by Olivia Deici
Get yourself together, Izabella.
I need a fucking drink. If my eyes were going to play tricks on me, I was going to go big or go home and give these green babies an excuse to crap out on me.
I finally squeeze my way to the bar and sit on the sleek metal and wood stool. I hail over the bartender and I order a shot of tequila, and the two drinks we'd been drinking in the VIP section. When he slides them to me, I close my eyes and shake my head.
“I forgot my cash in the VIP section,” I yell.
A guy wearing a skinny necktie, one like Roman had said he wouldn't wear, squeezes next to my right in a spot where there was no room. The guy next to him stares at the intruder but Mr. Skinny Tie is focused on me.
“I'll take care of it, honey.”
The smile he flashes my way reeks of cockiness, an empty-mind, and an eager dick. The bartender looks from him to me, where his eyes stay.
“Roman took care of it.”
He winks at me and moves on to another patron.
Needing liquid strength to deal with the apparition and now this toolbag, I grab my shot and knock it back.
“Wow!”
I sigh at his fake exclamation and signal the bartender for another, blatantly leering at the guy next to me. The bartender laughs and pours me another. I slam that back, too.
“Damn, baby. You're knocking those back like water!”
He inches closer to me and I groan. This is why I don't come out to clubs anymore- well that and I'm broke.
I look over to him finally and he's still flashing me his sleazy smile. The guy is handsome but doesn't even come close to Roman. Besides, his personality detracts from any good quality he may have had.
“I'm with someone.”
“What?”
I groan because I know I'd said that loudly enough for him to hear, but instead, he inches his face closer to mine.
“Come on, baby. Let's dance. I got some good moves, vertical and horizontal.”
I couldn't stop my hostile and contemptuous scoff. How many times had he used that line?
The shots must be working their way into my system, because I can't help the blatantly rude roll of my eyes, either. Douche’s face reddens. The harshness of the answering sneer that comes across his face comes as a surprise. You'd think with shitty lines like his and his winning personality, he’s be used to frequent rejection.
“What? You think you're too good for me?”
“I'm with someone.”
I couldn't help but repeat it as if English was his second language. He deserved the mockery.
Asshole.
“That's just a fucking line you're giving me. I don't see anyone around. What? You here with your other slut friends?”
My mouth drops open. What a misogynist. I grab my drinks and turn to leave. His hand seized my forearm.
“I'm fucking talking to you. Don't you fucking dismiss me, snobby slut.”
My eyes trail from his grip on my arm to him.
“Let go of me before you regret this.”
His face morphs into a mocking glare.
“Go on, then. There's nothing more that I want than to wrestle you, blondie.”
The raw lascivious look that came across his face had my heart racing. I'd taken him for annoying, but I hadn't pegged him for sexually aggressive. He edged closer to my face.
The neon rays that were flashing and catching my eyes were blocked by a large shadow. I looked up and saw Roman’s eyes take on the look that they'd had with Parada. Roman palmed the guy’s face and pushed him backward, away from mine. He reached out and grabbed Douche’s forearm and applied pressure near the radius. Douche involuntarily released me and yelled out, looking up at Roman
“Ow! What the fuck, man! Stay the fuck outta this.”
Even though Douche had let me go, that didn’t stop Roman. Douche’s face contorted in pain as Roman twisted his arm in an unnatural angle.
“You're going to break my arm, asshole!”
Finally, Douche took a long look at Roman and cowered back. Shit, I would, too.
Roman’s face looked murderous. His eyes took on a wilder, brighter blue, reminiscent of berserkers. I briefly wondered if some of their blood flowed through his veins, even if he is of Cuban descent. The alcohol was definitely flowing through mine, because I found that I didn't give a fuck that Roman was practically breaking Douche’s arm.
“She's with someone.” Roman gets in his face and it contorts in rage. “When a woman indicates she's not interested, she's not interested. Leave. Her. Alone.”
Douche made to reply. Wow. This guy had no self-preservation.
“You deserve this slut and the fucking STD she's going to give you.”
Roman shook his head with a smirk that didn't reach his livid eyes, nostrils flaring. He snapped his hand, dislocating Douche’s shoulder, and grabbed the back of Douche’s neck, slamming his head down on the bar. Roman bent and spoke into his ear. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but Douche did because his crying stopped after a few moments. Roman straightened, took our drinks in each of his hands, and put his arm around my shoulders, steering me to our table.
When we reached our section and sat down, he placed our drinks on the table and leaned into me.
“You ok?”
I nodded and sipped my drink. “Just another asshole in a line of many.”
He smiled. “And I'm included.”
I shook my head and turned to him. I stared at his lips and then his eyes.
“I used to think so.”
“And what do you think now?”
I paused for a second and brought my index finger to his mouth. “That you're one incredible man.” He bit my finger playfully.
My lips met his in a searing kiss. The heat between us was rising to a peak. I couldn't wait for the explosion.
“What did you tell him?” I asked once I pulled away.
Roman slid his index finger down one cheek and looked into my eyes a little too deeply, like he wanted to see my soul.
“That if he so much as ever looked at you again, I would do to his dick what I did to his arm.”
I chortled, yea, chortled. It was the only way to describe the sound emanating from my throat. Kon Kan’s I Beg Your Pardon blasted through the speakers and I jump up, screaming. It's one of my all-time favorites. Roman looked at me with surprised eyes.
“Dance! Now!”
He laughed, got up, and stretched his hand out to me. I took it eagerly. Several of my faves from Erasure, and Dead or Alive’s You Spin Me Round, Information Society’s What's On Your Mind, Baltimora’s Tarzan Boy, and Company B’s Fascinated pumped through my blood along with the alcohol. My favorite big-hair 80s rock bands were played, too. Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, and Van Halen rocked in the club. What was making it even more awesome was the music videos playing on the big screen behind the bar that encompassed the whole freaking back wall.
Roman and I danced together, often times grinding against one another, which was a feat to be sure, with 80s songs. Those songs didn’t lend themselves to that type of dancing, but hey, we managed. The Outfield’s Your Love came on, and I began shouting the lyrics at him in fun as I danced.
We continued to dance into the early morning. The songs slowly wound down in tempo the later it grew.
Roman brought me close when Berlin’s Take My Breath Away played. He held our linked hands together against his chest as we moved to the haunting melody. My face was against his chest and I inhaled his wonderful masculine spicy scent. The pleasure of his smell filled my body like a fog moving through a meadow. Nuzzling his chest with my nose, I began kissing a path towards his neck. He lifted me effortlessly and my lips continued to trail upwards from his neck to his mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck and our kiss was deep and sensual. My hands massaged his scalp as they wove into his hair. His hands glided down my back and cupped my ass, remaining there for the entirety of the song.
This song by Berlin always made me sigh. Who could
forget that love scene from Top Gun?
And truth be told, Roman Zambrano took my breath away.
The last song at 3:05AM was Simple Minds’ Don't You (Forget About Me).
I swear I haven't ever in my life felt this carefree or had this fun of a time.
Ever.
I was never truly a child or a teenager. I never went to clubs. I never danced as much as I did tonight.
Tonight was the best night of my life.
How apropos it was that that was the last song, because I knew without a doubt that I would never forget tonight.
Chapter 20
Roman
Charlie XCX, After the Afterparty
It had been a fucking amazing night and the only thing making it unbelievably better, was knowing that I was going to make Izzy mine tonight. My dick had been raging the whole time. She was the sexiest and most beautiful woman in the club, and everyone knew it judging by the looks she got from both sexes. The men wanted her, and the women were pissed the attentions of their men were focused on her.
If I was being honest, I liked it. It was like my car- I liked when people ogled it for being the baddest and fastest ride in the city. It fed my male ego, and well, like my cock, my ego was big.
Izzy was a gorgeous woman, if I can be a shallow asshole for a moment. Her ass was perfectly round. I didn't know if I wanted to grab it or bite it. Her tits were big for her frame, and would spill over in my hand. The waist that was deliciously uniting those luscious curves could be spanned by my hands. And her eyes, they were like gorgeous fucking emeralds catching and reflecting the light- her soul’s light.
Yea- poetic, huh? Or pathetic? Which one?
I don’t care what people’s opinions are of me, so it doesn't matter. Izzy’s eyes were shinning bright emeralds that literally displayed the pureness of her soul.
She was fucking gorgeous- inside and out.
Sure, the constant male attention riled me on occasion. I wasn't immune. She was mine, and I protected what was mine. They could look (not too much, though), but sure as fuck couldn't touch.
It was different with my older brother, Marco. If men had even looked at his wife, there was hell to pay. He was a possessive gorilla, who pounded his chest and issued a battle cry at the slightest glance aimed at his woman. His temper was hot and trigger. But that was old news, since his wife was murdered. My brother was even more of a loose cannon now.
And lost.
Back to my beauty- I can tell you that fucking asshole at the bar was lucky she was watching. I would've broken his arm, and that would've been the least of his medical problems. If Izzy hadn't been there, he would've needed a necromancer for daring to touch her.
It brought me such satisfaction to see her excitement and enjoyment at the club. That was a new feeling for me- another’s happiness triggering my own. Every experience with her caused a new emotion or feeling within me that I'd not felt before her.
And I liked it, I liked all of it.
And I liked her.
A lot.
I drove to her place like the devil was chasing my ass to bring me to hell. She was eager, too. I could tell. I'd asked if she wanted to go to my place, but she worried about Dezi, so we were going to her place. It was wise, anyways. She wasn't surrounded by neighbors, only businesses, and the way I was going to make her scream- that was best.
“Oh wow.”
She was breathless and a look came over her face when we were nearing her home. At once, she looked peaceful and longing.
She stole my breath away.
“This is one of my favorite love songs.”
Her voice was gentle as she stared outside the window. She sang the words softly and closed her eyes. I looked at the radio and saw it was Love of a Lifetime by Firehouse.
I wasn't the type to give into frilly things but her soft singing brought peace to my soul. Izzy had a beautiful voice. It was angelic. It stirred something within me, and the emotion confused me.
When the song was over, she was quiet. After a few minutes, she spoke but didn't turn to me. It was like that song had exposed something of her she hadn't wanted to show me.
Yet.
I hoped.
“When I was younger, I’d always pictured the future love of my life singing that song to me, and us dancing under the moonlight and stars. That song feeds my soul somehow. It touches me.”
She paused and sighed. “Reminds me of the dreams I used to have as a girl before my life changed.”
I knew it was hard for her to share that side of herself. I was coming to understand Izzy. She had a past and I had a feeling it was a doozy. She hadn't spoke about it, and I wouldn't force her to open up to me. I'd be patient, or at least try to be. I sensed that she needed that. I didn't know how long I could be patient, though. It wasn't something that came naturally to me.
I usually switched directions when I inadvertently got involved with a woman with any kind of baggage. I appreciated having simplicity in my life. I didn't want trunks of shit from a woman’s past.
With Izzy, though, I’d fucking accept her baggage and help her unpack it. She changed me. I was a better person with her in my life.
I took her hand in mine and we drove the rest of the way home silently. When we pulled up, I parked and we got out.
“Roman, there's a car there.”
I looked over and turned back to her. “It's okay. You're getting extra security.” She made to argue but I shook my head and placed my finger on her plump lips.
“I don't want to hear it. I'm going to make the rounds and make sure everything's good.”
She nodded and bit my finger. The feeling went straight to my dick. On her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to mine, and whispered, “Thank you.”
I grinned down at her. “You can show me your gratitude in a few minutes.”
She laughed and slapped my arm, turning to go to her door. She stumbled a bit and I caught her arm.
“Hey. You alright to go up stairs?”
She turned and the fucking smile she gave me made my dick stiffer.
“I'm good.”
I watched as she went in and the door closed behind her. Even though I had the car watching the building, I was taking no chances with Izzy.
I walked over and the hired muscle got out of the car. I made sure to tell Jose my requirements- large, strong, beast, and smart. After all, what good was muscle if he didn't have the smarts to know something was up. I wanted someone who wouldn't hesitate to put himself in danger to protect Izzy.
And I was paying a shitload for that “someone” who would.
“Mr. Zambrano,” he nodded to me. His voice was as deep as his eyes were dark. We were the same height and build. His dark hair was cut short and tats peeked out from his collar. He wore a black long-sleeve shirt and black tactical pants. Those pockets hid deadly weapons, I had no doubt.
“I'm Shadow.”
He didn't extend his hand for a shake and I was cool with that. He was all business, and I was paying him for it, not friendliness. Yea, he was definitely frigid. He stood legs braced apart with his arms crossed. His face was stoic and his eyes were damn lifeless. He looked my age and I wondered what he'd seen and lived through in his life to harden him so intensely. I'd never come across another human, even Marco, who's eyes reflected this level of barely constrained rage and death at the same time. It was literally like looking at a wild animal in the eyes, with the animal experts warning you not to because it could trigger a violent reaction from the primal beast.
“Jose said it was fine to surveil from the car but I wanted to discuss that with you.”
“Smart.”
He showed no reaction. “You're the client and the money. You supersede middlemen.”
I watched him closely. “Jose’s your boss.”
His stance was solid and he didn't move so much as an inch. “I have no boss. I am my own man. I make my own rules. I do as I see fit.”
I nodded, respecting him.
&nbs
p; “That's what I want.” I pointed to the building. “That woman up there, she means a lot to me. I don't want a fucking hair out of place on her head. Did Jose give you the pic I sent him of her?”
He nodded.
“Good.” I took out my phone and showed him a pic. “This bastard is not to come within a mile of her. He's tried to attack her. Parada doesn't think anything of using fists against women like his wife or Izzy.”
“He’ll be taken care of if he comes near here.”
“Nights are most important. I have three guys on shifts outside of her building twenty-four seven. Tonight, her doors were unlocked and she didn't do it. That's when I called Jose.”
He nodded again, but still hadn't so much as moved a toe.
“It won't happen under my watch. So, daytime is taken care of? Have you thought about installing cameras and more lighting?”
“Yea. The clinic is open during the day and I doubt anything will happen during then. The cameras and lighting were next on my list.”
“I'll take care of it.”
I watched him closely getting a better feel for him and went with my gut.
“I want you in charge of her protection. The neighborhood is dangerous.” I briefly told him about the families and her coveted building. I stressed the Russians. “Then there's this shit with the unlocked doors and Parada. Mostly, though, is this. I haven't told her about this yet and I'm questioning whether I should.”
I pulled out the note and handed it to him. He read it and handed it back.
“Do you know what it says?”
He nodded. “Where did you find it?”
He reads Italian. Interesting.
“Reception floor in an envelope slipped through the mail slot.”
“She knows him. Or he’s a dumbass stalker.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The handwriting.”
I nodded. “I reached the same conclusion. I believe it’s the former.”
“I can have lights, cameras, and sensors installed quickly and quietly. I have guys I can use for extra eyes and muscle if it gets heated.”
