I stood somewhere in the center of the club, surrounded by strangers jamming to the music. So loud, that my eardrums started to hurt.
The colorful lights shone across the room, enlightening the people's faces. My eyes scanned the crowd with the hope, that a friend or acquaintance of mine visited today.
Normally, it's always the case, but this time? No sight of anybody. My heart began to pound harder, as the sixth sense, told me, that someone would be watching me. This specific gaze left burn marks on my bare skin. Not only now. The moment I arrived here.
Do I look stupid? Did my dress flip up? Is my fringe disheveled again?
I immediately checked. Grazing my hands over the black, silky fabric of my relatively scant dress. Pulling the hem a bit more down, attempting to make it seem longer.
The stare made me insecure. I didn't know where it came from, or if there even was someone doing so.
You're paranoid, Lara.
My gaze traveled over the crowd, searching for the intruder. Nothing.
Not even a single pair of eyes fixated on me. Everybody minding their business. Near the entrance a group of people. Another one is near the restrooms.
But, a person was standing out. Right in the corner. Maybe it was just my perception, even though I'm almost sure he's the one, observing me for a while now.
Gold-blond hair long enough to tie to a low ponytail. Loosened strains, he used as bangs. Nipping on his whiskey. From what I could tell from afar, is that he has a sense of fashion. Leger. A black polo shirt, combined with trousers in the same color.
For whatever reason my knees weakened. I ripped my glances away from him and turned away. It's rude to stare. He might watch someone else.
The speakers blasted "Rude Boy" by Rihanna through the room. Finally a good song after half an hour. Indigo needs to hire a new DJ as soon as possible.
I took a deep breath, calming myself down. My heart wouldn't stop beating so fast, that I had a feeling it would jump straight out of me.
My feet started hurting from wearing uncomfortable high heels. I won't go home, unless this stare stops, doesn't matter how foolish this sounds.
Not so far away from me, two drunk guys got into a fistfight. The doorman split them apart, banning both of them from the club. Grabbing one by the collar and dragging him out.
Completely paralyzed I followed the drama, not noticing a person standing behind me. The prosperous, citrusy scent covered my sense of smell.
His body warmth projected onto mine. However, we weren't touching. My skin didn't even stroke his, and neither did he mine.
"Isn't it too dangerous for a woman to be on her own in a club?" The voice behind me questioned. A deep and manly voice, but along with a hint of carefulness. His tone sent a shiver down my spine.
I sought the air sharply in, thinking of the best possible answer.
"Be confident" My ego said.
"I don't see menace, I couldn't handle on my own. No."
My body turned around on its own, to ensure I was talking to the person, I imagined them to be. Handsome from afar. Even more handsome nearby.
His emerald green eyes scanned my body from top to bottom unhurriedly. Facial expression remained emotionless. Only his quick swallow betrayed him, as he glimpsed at my hips. I want to see what's behind the curtain of his emotions. Definitely, more than he shows.
"You seem rather confident about taking care of yourself. Let me ask you, Cariña. What if I was the danger?" Cariña. What?
I took a deep breath and looked him directly in the eyes. You could determine it as a staring contest.
"Then I would walk away."
"And if I were to follow you?"
My heart dropped six feet under, but somehow my face didn't lose its playful mask.
"Then there's something called 'the police'."
For the first time, he showed a reaction and let out a chuckle. The man nipped on his whiskey, scanning me.
"You know, I'm getting a feeling that it's impossible to impress you."
My view drowned in him. Sought his beauty in.
"Maybe approaching someone the way you did, isn't an adequate method to impress. It's frightening." Frightening might not be the right word. A more suitable term would be 'I-don't-know-how-to-feel-but-I-kinda-like-it'.
"Frightening enough to let you hold eye contact after all."
His sentence gave me a last confidence boost to not let my body language betray me.
"You're lost in translation, I assume?"
„Tell me. What would happen if a man managed to impress you?" A subtle smirk occurred on my lips. I dearly admire his enthusiasm and confidence.
"You would need to find out."
His eyes sparked with an emotion I couldn't specify. "I will gladly take that as a challenge."
The man in graceful clothes leaned a little over towards me. The smell...Dior Sauvage...?
"Do you want to dance?"
I tilted my head to the left. „I usually don't dance with men, whose names I don't know."
My voice sounded so secure, even though I felt pure insecurity inside. How long am I able to stay strong? Keep up with his little game?
"Then I must be an exception? It's Matteo. Matteo Díaz, Cariña." Cariña. This is the second time he calls me this word. What does it even mean?
"Díaz? You're Spanish?"
"I'm Puerto Rican."
Don't say something stupid, Lara...
"Puerto Rican? So you're a red flag? Don't you know what they say about male Boricuas?" Nevermind.
I expected him to take me seriously. To roll his eyes at me and leave. Instead, he just laughed and shook his head in an unserious manner.
"That we are cheating a lot? Jealous? Controlling? You must've dated enough of us to make that kind of a statement."
I cocked an eyebrow. "No, but my friends did. They all had the same experience."
"Maybe you should have one by yourself. Prejudices make people delusional."
No words escaped my mouth as I felt how he continuously played along. My bunch of ideas were running out.
"Tell me. What's your name, I can't let you be the only one of us who judges too early."
I smiled and examined his appearance further and stopped at his hands. Veiny. Slim. A silverish clock snatched around his wrist.
"Sequiera, Lara."
My hand stretched out to Matteo on its own. It's a reflex I can't control. Maybe it's too late to introduce formally.
He smoothly took my hand in his and led it in his face's direction. Before my thoughts could work properly again, his lips already touched the back of my hand, and placed a gentle kiss on it.
Gentle but enough to cause a shiver to run down my spine. The sweat beads forming on the palm of my hand must have been the signal for him to notice. Or the persuading shaking?
When was the last time, that a man kissed my hand? Do gentlemen still exist? Somehow.
"Sounds Latin American to me."
"That's a correct guess. I'm Brasileira."
I noticed his little smile and he only glanced briefly away, trying to hide it.
"I guess, I already received a taste of your hot temper?"
"Not yet. I'm usually calm."
We passed the bar, where he placed the empty glass. My friend who works there as a barkeeper shot me a knowing look, before letting his jaw drop slightly, but closing it immediately again. Cain, what do you mean? I can't read your emotions from afar. My thoughts snapped back to Matteo.
His and my eyes locked again. A long time. He still wouldn't let go of my hand, leading me towards a rather large free spot in the room.
As his thumb lightly stroked over my knuckle my knees nearly gave up. If I would overstate the situation, I would slide over the floor. Nevertheless, I kept my cool, reminding myself that he was just a stranger.
My hips automatically started moving to the music and stayed as close to him as possible to understand what he was saying.
"How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-one. You don't look older than 25."
I received a small nod.
"I'm one year older than you." He leaned over and it made me acknowledge our height difference. 5.3ft and over 6ft...? Or I'm just really a loser when it comes to guessing one's height. Our cheeks brushed feebly against the other.
"May I touch you, Lara Sequiera?" My name is spoken as if you would cut butter with a heated knife. I automatically let out a heavy breath owing to his hot one against my neck.
"Why would you?" I didn't need to have a mirror right now to prove myself, that my eyebrows were drawn together and my head slightly tilted away from him.
"Because that's one thing you should do while dancing with somebody." His thumb caressed my wrist and waited for an answer.
"If you don't get any stupid ideas." Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around his neck. Not sure, what else I should do with my hands.
"Don't worry, Cariña. That's not my intention." I don't know if I should believe him. Why else would you approach a woman that way? AND WHY AM I LETTING HIM SO CLOSE? Naivety at its highest. And I love it.
I don't want to open my eyes and view him as a jerk. Every time I got with a man, it didn't last longer than a day. And I'm not lying. Matteo will do the same to me and this night is the only opportunity to get to know him.
He looked down at me, positioning his hands on my lower- and upper back. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest at the feeling of the sudden warmth right there. We held incredibly intense eye contact while moving to the rhythm. It's not my understanding of what dancing is, but I'm not complaining.
The constantly moving lights caused my brain to ache, but also his watch, settled with diamonds, to shine.
"What do you do for a living?"
"I might not look like it, but I'm a CEO."
What.
"And what kind of business do you own? You're famous or something?"A delightful simper formed on his lips.
"Me as a person? Not really. I like to work from the shadows. But my company is successful I guess. It's an IT company, which does security systems. Mostly for phones and laptops but also buildings like schools."
I raised both of my brows, hearing that.
"What about you?" "I'm an interior architect, nothing special."
He shook his head and fondled my back. "Don't say like that, Cariña. Your job is very necessary. Especially for people like me, who have no sense of how to design and decorate properly." His words earned a blush on my cheeks.
"Is that so?" "Yes, I need one for my office. If you are interested, let me know and we can talk about it more in detail."
Matteo reached for a business card in his pocket and handed it over to me. The matt black was put in the background by the golden lettering.
E and F as capital letters annexed with each other, which must be the logo. Edge Force? That's the name? It sounds hella kinky to be fair.
But for sure I can't say it out loud.
"Thank you, I'll text you tomorrow or later, I don't know yet." The blinding lights continued, shining directly into my eyes, so I had to blink a couple of times and rub my aching forehead.
"Are the lights hurting you?" "A bit."
"Let me guess, migraines?" Matteo's pupils were dilated and there was a touch of worry in his facial expression.
"Okay, that's an exaggeration. But it makes me uncomfortable to be fair." He took my hand again and nodded towards the floor next to the bar.
"We can go somewhere different in the meantime." I let him take the lead and we made our way through the crowds. The dark tiles helped the room to be enlightened by phones and disco lights. I've never been on this floor before...
The sign on the door in front of us said: Staff only!
"Matteo. We're not allowed to go there, let's just take it outside." But he already opened the pewter flush door, leading to a tiny chamber. Every shelf is stacked with bottles of every kind of alcohol. "I have the permission. The owner of the club is my client." Is he truly a CEO or just bluffing? I guess, nobody would make so much effort for lying and even designing a business card.
Carefully, while examining my surroundings, I stepped inside. Matteo shut the door behind us and tried to switch on the lights. It wasn't functioning and we remained silent in the darkness. Only the music and the light switch's clicking made me realize where we were.
No matter where I would take a step, every single one would be stopped by a shelf or him. "Maybe it's an advantage that the light is not working, so you can get a break." "Maybe..."
I sharply sought the air in, as I felt his hands wrapped around my hips, pulling me close. The dark prohibited me from seeing his face, but my intuition told me that his fleer didn't vanish.
My hands searched for his chest, placing them there. Even though the wooly material of the polo was thick enough, I felt his abs beneath it.
No alcohol in my body, but yet my brain not working normally. Who would do a 7-minute-of-heaven-like activity with a stranger?
"I wish I could see your face right now," Matteo whispered into my ear and the electricity hustling through my veins couldn't even be measured in ampere.
"Just to see the redness of your cheeks." He added. The sentence is spoken with an impish undertone.
"I'm not red. Don't get too ahead of yourself." I contradicted, acting like there would be dust resting on his shoulder blade, just to stroke over it.
"I'm not stupid nor deaf, Cariña. I can hear your rapid, heavy breathing and your heartbeat." I shook my head. Right before we could continue having our never-ending flirts and nudges his phone rang.
"I'm sorry, I have to pick this up." Matteo sighed, as he viewed the screen. Alano? Who's that?
Words in Spanish, spoken so quickly I could barely understand filled the room. My mother language is Portuguese, yes. But I'm really bad when it comes to speaking Spanish or comprehending it. The bits and pieces of words here and there made me figure out the need for their conversation.
I took a step back, shuddering at the feeling of something behind me, pressing against my back. The bottleneck of any beverage. Coldness took over, without feeling his touch. He's a stranger. You shouldn't even want him to touch you. But why did he need to be exactly my type? Not only in terms of looks. Also in terms of personality and humour...
They yapped about something like work, which needs to be done by tomorrow, and a spontaneous meeting in the next 30 minutes. The urge of such, I didn't hear.
Matteo declared his goodbyes before sighing out loud. Courageous, I approached him, muttering in Spanish that I understood his conversation (Even if not fully). "Sounds like we need to work a bit on your Spanish skills."
"At least I don't need to have an appointment at ten P.M." I provoked. What is so urgent, that you need to leave so late for a meeting? Luckily I'm not a CEO. Is it normal for them?
"Tell me, how did you get here?" Díaz opened the door and held it for me. The sudden flood of light hurt my eyes immensely and forced me to blink several times. I walked out of the staff's. "Why?" I asked, keeping my sights on the ground and following him through the crowd.
"I won't let you walk away on your own, while it's night and you're alone and unprotected." We arrived at the entrance and with one look at the window I could see the outside. Trees stagger to the impactful wind. It was pouring rain and the breeze's frostiness overwhelmed me. It's summer and not supposed to have weather like such.
"Fuck." Matteo groaned next to me and leaned against the glass window, surrounded by neon lights.
"Yeah..." I intertwined my own hands and my lips formed into one single line. Awkward...
His dark green eyes glued to my body. My legs. Hips. Before he gaped at my cleavage, the scanning stopped. Probably, Matteo had a lock inside of him, which kept him away from doing something inappropriate.
"I'll drive you home."
"But-"
"No."
He grabbed after my hand, leading me outside and the raindroplets hit me everywhere. They fell from the clouds as if they were racing.
I tried my best not to trip with my high heels but my attempts were rather problematic. Every inch farther was at least one gigantic groove or puddle.
In an instant, my heel slipped into a gap between two concrete stones as I lost balance and tripped. Right before my knees could hit the ground and drop into a puddle, which would make the water splash somewhere even higher than my calves, Matteo grabbed under my arms and lifted me over his shoulder. With ease. Just like I would weigh nothing.
"Careful, Cariña. By now you should discover, why I don't let you walk home." Funny.
"A funny one, aren't you?" His hand rested on my lower back. Firmly. Making sure I stuck to him like a Velcro fastener.
The lay of shame.
Tripping in front of a man who you barely know, isn't the finest thing one can do.
Some people passing by ogled us strangely, presumably believing, I would be drunk or unconscious. I felt like a slack sack.
We turned off into a little alleyway towards the parking lot. He grabbed into his pocket after a car key and pressed the button. I lifted my head, just to catch a glimpse of a sports car's lights probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, blinking. It was as black as Matteo's polo shirt. Matching with the night sky.
He walked around it and opened the passenger door, placing me gently onto the grey leather seat. So slowly, one could assume it wasn't raining and he has all the time in this world. Before I was able to pull my leg insides by myself, the blond already captured and positioned them in the footwell.
At least the door I was able to close by myself as he joined me in and started the motor. He opened the glove compartment, grasped after a soft wine-red blanket and deposited it over me. Wrapping it around me with a bright smile on his face.
"I don't want you to get sick. Where do you live?" "Manchester Street, 27." Matteo pulled off, as he tapped my address into his navi.
The car was silenced. My lips quivered and even the blanket wouldn't keep me warm. Raindroplets having a race down the window and I tried to count how many there were. The drops remind me of his tears, the time, he broke down in our garden.
As always.
The darkness reminds me of him. Of his black eyes and hair.
"You live alone?" Díaz questioned and navigated into the busy street, that leads to my apartment.
"No. I live with my best friend, what about you?"
"I'm on my own." I imagine him as the lonely CEO who has a vast manor all for himself. Scaring away his surroundings and sleeping with tons of women.
But maybe he has interesting hobbies and many friends? He's so inscrutable. It could be everything.
It was too late to ask more questions about him, as the soulless columns of the underground car park ranged to the ceiling. A dull place. Empty of life but full of mechanics.
He parked in a free space and rushed to my side, opening the door. I placed the blanket on his seat and stood up, making sure there wasn't a hole my heel could slip in.
Matteo beamed at me, closing the door. I positioned my palms on his chest giving it a few pats. My voice echoed through the silent place.
"Thank you, Díaz."
"No problem, Cariña. Should I lead you to your apartment?" My trust issues dominated my brain and answered for me instead. He already knows where I live, but doesn't need to know my apartment number. "No thanks. You better don't come late to your appointment." He scratched his head, glimpsing down to the car. "Right..."
Swiftly, I whirled around and hurried to the elevator. I let out a heavy, exhausted breath as I leaned against the metallic wall and saw myself in the extensive mirror. My cheeks were completely reddish.
The places where he touched me looked in the reflection transparent. Nonetheless, I was able to feel these places tingling and letting the end of my nerve cells alarm me.
What a night...