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Chapter 1
Aria
Ittakesussometime, but we finally find a quiet spot in the club to rest for a moment. I’ve been dancing and drinking for hours. Turns out, it only requires the swipe of a credit card to get us into a small, private lounge.
The lounge is comfortable, and the large glass windows offer an excellent view of the club below. I’ve dreamed my entire life of traveling, but I haven’t even seen all there is to see of Chicago yet. I’m in one of Chicago’s most popular nightclubs, and I’ve never been here before. To me, it feels as good as a holiday.
“I can’t believe you’re even here, Aria,” my friend says as she slumps down on the couch next to me.
My vision is already starting to blur, but the night has only just begun. I’ll find an energy drink later. For now, I just want some more alcohol.
“Tell me about it,” I sigh. “I had to jump out of my window to make this happen. I’m just glad I stuck the landing in these shoes!”
“What will you do if your father finds out?” she asks, pushing another drink into my hand. She truly is a good friend.
“He’ll be mad,” I answer with a shrug. “But then again what’s new? I can’t make a move in that house without it upsetting him. He’s so protective of me, I swear I’m going to grow old in that house and die alone at this rate.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she laughs.
“Dramatic?” My voice is louder than even I expected. “The last time a man so much as looked my way in public, my father had his guards escort him away at gunpoint. I’m telling you right now, there’s no hope in finding love for me.”
“Don’t worry,” she teases. “One day your Prince Charming will arrive and sweep you off your feet, and he’ll take you away from all of that.”
“Wouldn’t that be the dream?”
When the crowd on the dancefloor suddenly scatters, it catches my attention. I have little experience with clubbing, and though I’ve never been to this particular club, I know that dancefloors are for dancing. What I am looking at now is certainly not dancing.
The two of us lean closer to the glass to get a better look.
“How’s that for a Prince Charming?” I ask, pointing at a man in the center of the commotion.
“The silver fox?” she asks. “He’s fine, but a little old for my liking.”
In the center of the disruption is a man, older than me, with salt and pepper hair. It isn’t much, but it makes him look sophisticated, like a man with experience in this world.
I watch as the man in question grabs a man by the scruff of his shirt, and pulls him off of a woman. He has such strength that he makes it look easy. The offending man had been bothering just about any girl that crossed his path. There were a few times where I'd put him in his place too.
It comes as no surprise to me when the handsome stranger threatens him, hits him hard with a punch to the face, and motions at the bouncers to drag him out of the club. I’m almost tempted to join the cheers of the crowd below, but I can’t keep my eyes off him.
With every flex of his muscles as he readjusts his clothing, something happens inside of me, something hot and exhilarating. My eyes follow him as he makes his way to the stairs, only to reappear in moments as he walks to a lounge on the same floor we’re standing on. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but by the time he is seated in a plush chair, I am desperate to know what he tastes like. All that from just watching him cross the club.
“So, who are you going to be tonight, then?” my friend asks, a cheeky smile on her face.
“What do you mean?”
“You know how you always give them a fake name?” she laughs. “Why do you do that, by the way?”
“When men learn who my father is, they quickly make an effort to stay away from me,” I explain. “Which, if my father knew that, it would make him happy. But it also means it’s hard for me to have any fun, you know what I mean?”
“Alright, well go introduce yourself then,” she says.
It wasn’t part of my plan to find a companion tonight, but every time I look back in his direction, I feel the temperature of my skin climbing, and that last drink has given me just the confidence I need to go and talk to him.
Our eyes meet before I’m even near him. He watches me walk the last bit of distance, waiting for me to get to him. When I finally do, he leans forward with a wicked smile on his face.
“I’m Edoardo,” he says. “I assume that’s what you were here to find out?”
He has more confidence than I expected, which works in my favor. It means that he can make some of the conversation for me. This may be easier than I anticipated.
