(Listen to the song "Looking at me by Sabrina Carpenter" for chapter vibez)
☘︎ Lʏᴋᴀs Vɪᴛᴀʟʟɪs ☘︎
The Paradise Club resembles a magnanimous concert hall, disco lights like colorful prisms reflecting in the dimly lit confines and rock music blasting from the speakers that are an obvious trip to a possible migraine. Being one of New York's most popular luxury clubs situated at the heart of Times Square and known for hosting live events, the place is packed with people.
My eyes scan the club in urgency, heart thumping in my chest. Jennifer's not on the dance floor among the groping bodies, neither at the bar counters having a drink.
Brows furrowing in confusion and a sliver of dread gripping my conscience, I approach the drinks counter to inquire whether any of the bartenders had seen a certain brunette. Only for my steps to fall short at the sight of my best friend leaning against a bar counter at the far corner.
Romeo Valentino looks like a dark silhouette prone to blending in the shadows, except he could never blend. He is danger personified. Even now when most of the people must not know who he is, the sole heir of the Italian Mafia, they give him a wide berth. Maintaining their distance albeit their eyes sneak traitorous glances at him. Because everything aside, Romeo is well. . .Romeo.
Attractiveness is embedded in his every single feature. Dark, chocolate brown hair swept neatly atop his head, thick brows furrowed in the makings of a scowl and a mouth of carnal desires pinched in their signature displeasure as though he's had enough of the entire human race. He's dressed in absolute crisp black clothes from his custom-tailored shirt to his pants, from the long coat draped over his lean muscled shoulders to the shiny tips of his leather shoes.
A wine glass in one of his leather-gloved hands, Romeo twirls the liquid in a circular motion, not bringing the drink to his mouth. His electric eyes are like an eagle's perusing its prey with concrete focus as he stares intently at something, or rather someone.
Pushing past the sweaty bodies, I sidle next to Romeo. While he's still religiously staring with that very very blank expression of his, I follow the line of his gaze to the familiar face of Jennifer's assistant.
Viviane—I think her name is—clad in a bloodred velvet dress that fits her figure like a glove, shifts the entirety of her shiny raven hair to one side of her shoulder exposing bare neck. She seems to be engrossed in a flirtatious conversation with the bartender, who is utterly smitten by her. Although the sole desire of my heart will always be Jennifer, I cannot deny that Viviane is gorgeous. But with the way Romeo is accessing her like she's a threat. . .no wait, he cannot be serious.
My brows furrow further in doubt. Don't tell me he called me here by trick to rile me and Jennifer isn't even really here. Knowing Romeo, that wasn't impossible. The unlikely company though. . .
Rolling my eyes, I make my presence known, "So that's the 'unlikely company' you mentioned?" I ask, gesturing towards the Viviane girl.
The bastard doesn't even startle at my voice, as if he's known all along I'd been standing beside him. Romeo simply passes me a cursory glance, "I believe so." A long drawl in a heavy Italian accented, deep voice.
Groaning, I rest my elbows on the bar counter and lean back against it, "C'mon dude, what's with your crazy obsession over suspecting everyone who looks innocent? She's a fragile thing. Let her be."
When I say fragile, I don't mean woman as fragile because they're the strongest people I know. Jennifer is a living proof. It is simply that the assistant is so delicate and smiley-faced, I don't get why Romeo would even consider her threatening, judging by the skeptism written all over his face.
"Fragile?" Romeo scoffs, his eyes intently trained on Viviane, "è fragile come una bomba." The velvety snide in his Italian tongue renders me dumbfounded. Italian is one of the languages that never made sense to me.
"What?" I ask before shaking my head, "You know what, I don't want to know. Do you have any idea that you nearly gave me a heart attack? Why did you lie about Jennifer being here?"
"I don't lie." Romeo doesn't even look at me. A single brow raised in mock toast, he lifts his wine glass in a general direction, "There."
Brows furrowing, when I follow his lead to the one place I didn't scan upon my arrival, my jaw nearly drops open.
Because there she is. . .
Jennifer Ryson in all her glory, standing atop the stage, looking like Aphrodite bought to life. Seductive and enchanting, in a shimmering silver mini-dress that barely reaches her mid thighs. The dress clings to her form like a second skin—accentuating the luscious curves of her body, exposing the smooth skin of her long legs strapped in killer heels. Her brunette hair is let open in wild waves and. . .fuck, she looks hot. Like sweet temptation bought to life.
I don't even get enough time to process and stop gawking at her. Because the next minute, the club manager, a middle-aged fella in funky coloured shirt and pants, hops onto the counter with a mike, declaring, "Today's live karaoke-duet to be led by Miss Jennifer and Miss Viviane."
My eyes widen. Wait what?!
At the mention of her name, Viviane perks up, a maddening grin pulling on her blood red lips. For a fleeting minute, I think her gaze flickers to Romeo beside me and his expression shutters down so drastically, I fear he's turned to a statue. But then she shrugs nonchalantly as though it was coincidental and raises two thumbs-up to the host.
Jennifer on the other hand, takes the mike from the host, checking the controls while the onlookers wait with batted breath. From the looks of it, I think many of them know who she is, especially considering this is a club where high-class often linger by. This is their one-time opportunity to see the Jennifer Ryson out of her ice-queen businesswoman element. Thank heavens the fire of the scandal has extinguished by now.
I hate that they all get to see this. Because my selfish ass wants to keep this moment in a treasure box only for me to covet over. Although, like I said, that would be selfish. Perhaps I should intervene. But I'm too intrigued to actually go with it and I respect her way too much to make decisions on her behalf. She can do whatever she wants, I'll always support her.
My eyes soften considerably when I notice how the tension in Jennifer's face is milder than it was the last whole month. It might be due to the fact that she's a bit drunk and tipsy making her cheeks look flushed and her eyes turn slightly glassy, but she seems determined to let go of the immense stress plaguing her the past two weeks. And I'm so fucking proud of her for that. Besides. . . I get to hear her sing.
A new wave of excitement engulfs me, I'm suddenly a kid at Christmas waiting for his presents. An anticipating smile forming on my lips, I pat Romeo's stiff shoulders, "Loosen up. Why are you even in New York though?"
Romeo maintains his no-expression face, taking the first sip from his untouched wine, "None of your business."
Typical Romeo response.
He does care though. In his own Mafia way and that's enough. I know if Romeo willed, people couldn't know anything past his name and he lets me know more about him as it is. It's his own twisted way of expressing he considers me a true friend. He somewhat reminds me of Jennifer in that aspect.
The sound of background music playing snatches my attention back to the stage and to the cause of my eternal damnation.
Jennifer's long, lithe fingers slide along the length of the onstage silver pole in a way that has no business looking so sexual. I watch mesmerized as Jenna brings one hand to her hair, swishing her hips to the sway of the music while her other hand inches the mike close to her lips. It's damn hard to force myself from not stalking upto her and kissing her senseless or taking her right there in front of every idiot who are gaping at her like she's their sinful dreams come to life. . .
The blood coursing through my veins flow hotter. As though a flint to fire, Jennifer's green eyes find mine in the crowd and she winks at me.
🎼🎼🎼
Did I catch your attention?
You look like you lost your breath
When I circle the room, you an owl, you gon' twist your head
🎼🎼🎼
Her voice is the kind of sensual and lilting, it beckons you like a siren's call. Makes you want to fall into the abyss of her embrace and get lost within her eyes. Her movements, they're a seductress moves to enamor you from thinking straight.
Lost my breath? I couldn't fucking get oxygen in.
Jennifer gestures with her mike for someone to continue. One cue, Viviane waves the bartender bye, and walks backwards from the counter holding up a mike to her mouth.
🎼🎼🎼
Don't you come at me green with an attitude
Where my lips and my soles are at
If I leave you behind, you can look for the broken necks, no, no
🎼🎼🎼
Romeo's expression is carefully crafted behind a stoic face, but the rigidness to his shoulders grow tenfold as Viviane approaches him, singing the verses.
Viviane's lips shoot up in a seductive, lethal smile as she takes Romeo's wine glass from his hand, making sure to trail her fingers along the bare skin of his wrist. Bringing the glass to her lips, she sips from the exact spot where Romeo did.
I don't think I'd ever seen my friend more stony than I do now, but it's when their eyes connect that something finally registers. For an onlooker, it might seem like they have a sizzling chemistry but I see it for what it is. Hatred.
The kind of hatred that's raw and sharp, the kind that demands bloodshed and gore. They hate each other. And it's not even the kind of petty rivalry hate Jennifer and I had in the beginning. This is real, dangerous and deep-rooted hate.
My brows furrow. What is happening here? Do they know each other?
But before I can ponder, much to Romeo's relief, Viviane walks away. Collecting another wine glass from the counter on her way, she steps up on the stage and clinks her glass with Jennifer.
Jennifer takes a long shot from the drink in her hand, then passes the glass to one of the hooting audience. The guy who receives it looks like he's going to faint from the attention.
I sit down on a bar stool to calm down, jaw clenching in annoyance but I keep my jealousy in check. My jealousy is my problem, I'm not going to make it her problem.
🎼🎼🎼
Don't just stand there staring, honey
Try to move your feet
If you think they're looking at you
They're looking at me
🎼🎼🎼
It is almost like a soothing balm and testing my patience both when still singing, Jennifer descends the stage, walking across the club's dancefloor with hundreds of eyes following her as though she's a goddess. She looks like one to me. But when she reaches me, lifts that beautiful hand to trail a finger along the side of my face, my eyes shoot upto her in what I pressume must be a heated gaze.
Jenna's own eyes darken and now what I know is with drunken influence, she settles on my lap. Her arms slither up the material of my shirt to wrap around my neck, while her thighs shift so that they're on either sides of my torso on the damn barstool. She doesn't care one bit about the onlookers. Not that I care either. She's my fucking fiance. We can do whatever.
But a quick glance over Jennifer's shoulder, let's me know that Viviane is now continuing the duet by her own and she has the people's attention shifting to her. They're just as smitten by her as they were Jenna. The distraction grants me some much needed privacy.
Shifting my focus back to the heathen straddling my lap, I hold her hips in place to stop her from moving so much, especially when it's affecting certain parts of me to an almost painful level.
Letting a mischievous smirk pull on my lips, my fingers dig into her hips gently but firmly, "Giving me a lap dance, Ryson?"
Because ofcourse she's Jennifer Ryson, she regards my question with a tilt of her head and twinkle in her irises. Her own lips twist in mirth, her lashes sweeping lower to peer at me through hooded green eyes, "Do you want me to give you one?"
The thought alone has my imagination running wild. My hands sensually glide down her hips to her knees. I sense a shiver run down her spine when my hand grips her thigh in a rough grip, fingers touching the bare skin right below the hem of her tiny dress. One of my hands extends to her face, a thumb tracing the shape of her lips before pressing down on her bottom lip. Jenna shuts her eyes, a sigh leaving her mouth. When my hand inches higher up her inner thigh, her breathing labors.
All I want to do is kiss her senseles and do very unholy things to her. But I stop myself and raise her chin up to meet my gaze, "What happened?"
It's like those simple two words cracks the facade she held on in check the whole time, thinking I wouldn't see through it. Her eyes flash open and her entire face crumbles. I feel my heart twist in my chest. I knew something was wrong.
"Jenna. . ." My tone is soft, coaxing her to confide in me.
It doesn't have the intended effect because she pulls back instantly, getting of off me. I grab her wrist in time, my eyes pleading with her, "Don't shut me out like this."
Jenna doesn't have any of it, her expression blanks even though I notice the pain lingering in her eyes. Her voice is colder than antarctic when she says, "Let go."
I do. But then one step away and two and on the third, I can't stay put because of the prickling concern pulling at my soul. I rush after her.
Jennifer walks straight ahead to avoid me, to avoid facing whatever the situation is and grieving over it instead of burying it all in. She burries everything inside her so much. Her affection, her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions. Everything tightly tucked under a lock. And I fear, I fear it's going to be too much for her.
If only I knew how soon I'd see the effects of it-
All the lights and the music turning off in the club is so sudden, that momentarily I'm stuck wondering whether something is wrong with my eyes as darkness envelops my sight. The people start making loud noises, asking what's wrong and to switch on the party lights.
There's no response for a while but then. . .a slow, haunting melody starts echoeing through the speakers. My entire body freezes, recognizing the song in an instant. Fuck fuck fuck.
🎼🎼🎼
Ding dong
Here I come to find you
Hurry up and run
Let's play a little game and have fun
Ding dong
Where is it you've gone to?
Do you think you've won?
Our game of hide and seek has just begun
🎼🎼🎼
I can't see anything in the dark, can't hear a thing above the eerie music and the people demanding to know what is happening.
I'm ignorant to all of it though, pushing through the people with blind vision and stumbling past things just to reach Jennifer somehow. My heartbeat thumps rapidly in my chest with raw worry knowing how the song affects her. The way it provokes her memories with the clown. The hell is happening here?!
And then my worst nightmare greets me in the form of a loud scream. I feel my heart still. I don't need to hear twice to realize who screamed.
Jennifer.
--------᪥♔︎᪥--------
DOES THE CLOWN HAVE NO OTHER JOB THAN TO BOTHER JENNIFER?!?! Like let a girl have a karaoke day in peace please.
Now now, if I had to relate Romeo to someone, it'd be Kaz Brekker. I mean the dress-up and all matches🤪
What are YOUR views on Romeo?
Catch on any hint? Theories?👀