he’s a very powerful man. I know nothing about him, but I can tell that whatever he does for a living has done him really well.
“So, I take it you’re new around these parts?” He looks momentarily in the rear-view mirror and catches me off guard. I didn’t expect him to take his eyes off the road. But he’s stopped at a red light.
“Yeah, I am.” I rip my gaze away too soon, because looking at him any longer than a few seconds at a time causes my body to tense.
“Are you Italian?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“You’ve got the features. So am I … but I’ve only been there a few times. Italy, I mean.”
I look up, but now he’s looking at the road again. It’s always been a dream of mine to one day visit the country where my ancestors are from. Maybe someday.
Moments later, he steps on the gas again and we’re heading down the road toward my dorm.
Before I know it, he pulls over in front of my building. How the hell did he even know which dorm I’m staying in?
“Here we are. Which one of these buildings is you?” He turns around and we lock eyes. Damn, his eyes demand attention even when he’s not speaking.