Cosa Nostra

Chapter One - FML

The man that sat beside me pushed my drink across the table toward me, and casually leaned back in the booth. He weaved his arm behind me and leaned closer until his lips were right next my ear. Even though he was extremely close, and in normal circumstances, he would only have to whisper for me to hear him, but the music was loud and he had to raise his voice to a shout. "C'mon, bambola, just one drink."

    I looked at him, at his black hair, and how it was laced with waves, and framed his face perfectly. Then, I looked at his dark, brown eyes, and in the dim lighting of the club, they looked to be black. I looked at his perfect eyebrows, and his long eyelashes that girls dream of. I looked at his unblemished skin, and his stubble that covered the lower portion of his face. I looked at his lips, and immediately averted my eyes from there. They were perfect also.

    My gaze traveled lower, and even though he was wearing a black button up shirt, I could see the outline of his biceps. The sleeves were rolled partially up his arms, exposing his forearms and the veins that protruded from his skin. His blue jeans were tight around his thighs. I knew then that this guy was fit, and he could crush me with just a flick on my forehead. He was definitely giving off a dangerous vibe, but I found myself to be so fascinated of him.

    My eyes traveled back up to meet his, and from the wicked gleam that was lingering in his eyes, he knew that I was checking him out. His face was still close to mine, but I brought my face just a little more closer and I had to practically scream to be heard. "I'm not supposed to take drinks from strangers."

"It's not drinks, as in plural, but just one drink," his voice was deep, and it was lace with a heavy Italian accent. In short, it was melodic, something I could listen to all day. He pointed toward the opposite side of the club at a group of men who were also sitting and watching us. "Listen, my friends over there and I made a bet, bambola, and they said that there was no way I could win you over, so pity me," he tapped my drink, "and have just one drink with me."

    I looked over at his friends again, at how they were all dangerously handsome. Alarm bells were going off somewhere deep in my mind, but I couldn't concentrate, not with the loud music, the people dancing, and laughing. My gaze drifted over to the dancing crowd of people, of their clothes skin tight, and sweat gliding off their bodies. Their faces were pure bliss in the neon strobe lights. Nobody looked like they were slightly on edge, like something bad was going to happen, so why should I be on edge?

    One arm still over my shoulder, he used his free hand and twirled a piece of my blonde hair around his finger. "So what do you think, bambola, just one drink?"

    I watch his finger, and how his wrist made such graceful movements, I was memorized, but alert all at the same time. "I think, that you don't even know my name, and let me give you a hint, it is not bambola."

    A smirk appear on his face, twisted his featured into something even more dark, and even more memorizing. I was really beginning to hate this guy. "What is your name, bambola?"

    "Celeste," it was only a murmured, but I knew he somehow heard it.

    "Celeste," he rolled it off his tongue, drawing out each syllable. "It's very angelic sounding." His eyes turned wicked as he raked my body. His eyes traveled from my blonde hair to my brown eyes. From there his eyesight skimmed the freckles that splattered my cheeks and nose, and they hovered on my lips for a second longer than normal. His eyesight went even lower, it went to my chest, and I felt a blush creeping up my neck, then it went down my torso to my legs. He brought his eyesight back up to meet mine, slowly. "And it suits you."

    I brought my gaze down as my cheeks turned red. My heart began to hammer inside of my chest. This guy was, well, smooth, and it was working. I was flattered.