GRIFFIN
"I have to take this call." I tell my brothers, as I walk down the stairs from the VIP lounge and into the crowded club. One look at the front entrance and I stop mid stride, turning around and walking to the darkly lit hallway, towards the back entrance.
A small, barely perceptible weight collides into my chest making me look up from my phone annoyed. People can't walk these days.
My eyes find the culprit and the sight of familiar deep gray eyes, like a brewing storm, clear my chaotic thoughts in a second of looking into them.
This has to be a sick joke. My brain scans her in one long perusal of her short frame. Short red dress that shows off her obvious curves, brown hair, the strong and bold scent of florals and rain, and her endlessly deep eyes. Everything my background check from 2 years ago comes back, registering into my head again.
Ariel Emilia Russo. 22, lives in California. Went to Princeton. No criminal records, no juvenile records. Her family owns a business in Italy, slight significance to the Mafia.
Nothing that concerns me.
After the 3rd time I saw her in California, I had to make sure she was not following me. I don't see the threat just looking at her but I never underestimate suspicion. Neither do I let it slide.
But running into her is just a coincidence, no matter how many times it happens or how odd the occurrence is.
"Are you following me?" I drawl. Never hurts to ask point blank. I don't beat around the bush. And I can read people like a cheap magazine.
The girl gasps, her already bigger than average eyes widening in offense. I feel my lips twitch.
"What?" She asks, her tone deeply offended. I just stare at her. "I was going to ask you that. It was semi-normal and convincing till we were in America but this time we're in Europe." She again, widens her eyes. It's amusing in a peculiar way.
"Which is why I am asking, are you following me." I ask again, my tone casual.
"No. I am not. Why would I, you're just some guy I played truth or dare with once in college and haven't been able to stop seeing since." Her tone is clipped. "I don't even know your last name." She raises her eyebrows in triumph.
The truth or dare game that I still remember to this day. The only reason I sat there and indulged in nonsense college antics was her. She looked incredibly uncomfortable and I didn't exactly like the way my friends stared at her. Now she's calling me some guy.
You are some guy. And she's just some girl.
"And you probably never will, Storm." The name slips before I can stop myself. She gasps again. Jesus she does that alot.
"Don't call me Storm." she frowns. "You didn't tell me, what are you doing in Rome if not following me." she says, her words accusing.
"I live here, Ms. Russo." I deadpan. "But that in no capacity explains why you are here, when you live in California." Ariel presses her lips together and nod once, satisfied with her silence.
Before she can come up with a, I walk around her short frame and exit from the back door.
As I talk to a shipment manager in France over the phone, my mind wanders to deep gray eyes and soft features. Suspicion is a dangerous streak in my world. Once I doubt someone, it's hard to shake them from my thoughts. Though it's not quite the same this time.
Yeah you don't picture peoples eyes when you doubt their intentions.
I brush off my thoughts, hanging up while the guy on the line was mid sentence. He was pissing me off.
I walk back into the loud club, my eyes scanning the area as I take the stair up.
"Saw you talking to a smokeshow. Who is she?" Carlos wiggles his eyebrows making me look at him with a disinterested expression. "What? If you're not going to try on her, I might want to. I have a thing for girls in red dresses." He smiles lazily.
My jaw clenches. In annoyance.
"No." I say simply. He shrugs, going back to talking to some blond next to him.
I walk to the bar, the bartender silently fills up a glass of scotch. I pick it up and sip leisurely, looking onto the dance floor beneath me.
It doesn't take long before my eyes zero in on a body clad in flowing red silk, moving with sensual grace on the dance floor. Her expression is unlike I have ever seen it.
I talk like I have known her for years. In truth I know only scraps. I met for the first time in my 3rd year at Princeton. She was short, timid and looked pale with fear the entire time she was inside the Frat House.
She was inimitable. In a college full of people drinking and indulging in their libido, she was the exception. I saw her around campus, feeding stray cats, sitting down under trees. In a place full of of people who thought themselves the highest of the bunch, Ariel was a rare moment of genuine personality.
So when she looked like she would cry if another man spoke to her at that party, I made sure everyone there knew she shouldn't be messed with.
Soon college swarm with the news that anyone who spoke to her would have me to answer to. It wasn't true. I never implied any of it with words but I heard the whispers. I couldn't give less of a shit what anyone thought. And if Ariel cared, or if she even knew, she never spoke a word about it to me. Or a word to me period.
After I graduated I took on more responsibilities in the family business. Ares needed his Underboss in training and life took me by the balls.
And I never expected I would see her again, didn't pay much attention to it. But I did see her again. And again. Enough times that her face is a distinctive one now. I can spot her from a mile away.
Which I have done before.
I watch as she sways her body to the music, dancing with another girl. I assume she knows her.
"Griff I'm going to head home. Alana wants cake." Ares says, looking at his phone. "You coming? Carlos already left and Aaron is practically dry humping that girl." he drawls.
"No, you go ahead I'm going to have another drink."
Ares gives me a look that seems to question me but he doesn't say anything before he's gone.
I look back at the small figure on dance floor, finishing off my drink.
I continue lounging around till I see Ariel and her friend finally leave and get into a car. I get into my own car speed home.
I didn't plan on staying that long.
