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CHAPTER TEN – MILA
Call me crazy, but I feel as if someone’s following me. Since the night I met Mr. DeLuca, I’ve had that feeling no less than twice a day, but I can’t prove it.
I spend the next hour working out, then I nap before it’s time to wake up and shower. Before I slip on the pink sequined form-fitting dress, I grab my lace corset holster and put it on, tucking my Derringer Snake Slayer inside. Once I put my dress on, I check out my body in the full-length mirror, and I’m satisfied that my gun can’t be detected.
My mind races with ideas of how to sneak into the club with the gun on me. The bouncers have a metal detector, and they scan everyone coming into the club, but with the certainty that someone’s following me, there’s no way I can leave this baby at home now.
When the night descends, I call for a taxi and head to the historical district of Castello, where DeLuca’s club is located. The taxi cab traverses the winding hill past derelict buildings whose walls hold deep secrets, historic churches, museums, and art galleries now gone silent compared to the bustle they saw earlier in the day.
My mind is lost in the details of formulating a plan to sneak my gun inside. I’m so deep in thought I don’t realize it when we arrive at the nightclub built on medieval ramparts.
“Erano qui!” the driver barks when he realizes I’m not moving.
“Scusate,” I apologize, reaching for my purse and paying him before hopping out.
People sit outside at tables in front of restaurants and bars on this balmy night, enjoying the tranquil breeze from the sea.
Laughter abounds in this place of merriment, and I still haven’t formulated a plan as I approach the long line outside the club.
The holster I wear is hot, and worrying about how this will all play out makes me hotter. There’s no way that I can turn back after coming this far, but at the same time, I know that I won’t make it past security with this gun on my body.
The couple two spaces in front of me are getting scanned. “Hey, can you hold my spot?” I ask the woman standing behind me.
She looks confused. Putting a finger up, I type a quick phrase and pull up my Italian translation app. Looking back at the woman, I say, “Tieni il mio posto?”
She grins and nods her head. “Sicura.”
I slip out of line and go to the middle. Two men are talking to a woman, and I pinch one of the guy’s asses and then fall further back in line. I elbow a woman, slip out of line, and head back to my spot.
A commotion is stirring behind me as I slide back in front of the lady I asked to hold my spot. The voices grow louder, there’s some pushing going on, and I’m shoved forward.
“Ehi! Il tuo problema?!” the bouncer shouts out.
I see three men fighting in the line and a group of ladies arguing. The bouncer calls out to someone else, and two larger bouncers come barreling out of the club.
The bouncer takes a couple of steps forward, but his attention is focused on the fight just as the couple ahead of me enters the club. I guess he’s trying to figure out if they need his assistance, but I don’t care. I press myself against the wall and keep my eyes trained on him.
Once everyone is focused on the drama, I easily slip inside the club, making a beeline for the bar, hoping I don’t get caught. After finding a seat, I lean back against the bar with my back to the bar as I face the crowd and scan the dance floor.
I’m just trying to blend in and praying the bouncer didn’t notice my move or that no one else did. I wait for a few minutes before turning around and spotting the bartender.
He’s heading in my direction, smiling at me. He’s flirted every time I stepped foot in this club, and I guess he thinks that he knows me by now because he has a drink in his hand.
“What’s this?” I ask, eyeing the glass warily.
“Same thing you order every time you visit,” he says, his heavily accented voice sounding surprised at my question.
“Umm, I think I want something different tonight,” I say, licking my top lip and pressing my hair back from my face.
“What would that be?”
“She’ll have what I’m having,” a voice behind me says.
I turn to see Alessandro standing behind me.
He’s a beautiful man with dark, olive coloring, full, sensual lips made for kissing, wide-set, angular greyish-green eyes, and a shadow of a beard and mustache.
Broad shoulders would make any woman feel protected. Too bad we couldn’t have met in another lifetime.
