Chapter 3.

NORA CARUSO I sat down in my room, my head filled with the thought of Carlos, I felt hollow... How could it all have been a lie? The late-night talks, the feel of his hand finding mine in a crowded room. It had felt like destiny, like the universe had finally aligned to give me my one person. How could it be a lie? And beneath the grief was Nikolai who had sworn with everything in him to destroy my life. I hugged my knees to my chest, the threat replaying in my mind. Every instinct screamed at me to tell Renata but she was already going through a lot and I didn’t want to add this to it. The door suddenly swung open, and Renata stepped inside with a smile on her face, “Absolutely not,” she declared, her voice leaving no room for argument. “I refuse to let us rot in this house like a pair of tragic Victorian heroines get up, get dressed. We’re going out.” I shook my head, not even bothering to lift it from my knees. “Ren, I can’t. I’m really not in the mood.” “The mood?” She strode into the room, flicking on the main light. I winced as the sudden brightness assaulted my eyes. “Nora, the ‘mood’ is a luxury we can no longer afford. When do you think the mood will strike? When Carlos magically reappears with a personality transplant? When Nikolai sends me a handwritten apology for how long he had deceived me?” “Where would we even go?” I mumbled. “To the club,” she said, yanking open my closet doors. She began pulling out dresses, tossing them onto my bed. “To a place with loud music and overpriced drinks and people who don’t know our names or our problems. We are going to dance, we are going to drink, and we are going to remind ourselves that our lives do not, and will not, revolve around those men. They took enough from us, they are not taking tonight.” “Do you hate me, Ren? For stopping your wedding, I know it hurts.” I suddenly said and she paused. “I don’t hate you Nora, I’m actually happy you tell me, it hurts though but we can’t let them break us. If we just sit here, letting it all fester… they win. So please do it for me. Let’s just have one night where we pretend we’re free.” “Thank you so much, Ren. I thought you were going to misunderstand me too.” Her understanding means a lot to me, I didn’t do that out of jealousy. “You should know I will never misunderstand you, it’s been only us for years.” She said and we both chuckled. An hour later, we stepped out of a cab and into the club. “First stop, the bar!” Renata yelled over the music, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowd. We started with tequila shots. “See?” Renata grinned, “Better already!” “This is good!”I mumbled as I took more shots. We laughed and took shot after shot. “I think I have learnt something,” I mumbled but then, a strange wave of dizziness washed over me. It was more than just being drunk, I’d held my liquor better than this before.   I felt entirely different. “I… I need the restroom,” I managed to slur to Renata, shouting over a particularly loud drop in the music. She nodded, lost in her own world, and I broke away from her, my steps unsteady. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, the doors on either side looking identical. A powerful wave of nausea and an urgent need to pee drove me forward, I fumbled for a handle, pushed a door open, and stumbled inside. My intoxicated brain registered that this wasn't a restroom, it was a room. A private VIP room, maybe? A plush velvet couch sat against one wall, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey stood on a table. My gaze was everywhere until it fell on a man standing with his back to me, shrugging out of a tailored black jacket. His shoulders were impossibly broad, as he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, revealing the dance of muscle with every movement. He was a sculptor carved into a living, breathing work of dangerous art. He turned to place his shirt on a chair, and my breath hitched in my throat. My vision was blurry, but I could make out the sharp line of his jaw, the dark stubble that shadowed it, and a chest that was a masterpiece of lean, defined muscle.  My gaze fell on his waistband and the trail of dark hair that showed, i felt something shoot through me, making my nipples harden and a wetness between my legs. He looked familiar, I couldn’t quite recall but my body didn’t care about his name. It only recognized him as a predator, as temptation, as a beautiful, beautiful man. He finally seemed to notice me, his head snapping up. His blue eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” He slurred, looking equally intoxicated.  My mouth felt dry. The urgent need to pee was suddenly the only coherent thought I could form. “Gotta pee,” I slurred, gesturing vaguely toward a door I assumed led to a bathroom. He let out a short laugh. “The public restroom is down the hall. The door’s that way, get out.” He pointed toward the door I’d just entered. I tried to glare at him, but my eyes wouldn’t focus properly. “Asshole,” I muttered, turning on my heel. My body, however, had other ideas. I staggered, my legs feeling like jelly, and my shoulder slammed into the doorframe, a curse escaped my lips. I felt a hand clamp down on my arm before I could fall. The touch was electric, scorching my skin through the fabric of my dress. He spun me around, his body blocking my escape. We were suddenly inches apart. I could see him more clearly now but couldn’t make out his face, he feels so familiar. Who was he? “What did you just call me?” he growled, his breath hot against my face. “You have beautiful lips, can I kiss them?” I replied instead, I wasn’t sure were the guts came from. “That wasn’t…” before he could reply, I stood on my toes and slowly brushed my lips against his, feeling satisfied I tried to move away but he held me back crashing his lips with mine.  His tongue plunged into my mouth, tasting of whiskey and a darkness that I found myself craving. A pathetic moan escaped my throat as I kissed him back, my hands tangling in his thick, dark hair.  This was wrong and insane, but it felt like the only real thing in a world that I needed. He broke the kiss only to press his lips to my jaw, he groaned and I arched back. “God, you feel good,” he murmured, his hands sliding from my arms to grip my waist, pulling me against him. I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing into my stomach, and the last remnants of my control shattered. The journey to the bed was clumsy, we stumbled, nearly falling, our mouths still locked together. We landed on the mattress, his hands were everywhere, pushing the straps of my dress off my shoulders, his fingers tracing fire along my collarbones. I was just as frantic, my hands fumbling with the buckle of his belt, my nails scraping against the hard muscles of his abdomen. My dress was pushed up to my waist, his trousers shoved down his lean hips. He moved between my legs, his eyes boring into mine. “Can I?” he mumbled even in his state of intoxication. “Yes,” I mumbled and he entered me, a gasp was torn from my lips. I felt full, of being overwhelmed in the best possible way. He started to move slowly in a way that stole my breath and sent waves of pleasure through my system.  My head fell back against the pillows, my eyes fluttering shut as I gave myself over to the sensation.  The last thing I heard was the sound of his ragged breathing until I lost consciousness.