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I sipped on my sparkling water, gazed at the hordes of bodies packed onto the dancefloor below us, and answered, “No.”
Oliana chuckled, ignoring my surly attitude. “You will. I promise.”
“That was the guarantee you offered an hour ago. I want a refund.”
“So cranky, my darling. Here, have a snack. It will keep you from being hangry.” She pushed the charcuterie board my way.
“Cheese and crackers aren’t going to make me forget that I’d rather be preparing for my upcoming show.”
“There is meat on the plate, too. Don’t forget about that. It will help soak up the alcohol.” She picked up a cracker, put a piece of cheese on it with some ham, and handed it to me. “Eat.”
“If I eat this, will you let me go home?” I took the food from her and popped it into my mouth.
“No. But you can go dancing. I know this is one of your favorite clubs. And since I own the place, you can even live out that diva lie you have everyone believing, and no one will bat an eyelash.”
I picked up my sparkling water, drank a few sips, and said, “Does your Nikki enjoy this sense of humor of yours?”
“Sophia, you need to get laid. I don’t like this needs servicing side of you.” Oliana waved her hand. “You are no fun. Tell her, Karina.”
“Don’t put me in the middle of this. I helped you get Sophia here. That’s where my assistance ends.” Karina rose from her seat and leaned on the railing to better view the club’s lower level.
“What are you looking at?” I asked, deciding I no longer cared for any more of Oliana’s pestering.
“The buffet of inspiration below. People watching sparked the best ideas.”
I stepped around Oliana, who glowered at me and stood beside Karina, setting my forearm on the railing.
I scanned the crowd and all the many styles of club patrons. The clothes were an eclectic mix of the nineteen seventies and eighties fashion mixed with modern trends. The looks weren’t about fitting in with each other but more about feeling good in whatever they wanted to wear.
I loved the vibe here. No one cared if you worked as a clerk at the deli down the street or if you starred in the newest Hollywood film.
This club wasn’t the type of place found on all the lists of the must-see places of New York City. The only way to garner admission into Misha was to live in the neighborhood or be invited by someone who did.
The fact I’d come to this place three times before this and never knew Oliana owned it, she said this area belonged in her husband, Nickoli Dominik’s territory. The people in it were loyal to him and, in turn, her.
My breath caught as my gaze landed on a couple near the bar in the back corner of the room. The woman had jet-black hair and wore a white lace mask over her eyes, which accentuated the deep red hue painted on her plump lips. What made her so striking was the white bustier with the crisscross pattern she wore with her black leather pants. It cinched her waist, giving her that perfect hourglass shape.
Then there was the man behind her, tall, over six feet, with dark blond hair and deep green eyes. He kept his attention on his lady and a possessive hand at her back as they worked their way into the crowd.
My mind drifted to that night Damon spent with me in my studio. My body hummed as the weeks since disappeared. I closed my eyes, remembering how his fingers worked the white silk ribbon all over my body to create the corset-style binding. He’d given me exactly the amount of constriction I craved, needed, wanted.
I’d allowed him to sweep away my resistance with his touch, his presence, his domination.
And briefly, especially as I watched us in the mirror, his body behind mine. I believed we had a future.
But morning came, letting reality seep in.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I lifted my lashes. Immediately, my gaze landed on the couple’s joined left hands, and a burning sensation filled my throat.
They wore wedding bands.
I swallowed, desperate to ease the pain I felt. Some people attained their happy ending. I wasn’t one of them.
No, that wasn’t true. I’d find mine, but it would come in an unconventional way.
I took in everything about the pair below me as an unexplainable urge to find a pen and paper surged through me.
Oh, my God. I fucking had it.
