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I don’t want people to treat me differently. I can’t show up in it.
So I climb into the tank and drive off before anyone in my family can stop me.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like a princess.
I don’t feel like a villain.
I feel like me. A woman in seek of a man.
I smirk, staring into my rearview mirror without seeing a security team following me. A first.
I’m free.
This bar is loud, stingy, and smells like sweat. I love it.
I can’t stop smiling as I slowly make my way through the crowd, trying to find the bar so I can order a drink. I’ve been elbowed in the face, shoved, and had my foot stepped on. Not once did anyone apologize or cower and bow after possibly hurting a Carini. No one has run away scared I’m going to have my brothers hunt them down and shoot them for hurting me.
I’m just me.
I make it to the bar, but not without some serious effort. And when I lean against the bar and raise my hand to get the bartender’s attention, nothing happens.
He doesn’t even glance my way over the throng of people.
“Hey, I would love to order a drink!” I holler down the long bar, which should only hold about a dozen people, but has at least three times as many crowded around it now.
I frown when nothing happens.
“Hey!” I shout again. My voice can be loud when I want it to be, but apparently, it’s not enough to grab anyone’s attention.
I hear a deep chuckle, and I turn to give the man my best side-eye stare.
“You don’t come here often, do you?” the man asks me.
I look him up and down. He seems my age, or at least close enough. He’s not dressed up at all. He’s wearing jeans with holes in them, tennis shoes, and a dark grey T-shirt. He didn’t even bother shaving. His dark hair covers his chin and neck, making his sparkly white teeth shine even brighter when he smiles.
I try to contain my grin. I don’t want him to think I’m too anxious, but he’s exactly what I’m looking for. He doesn’t come from my world of fancy balls, thrown to hide the murders and evil occurring behind the scenes.
“You caught me. I’m not from this town. How do you get the bartender’s attention?” I ask, giving him a tiny smile and turning entirely to face him.
His eyes drop down to my impressive cleavage. He swallows hard and shifts his legs back and forth, most likely trying to hide the jaw-dropping bulge straining in his pants.
“Like this,” he pulls out a wad of cash, holds it out, and whistles loudly. The bartender turns and glides down the bar to the mysterious man who holds out the stack of twenties. The bartender takes it, pockets the large wad of cash, and then places two bottles of beer in front of us.
The man winces. “You probably aren’t a beer drinker, are you? I could get you something fancier than a beer, but it’s going to take a while. All the bartender will do quickly is get you bottles of beer.”
I eye the bottle and pick it up. I rarely have a beer, and never out of a bottle, always a glass. But tonight, I’m not a princess. That girl is gone. Tonight, I’m wild, adventurous, and going to go home with this man who keeps eyeing me like he wants to take me to the bathroom and fuck me.
I drink from the bottle, and the man grins like he’s just won the biggest prize.
“I’m Roman Alfonso,” he says.
“I’m Gia,” I say, leaving off my last name intentionally.
“Well, Gia with no last name. I would love to dance with you.”
I look out at the crowd of people smashed together. That doesn’t look like dancing to me. They press against each other, but are barely moving anything except their hips as they grind into each other.
“Or, I could take you back to my place, and we could talk. I’d love to learn more about you somewhere where we can actually listen to each other talk,” Roman says.
