★★Mariella's POV★★



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I make my way to the bar, my heels clicking against the floor as the ache in my feet grows unbearable. Kevin is there, cleaning glasses with his usual cocky smirk. When he spots me heading toward him, he raises an eyebrow, already knowing something's up.

"Mari, are you out here hurting poor guys on the dance floor again?" he teases, his voice laced with mockery.

I plop down onto a stool, exhaling dramatically as I kick off one heel under the bar. My shoes are killing me—I'm definitely rescheduling a foot massage tomorrow morning.

Actually, my whole body could use one.

I glare at him, crossing my arms like a child caught in the act. "What? He started it," I say defensively.

Kevin chuckles, shaking his head. "What am I going to do with you?" He leans forward slightly, his voice dipping into a flirtatious tone. "What can I do to relieve your stress, babygirl?" He winks at me, his signature smirk firmly in place.

As good-looking as Kevin is—and he knows it—he's my best friend. Crossing that line, like sleeping with the guy, just wouldn't sit right with me, even if he clearly doesn't feel the same.

"Nice try, Kev," I reply, rolling my eyes. "But you can make me a frozen daiquiri." I pout my lips, giving him my best pretty please look.

He scoffs, pretending to be exasperated. "Anything for you, angel," he says with a wink before turning around to start on my drink.

"Thanks," I murmur, propping my elbow on the bar as I wait. My eyes wander over to the dance floor, scanning the crowd.

Luna is on the dance floor, grinding against some guy her age, completely lost in the music. At least someone's having a decent time.

And there's Santino, lounging back on the couch. His arms are stretched out along the top of the booth, and he's flanked by two girls hanging onto his every word. He says something that makes both of them laugh, their giggles high-pitched and flirty.

I'd bet you my two bucks whatever he said wasn't even remotely funny.

"Mari," Kevin calls, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glance back at him, and he's sliding my drink across the bar toward me. "Here you go," he says with a small smile before moving off to help another customer.

"Thanks," I say, lifting the glass and taking a long sip. The cold, sweet liquid goes down smoothly, the slight burn of alcohol warming me from the inside out.

It's just what I needed.

But as I savor the drink, I feel it—a burning sensation, the heat spreading across my side of the cheek. Like someone's eyes are glued to me. Slowly, I turn my head, scanning the room until I spot the source.

And damn dear lord.

He's sitting in a booth across the dance floor, legs spread wide, exuding confidence like he owns the entire club. He probably does. His tattooed arms rest lazily along the back of the couch, a thin trail of smoke curling up from the cigarette in his hand. His brown hair is neatly styled, with one rebellious curl falling over his forehead. His sharp jawline looks like it could cut glass, and the slightly unbuttoned black dress shirt he's wearing reveals just a hint of his chest.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a fine man. The kind of man who looks like he could ruin my life—and I might just let him.

Our eyes lock, and it's like the world around us disappears. His piercing gaze is steady, challenging, as if daring me to look away.

But I don't. Oh no, I'm not backing down.

I take another slow sip of my drink, tilting my head slightly, my lips curling into a mischievous smirk. If he wants a challenge, I'll gladly give him one. His intense gaze never wavers, and then—he smirks back.

The subtle curve of his lips sends a jolt through me, a reaction I hadn't anticipated. A tingly warmth stirs low in my belly, spreading downward, and I shift slightly in my seat to keep my composure.

What the hell is this man doing to me without even saying a word?

The tension between us is thick, almost tangible. My heart races, but I keep my composure, my smirk growing wider. I'm fully prepared to hold this little staring contest for as long as it takes.

Then, suddenly—

"MARI!" My name is being yelled repeatedly, breaking the spell. I blink, snapping out of the trance, and look up to see Luna standing in front of me, slightly out of breath and looking far too amused.

"Oh—y-yeah?" I manage to say, my voice shaky as I try to keep it together.

Luna looks at me, her brows furrowing in confusion. "You good, girl?"

I don't know what just happened.

My throat feels dry, and my legs ache from the tension of pressing them together. I quickly grab my drink, taking a long sip, and force myself to relax. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's up?" I flash her a fake smile.

"Nothin. Whatcha drinking?" Before I can even answer, she grabs my glass and takes a sip. Her face scrunches up instantly, and she looks at me like I just handed her poison.

"Come on, that's a child's drink," she teases. "Let's get something stronger." She waves Kevin over and orders four shots without even asking me.

I roll my eyes but can't help sneaking another glance over her shoulder toward the mysterious man. He's leaning back in his booth, now talking to another guy, his muscles straining against the fabric of his button-up shirt. His tattooed veiny hands rest casually on the table, and I find myself shamelessly admiring him again.

I just want to walk over there and go down on him, while he chokes me out—wait, what, Mariella? What.

I can't.

I can.

No, I can't.

I mean...

I try to fight off my intrusive thoughts, shaking my head like it might help, but they linger, taunting me.

What is wrong with me? I'm not that girl—drooling over some random guy I haven't even spoken to.

No. I'm a bad bitch. This is not my vibe.

I shake it off just as Kevin places the shots in front of us. Before Luna even has a chance to say anything, I grab two of the shots and toss them back like they're water.

Luna raises a brow at me, clearly amused. "Well, cheers, I guess," she says sarcastically before grabbing her shots and downing them in one swift motion.

We're both giggling now when Lights Down Low by Bei Maejor featuring Waka Flocka Flame starts playing.

Our heads snap toward each other at the same time, our eyes lighting up with excitement.

"OMG, our song!" we scream in unison before sprinting to the dance floor.

The beat takes over as we start moving to the rhythm, hands in the air and hips swaying perfectly in sync. It's our moment, and for now, nothing else matters but the music.

As the music fades, I tap Luna on the shoulder. "I need to pee real quick. I'll be back."

She barely has time to react before I turn on my heel and start weaving through the crowd toward the back of the club. I've downed so many drinks tonight that if I don't go now, I swear I'm risking a UTI.

Reaching the hallway that leads to the restrooms, I push open the door and handle my business. After washing my hands, I take a moment to glance in the mirror. My makeup is slightly smudged, so I retouch it, fixing my eyeliner and adding a little gloss to my lips. Satisfied, I toss my compact back into my clutch and step out of the bathroom.

God, I feel so much better.

As I head down the dimly lit hallway, I'm about to turn the corner when I collide with something—or rather, someone.

Hard.

I stumble backward, nearly losing my balance, but a large, rough hand grips my lower back and waist, steadying me. The firm pull draws me against a solid chest, and my hands instinctively land on his torso for support. It's warm, unyielding—and oh God, that cologne. The intoxicating scent wraps around me, rich and smoky, with a hint of spice that makes my head spin.

I glance up, only to be met with those same piercing eyes that had captured me earlier. He towers over me, his presence suffocating. At least 6'6", maybe more. My eye level barely grazes the third button of his impeccably tailored jacket. His sheer height and imposing build make me feel small, almost fragile, as he locks eyes with me, his intensity sending a shiver down my spine. Every inch of him radiates power and control, and for a split second, I wonder how much danger I'm really in.

He tightens his grip on my back and waist, and I close my legs quickly. Oh my God. If he does that again, I swear I'm going to start dripping down my legs. His face is so close to mine—very close. If I just step forward, even just a little, I'd touch his lips. God, I wonder what they'd feel like down on my clit. How he'd move his tongue around slowly—

Mariella, stop now.

My nipples, already tender and sensitive, grazed against the solid wall of his chest, sending a jolt of electricity through me. The gentle friction was like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a fire that spread rapidly through my veins. The sensation was almost unbearable, my breasts aching with a mix of pleasure and need as they strained against him

But it was what happened between my legs that left me gasping. A molten heat began to build, a slow-burning fire that threatened to consume me whole. My folds grew slick with arousal, the gentle throb of my pulse beating in time with the ache that had taken up residence inside me. It was as if my very core was awakening, responding to the primal call of his body.

The feeling was intense, a raging storm that I couldn't escape. My thighs trembled with the effort of standing, my knees weakening as if they might buckle at any moment. I felt like I was melting into him, my body becoming one with his as the heat and scent and pure, unadulterated desire wrapped around me like a shroud.

My breathing grew shallower, my lungs burning as I struggled to draw in air. My heart pounded in my chest, the beat echoing through my entire body like a drumline. I was lost, adrift in a sea of sensation, and the only anchor I had was the man in front of me. His eyes, his touch, his scent – everything about him seemed to be drawing me in, pulling me under, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever find my way back to the surface.

"You alright there, love?" he asks, his deep voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Ugh. His voice. Just fuck me-

I nod, swallowing hard. "I'm fine, thank you."

The hand on my lower back was a gentle caress, a soft pressure that seemed to sear itself into my skin even through the fabric of my dress. I could feel the heat of his palm, the gentle curve of his fingers as they rested against me, and it was like a spark had been lit. The sensation was intoxicating, making my skin prickle with awareness and my nerves hum with anticipation.

But it was his smile that really did me in.

That devastating, panty-dropping smirk that seemed to say he knew exactly what he was doing to me. It was a smile that promised trouble, that hinted at secrets and whispers and stolen glances in the dead of night. It was a smile that could ruin a girl's life, and yet, it was also a smile that made her want to take the leap, to throw caution to the wind and see where the fall would take her.

I felt a shiver run down my spine as our eyes met, the connection between us crackling with tension. For a moment, I forgot about the bar, the music, the crowd – everything except the two of us, locked in this fragile, fleeting moment. His eyes seemed to bore into mine, searching for something, and I felt like I was drowning in their depths.

His eyes lock on mine, and then slowly, deliberately, they trail down to my lips. Instinctively, I lick them.

His smirk twitches, transforming into a full, wicked grin.

Why did I do that? Why did I just do that?!

I can't handle the tension—it's thick enough to suffocate me.

"I have to head back," I mutter quietly, breaking the spell.

He releases me, and the cold absence of his touch is almost unbearable. I already miss it, which is ridiculous.

I step around him, my heels clicking softly against the floor, but out of the corner of my eye, I feel his gaze burning into me, trailing down the length of my body.

Just as I turn the corner, his deep, smooth voice calls after me, "Beautiful dress, mon amour. (my love)"

I think something wet is dripping down my leg.

I glance back at him, catching his devilish smirk and a playful wink. I chuckle softly, turning away before I do something reckless—like rip off my dress right here in the hallway.

As I round the corner, I spot Luna making her way toward me. "Oh, there you are! I was about to come get you," she says, her tone a mix of relief and urgency. "What's up?" I ask, noticing the slightly annoyed expression on her face. "We're leaving, but Enzo needs help with Santino," she says.

Oh God, here we go again.

We make our way across the club to a booth where Enzo is standing, clearly fed up as he argues with a very drunk Santino. Santino is slumped on the couch, clutching a bottle of Don Julio like it's a precious baby.

"San, svegliati. Amico (San, wake up. Dude,)" Enzo growls, shaking him slightly.

Santino stirs but doesn't budge, letting out an incoherent mumble as he snuggles the bottle closer.

"Non lo farò più, ubriacone di merda. ( I'm not doing this again, you drunk fuck)" Enzo mutters, exasperated.

I step closer, taking in the ridiculous scene, and Enzo shoots me a frustrated look. "You see why I didn't want to come out with this twelve-year-old?"

I can't help but chuckle at the situation. "Oh, I've got this. Watch and learn."

I step up to Santino, leaning down dramatically, and put on my most convincing voice.

"Santino, svegliati! Papà è incazzato con te. Ha detto che brucerà la tua collezione di auto! Sbrigati!(Santino, wake up! Father is pissed at you. He said he's going to burn your car collection! Hurry!)"

My delivery is flawless—Oscar-worthy, honestly.

In less than a second, Santino jolts upright, his eyes wide and wild, almost dropping the tequila bottle in his panic.

"Cosa?! Chi?! No! (What?! Who?! No!)" he says worried, looking around frantically as though his beloved cars are already up in flames.

Enzo stares at me for a moment, stunned, before bursting into laughter. "How do you even come up with this stuff?"

I grin, crossing my arms smugly. "Talent, darling. Pure talent."

Santino is still groggy and disoriented, blinking at us like a confused puppy. "Wait... what?"

"You heard me," I tease, grabbing the bottle from his hands and handing it to Luna. "Come on, let's get you out of here before you pass out on the floor."

Enzo smirks, clearly relieved. "See? That's why we keep you around."

"Damn right," I reply with a wink as we haul Santino out of the booth and toward the exit.

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I wonder who the mysterious guy is? Any thoughts?

*Favorite subject at school*

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡