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I roll my eyes. I don’t need a reminder of what happened last time.
“Yes, dear,” I say sarcastically.
He raises his hand to my face and holds my chin in a tight grip in warning. “I mean it. Do not talk to anybody unless I introduce you. And no wandering off either. You will behave tonight or you won’t like the consequences.”
He looks expectantly at me, and I give a tight nod in acknowledgment that I’ve heard him.
What’s crawled up his bum?
He’s Mafia-boss Gualtiero tonight with no sign of the softer island Tiero of the last two days. I know which one I prefer!
We get out of the car with bodyguards flanking us on all sides and enter the club through a back door.
Right away, we’re bombarded with blaring music and strobe lights. Fog machines make the air hazy and let the dancers on the platforms around the dancefloor appear as if drifting in and out the smoke.
I feel a headache coming on from the overstimulation of my senses, and the green exit sign to my right beckons me like a beacon of sanity.
With my hand tightly clasped in his, Tiero follows the path his goons forge to a roped-off, elevated sitting area. His guests are already there and stand as soon as they spot Gualtiero’s powerful figure.
Introductions are made, and the first thing I notice is that his so-called business partners look intimidated as hell. It’s clear who runs the show.
Drinks are served, and I sit dutifully next to Gualtiero, bored out of my brain. I don’t understand much as they speak in Italian. Then one of the guys pulls out a satchel of white powder and pours it on a tray, dividing it into lines with a razor blade. It gets past around, but no one in our party partakes.
I’m shocked to my core, never having witnessed drug-use before.
I stand abruptly.
Tiero is looking at me curiously.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I tell him, but really, I just need to get out of here. I want no part of what’s going on.
Tiero signals to Oriana and Alonso, who are at my side immediately. As I leave the table, two more guards join us, and I’m now flanked on every side.
I’ve somewhat gotten used to having theOrAlteam, as I refer to them in my mind, with me at all times, but four seems excessive to go to the bathroom.
But it’s not like I’m given any choice in the matter, so why argue?
As we walk through the club, I feel curious eyes on me, like bugs crawling over my skin. Involuntarily, I shudder. I wish I could have just stayed at the villa.
When we reach the corridor with the bathrooms, I spot another green exit sign ahead and look at it longingly. Oriana opens the ladies’ door and I know the drill by now. She goes in first to check it’s all clear before I’m allowed to enter.
One of the guards waits beside me, while Alonso and his off sider secure the corridor.
I stand in the door, watching Oriana as she checks one stall after the other, weapon already drawn in one hand. When she gets to the last door…
Puff, puff…
Oriana falls backward, hitting the cold tiles, blood drizzling from a hole between her eyes.
My blood runs cold.
Wide-eyed, I take a step back, staring at the unmoving woman whose disdainful eyes had landed on me just moments earlier. It seems like ages, but it’s only a few seconds before a guttural scream leaves my throat.
Then everything happens in fast motion.
Alerted by my scream, my other guard rushes past me, weapon drawn, but he’s not quick enough. The assailant who killed Oriana gets the first shot. He sinks to the floor, holding his stomach in pain as blood gushes from his wound.
Alonso is by my side immediately and pulls me into the corridor and flattens me against the wall. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins now, my heart palpitating, my chest tingling.
