Blue Shoes 2 (New Adult Erotic Romance)

by Knight, JJ

  Inside, the Shari Vari looks like an old castle. There are shields and candles on the brick walls. Lights hang from a domed ceiling. This place feels ancient, which makes the music sound even more modern. People have packed the floor, and are dancing under large archways. Some areas feel like a castle, and some feel like an old subway station.

  Sabrina finds us as we’re skirting around the dance floor. She greets us with the usual Italian kisses, first on the left cheek and then on the right.

  With her big, brown eyes and long dark hair, she really is the Italian version of me. She’s even wearing a form-fitting dress like the one I’m wearing, only hers is a more subdued, wine color.

  “You look bellissima,” I tell her.

  She smiles, takes me by the hand, and pulls me through the crowd. We arrive at the Deluca table, which is a generous booth by the far wall. Chet’s eyes practically bug out when he sees a pretty blonde in a white dress and loads of makeup. She looks like Scarlett Johansson, but with brown eyes instead of blue.

  A waiter arrives and Chet orders us all champagne.

  When the drinks come, Chet offers a toast, saying, “Morris and Deluca are going to do grande business together.” He turns to Sabrina. “Did I say that right? Grande?”

  She laughs and nods. “Yes, big. Grande.”

  We all clink glasses. I’m smiling—really having fun—for the first time since I got to Rome. Grande fun.

  The DJ at Shari Vari is amazing. The crowd can’t get enough. They bob and move through the arched dance floor like they’re one person. The beat of the dance music thrums inside me.

  Chet is paying a lot of attention to the blonde, but she seems shy, or is playing hard-to-get. Chet finally gives up. He turns to Sabrina and starts talking to her about work. We’ve been seeing some incredible album cover designs and marketing ads the last few days.

  There are some other guys and girls at the booth, but I don’t recognize them from Deluca. That’s fine by me, because I don’t want to talk about work.

  The champagne keeps flowing. I don’t know how much I’ve had. The glasses are small, and it tastes so nice.

  Chet points at me and tells the whole table, “Jess is a wizard when it comes to marketing music. She has so much passion for it. She’s one of our youngest executives, but the one that I trust the most.”

  The Italians nod politely.

  Getting louder, Chet says, “She’s going to be a beautiful bride, too.”

  Sabrina raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

  Chet grins proudly. “She’s marrying one of our artists. Dylan Wolf. You’ve heard of him, right?”

  The blonde suddenly takes an interest in the conversation.

  Sabrina’s face lights up. “Dylan Wolf. Yes. I love his songs. That one is so sad, but so good. Where You Belong. He is a great songwriter. I love his voice. And his eyes.”

  “Dylan Wolf?” the blonde coos. “I love him. I want to make a baby with him.”

  Chet keeps talking about Dylan, like I’m not even here.

  “He’s so sexy,” the blonde says.

  I feel like daggers are stabbing me in my stomach. I don’t want to talk about Dylan right now. I especially don’t want to hear this gorgeous blonde talk about making babies with him.

  I try to change the subject. “Does anyone want to dance?”

  Everybody looks at me like they’re not sure. They want to hear more about Dylan. The blonde ignores me and keeps talking about having Dylan’s beautiful babies.

  I feel like slapping her across her stupid face. Did she not hear Chet say that I’m getting married to Dylan? Or did she hear him, and just not care?

  One of the guys in the group stands up. “Let’s dance,” he says.

  I barely look at him. I just follow him out to the dance floor.

  The DJ changes the beat smoothly, and the bass gets low and sexy.

  My feet move on their own. I feel better now that I’m moving. The music flows through me. The beat rises up from the floor and caresses my body. I close my eyes and move with the crowd.

  When I open my eyes again, I can’t see our table, or Chet and Sabrina. I’m surrounded by strangers. But I don’t care. I feel bubbly from the champagne and I’m enjoying myself, letting go with the music.

  The man I’m dancing with smiles at me. He has a shaved head and chiseled jaw. He could be an Italian model, for all I know. He has that hungry look, with hollow cheeks. His teeth are really white, and his dark eyelashes are thick and lush.

  I lean in and ask, “Are you Sabrina’s friend?”

  He keeps dancing, unbuttoning his white shirt. He moves from side to side, the shirt opening to show off his hard abdominal muscles.

  I’m embarrassed to be seeing so much of a man I don’t know. I turn my face away, pretending to be watching the DJ.

  He moves closer to me and says something in Italian.

  I reply, “Sorry, English only.”

  “English. Not sorry.” He laughs. “This music is the best, no?”

  “Yes. It’s good.” I smile back at him, but I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.

  “You are… American?” the man asks.

  I nod. “Just here on business.”

  “That’s good. We Italians like you Americanos.” He flashes me his teeth again. “I’m Antonio.”

  He offers me his hand, and a firm handshake that lingers way too long.

  “Jess.” I drag my hand away from his clutches.

  “I hope you enjoy our country, Jess.”

  “Thanks.”

  His gaze is intense, like he’s undressing me. Touching me. I can feel his greedy hands, even though they’re at his sides.

  I turn my face away and keep dancing. The music keeps me going, but I’m waiting for the DJ to change the song so I can excuse myself.

  The song seems to drag on forever. I can feel Antonio’s eyes all over me, even when I look away. My head feels beyond light. I should have eaten something. I lean in toward Antonio and ask, “Where’s the bathroom?”

  Antonio points toward a neon sign that says toilette.

  “Bella, how are you feeling? More champagne?”

  “No way. Just… um… excuse me.” I turn to find the neon sign again, but a group of people bump into me, shoving me up against Antonio. Now I can feel my elbow against his bare, sweaty chest.

  My stomach pitches. I need out of this crowd, away from the loud music. Away from this guy I don’t know.

  “Come. I will help.” Antonio grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd. We reach a brick wall, away from the dance floor. I lean against it and catch my breath. The cold brick feels good against my back and my sweaty palms.

  “You want the bathroom?” Antonio leans toward me. He looks concerned, but he’s getting way too close.

  I shake my head. “You can leave me. I need to rest here for a minute.”

  “I will wait.” He finally gives me some space and joins me with his back against the wall.

  The music changes again. I hear Dylan’s voice. It’s one of his new songs. The DJ is mixing it with another song that I don’t know. This doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real. I must be dreaming, stuck inside a nightmare. I can hear Dylan, but he’s not here.

  I close my eyes and think of his face. My heart hurts, and I want to touch him. To hold him. I miss him so much. It’s not right that he isn’t here.

  My head is swimming, overwhelmed by the heat of the club, and the people everywhere. Rome is too crowded. Everywhere is too crowded. I just want to go home.

  “You are bella.” The words are whispered in my ear. “So beautiful.” The voice is gritty, like Dylan’s voice over the speakers.

  I feel fingers run up my arm, then down again, and around my waist. Hot breath caresses my neck, then I feel a mouth on my throat. Kissing me. My eyes are still closed. I arch my head back in response.

  The lights over the dance floor change their rhythm, flashing the club with a strobe light I can see through my eyelids.<
br />
  Dylan is here.

  He kisses my neck, his hand still around my waist, holding me steady.

  “Dylan?” It has to be him. He’s here at the club. That’s why Chet dragged me out tonight.

  Then a mouth is on mine.

  I soften under his touch.

  The kiss changes, rough lips pressing hard.

  This isn’t Dylan.

  There are more strobes and flashes, but they’re from nearby. My eyelids fly open. It’s a camera flash going off. I’m blinded. I turn my head and shove the guy away from me.

  The man kissing me was Antonio. He has a smirk on his face.

  “Get away from me!” I yell.

  “I see you are feeling better.” He lunges at me again, trying to kiss me. I turn my face away, but he keeps trying.

  I’m trapped against the wall, with his arms on either side of me. I’ve got nowhere to go.

  I get my arm free, and slap him across his face. He looks dazed, but doesn’t drop his arms. He’s still caging me in against the wall. More camera flashes go off.

  I slap him again, harder.

  He drops one arm to cradle his cheek in his hand. A group of people have gathered around, and two other young Italian men pull Antonio away. They step between us.

  I can’t understand what they’re saying, but they’re telling him to back off.

  “You hit me.” Antonio gives me an angry, hurt look. He swears in Italian, then spits out, “Stupid Americano.”

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I keep wiping desperately. I can’t get the disgusting taste of him off me.

  He gets dragged away, complaining the whole time about the stupid Americano.

  I yell after him, telling him exactly what I think of him, but my words are drowned out by the sound of the music.

  My words are drowned out by Dylan.

  This is the promo demo, from one of his unreleased songs, played over a remix beat.

  Every bit of my body aches for him. He’s so far away. In my mind, I see him kissing that girl, again and again. The lyrics are about forbidden passion. I know he’s singing this song for her.

  I put my face in my hands. Why didn’t I hear the words before now?

  I don’t know how it’s possible, but tonight has gone from bad to worse.

  Chapter Four

  I find my way to the washroom, where I splash some cold water on my face.

  Some girls my age are kind enough to ask me if I need help.

  “Grazie,” I say. “I’m okay. Thank you. Grazie.”

  They insist on escorting me to my table. As we walk back, I look around for people who might be taking pictures or video of me. I know I saw photo flashes when that jerk kissed me, but nobody seems that interested in me now.

  It’s a good thing I’m being ignored. That means they were just taking pictures of some unknown girl in a club, and not taking them to sell to the highest bidder.

  Pictures of me kissing some Italian guy are the last thing I want to see loose on the internet.

  I find Chet at the table, alone with the blonde. They both look bored.

  “I’m ready to go back to the hotel,” I tell him. “Let’s save some Rome for our next excursion.”

  “Good idea,” he says.

  As we leave Shari Vari, I keep rubbing my mouth with the back of my hand. I can’t believe Antonio put his lips on me, and I let him walk away without any bruises.

  Chet asks me why I’m so quiet. I blame it on the champagne.

  * * *

  The next morning at Deluca, I can’t believe how refreshed Sabrina looks, considering how late we were all out.

  Chet and I keep popping Aspirins and complaining to each other. Sabrina, however, is as perky as ever.

  We get through all our day’s meetings. Chet disappears for a few hours, and I suspect he’s found somewhere quiet to nap. Of course, we’re in Italy, so technically it’s a siesta, not a nap.

  At the end of the day, Sabrina asks if I’m ready to try a different club tonight.

  I check the time on my phone, and I can’t believe how late it is. I rush to the window and stare in shock. The sun is setting already.

  We’ve been working overtime, but the late hour is surprising. I’m losing myself in this job.

  “Sabrina, I’m so lost. I didn’t think it was past six, let alone night time already.”

  She laughs. “This is why we need to go out. We’ll have a late dinner, and then straight to dancing. No need to go home. Just take off that jacket and let your hair down.”

  I pat the twist at the top of my head. “Thanks, really. But apparently I’m a workaholic now. I’m going to do some work at the hotel, on my laptop.”

  She stares at me for a moment, her expression turning sad.

  “I’m sorry about Antonio,” she says.

  “You heard about that?” I glance around. At least we’re alone in a meeting room. “Please don’t let it get out that I let him kiss me.”

  She scrunches her face in disgust. “He is a pig. He’s not even my friend. I won’t ever look at him again. Except to slap him. Like you did.”

  I groan. “Please don’t tell anyone else about that.”

  She makes a motion like she’s locking her lips with a key.

  “Have fun tonight,” I tell her.

  We finish up for the day, and I return to the hotel.

  I walk into the lobby and immediately notice that the front desk staff seem to be up to something. They’re all lined up in a row, and smiling at me.

  I get a flutter in my chest.

  Do I dare get my hopes up?

  The elevator is taking too long, so I run up the stairs to my floor.

  I’m panting when I finally yank open the door to my room.

  Something’s different.

  The scent of roses hits my nose. The curtains are closed, and the lights are on, but dimmed. I step into the room.

  The round table is covered in a tablecloth. Next to it is a room service cart, with two covered plates. A bottle of champagne sits chilling on ice in a bucket.

  And there are roses everywhere. Giant vases, full of roses in every color.

  Dylan is sitting so still, it’s hard to spot him right away, hiding behind all the roses.

  My eyes meet his, and I let out the smallest cry, almost a croak.

  He’s in one of the burgundy upholstered chairs, holding his beat-up old guitar.

  He strums a chord, and says, “Hello, Blue Shoes.”

  I’m so excited and relieved to see him, I don’t even try to play it cool. I drop my laptop bag to the carpet and run to him. I toss his guitar over to the couch and climb onto his lap.

  He laughs as I cover his face in kisses.

  Then my mouth connects with his, and he stops laughing.

  We kiss, tongues and lips mashing together, until both of us are gasping for breath.

  I pull away from his lips and fan my face with my hand.

  He stares at me quietly, then reaches up and carefully pulls away the ribbon holding my hair up in a twist. My hair doesn’t loosen down, because of the elastic. He seems mystified by this for a moment, then finds the dark brown elastic and pulls it away.

  He runs his fingers through my hair and along my scalp. I close my eyes for a moment to savor his touch. His fingertips send shivers all through my body.

  “I surprised you,” he says.

  “Sure, but you didn’t fool me,” I say. “Everyone at the front desk was staring at me, and I totally knew you were here. I knew it. I felt you from the other side of the door.”

  I’m still on his lap, sitting sideways. I don’t dare move off him and let him get away.

  He gazes at me with his soulful brown eyes, so deep and expressive. “You felt me from the other side of the door?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He runs his fingers lightly up and down my forearm. We both look down at the goose bumps he gives me.

  “Jess, I felt you from the other side of
the ocean.”

  I don’t know what to say to this. It’s such an incredible idea—him missing me from the other side of the ocean. I like it. This is so like him, to take something painful and make it seem beautiful.

  He kisses my neck, moving slowly down to my shoulder. His arms encircle me, and his hands move to my breasts. He cups my breasts gently, then starts to outline my nipples with his fingertips.

  I breathe out his name, “Dylan.”

  Am I dreaming? Is he really here?

  Chapter Five

  This isn’t a dream. I breathe his name again. “Dylan.”

  “I’ve missed you so much. So much… that now that I’m with you, I miss you even more. It hurts to hold you, because I feel what I’ve lived without. How could I do this to myself? How can I let us be apart?”

  Now I feel the pain, too. All of the pain from the last two weeks rises up like a tidal wave. I choke down the feeling and focus on his touch. He’s here now.

  He keeps caressing me, gently at first, but with increasing urgency.

  My nipples harden under his touch. I groan and shift my body on his lap. He responds by clutching me tighter.

  Now the hunger I’ve had for him since I left L.A. swells inside me. Dylan looks at me with intensity, from my eyes to my mouth. He’s examining my face like he hasn’t seen me in years, and what he sees is even better than he remembered. His lips are curved in a sexy smile.

  I kiss him, drowning out my thoughts with the sensation of our bodies finally connecting.

  I reach down for his shirt and slip my hands up under the fabric. Touching his smooth stomach makes me think of the girls at the Avalon, pawing at him. I kiss him harder and harder, claiming him. He’s mine, not theirs.

  He grasps me by the shoulders and gently pushes me back.

  His eyebrows raise. He looks surprised by my ferocity.

  “Wow. You really missed me.” He gives me a wolfish grin. “Either that, or you’re really hungry. I ordered room service, in case you didn’t notice.”

  My jaw moves, but the words don’t come out. I should ask him about the things I saw on the internet, but I can’t. I don’t want to destroy this moment.

  “Jess? What’s going on with you?” Now he looks suspicious, like he thinks I’m hiding something.