◭ PLEASE READ ◭
This is the changed version of the previous first chapter, "Good luck and some bad". I've decided that I would like to restart this story, sort of. Same characters. A bit of a different storyline and a slight change in attitude of the characters you've already met. I hope that all of my readers enjoy this change so, hopefully I get lots of feedback and help you understand a bit more the of the characters i know you'll grow to love just as I have!
◭ END OF NOTE ◭
You don't own me.
I'm not just one of your many toys.
You don't own me.
Don't say I can't go with other boys.
"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin me man! It was just a fucking roofie!" A man who stood on the opposite side of the bar struggled against one of the several large bouncers who were pushing his thick wrists into a set of cuffs. It was as average of a night as any other. A creepy older man tried to get some kind of powdered substance into a young girl's drink and if it hadn't been for mariella standing right there, flat out catching this man attempt to be sly, that poor girl would've gone missing.
"Again, I mean, thank you so much. I was so stupid-"
The petite brunette raised one of her dainty hands, a gentle laughter leaving her lips. "No, I don't mind, it happens, y'know?" Returning her attention to the wet countertop, she briskly wiped it down with a white cloth, quietly sighing. Every five minutes that went by, her eyes would be checking the cheap watch on her wrist. It wasn't even 11 yet and she was ready to head for the hills. You'd think working in a club owned by some super hot russians would always keep the party living, but not when you worked for them.
It was nothing but serious cleaning and a barely above average paycheck.
"You know, Ms- Bellandi, You look like you could use a little bit of fun, hm?"
She raised her head, her perfectly shaped eyebrows knitting together in confusion before she rolled her eyes playfully, giving the slightest of shrugs but she couldn't help another lighthearted laugh at the way the young blonde waggled her eyebrows. "And do what exactly? Moving from behind this counter means I get an earful of words I don't speak," Though she couldn't lie, looking at everyone else around her dancing around and enjoying life did make her the slightest bit jealous.
She wasn't even dressed for a clubbing occasion. A simple pair of shorts and a red top that read bold letters, criado. It wasn't exactly a name held by the russians who worked along here, but to the big boss that didn't make an appearance often in the club, or ever in front of her for that matter. But, from what she'd heard, he was supposedly a real asshole.
"Well, for one, you can live a little and take a time out. Five minutes. That's it," A devious glint of a smile crossed the blonde's soft features and for some reason, she found it quite hard to deny, the idea even appealed to her. Five minutes couldn't hurt, right?
"I don't even know your name-"
"Angela Fausti. Now, get your ass around that counter and come dance with me!" The sudden raise of her voice made Ella realize just how loud the booming bass shook her core, and she allowed the sound of Disclosure and Sam Smith to lure her from behind the counter but only after telling another worker she had to take a quick bathroom break.
Aside from her roommate and best friend, Lola, she hadn't associated too much with any other girl, and it was nice to have more female company. As she was tugged out into the dance floor, she stood eye to eye level with Angela who was just about her height. At first she was quiet stiff, nervously glancing round for any sightings of her bosses. It made her anxious, and that wasn't something she enjoyed.
Somehow she had already found herself trying to return to her spot behind the counter but a pair of hands on her hips kept her face forward on the blue eyed blonde. With her hands burning hot, she could feel the heat through the thin material of her cotton shirt. Eyes wide, her hips were guided by the small set of hands.
"Just have fun!" She roared playfully over the music, giggling to herself and flashing a contagious smile. The feeling of a strangers hands on her hips didn't appeal to her well at all, but this was supposed to be fun, right? She'd definitely need a shot, but for now, she simply felt adrenaline and euphoria creeping onto her that oozed from bodies tightly pressed together, dancing, sweating, enjoying the simple pleasure of skin against more skin. Her arms had snaked around Angela's neck, a small grin of her own forming onto her lips.
The two girls suddenly became the center of attention. Nothing but bright smiles, waves of hot air moving over them and positive energy that attracted another set of hands just above Angela's. By now the song had changed, new music bringing new rhythmic swings to her hips. What was she doing? A gentle haze covered her skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat, her head leaning back onto the firm body that held her hips. The two set of hands became only one, and once her eyes had opened fully, the bottle blond no longer stood in her view.
"Angela?" She called quietly, furrowing her eyebrows when she felt breath brushing against her earlobe lightly. Goosebumps raised along her skin, prickling in excitement and confusion as she spun quickly, whipping around.
Her eyes slowly drank in a man who easily doubled her height. His hair was in a mess of unruly curls that couldn't be easily contained, giving the sense that this man had rolled out of bed and suddenly decided he'd come out tonight. Now she had cotton mouth. The need for water only grew while her eyes continued to follow down his face, his eyes quite dark and nearly black that connected to his rough facial structure. She'd be lying if she said he was unattractive. She could stand before this man all day and marvel the masterpiece that stood in front of her, but it didn't take a genius to know he probably got his fair share of women.
Now that turned her off.
"If I was angela, you probably wouldn't be eye-fúcking me the way you are, now would you?" Tilting his head ever so slightly, a cocky grin graced his full lips, one dimple caving in his right cheek.
"And who said I was eye-fúcking you?" Why did she feel the sudden need to defend herself against a man she didn't even know?
"I apologize, I just assumed the drool on the corner of your lips would be a dead giveaway that you were in fact eye-fúcking me, Bellandi."
His mention of her last name had thrown her off for a few short moments, leaving her to curiously reach for the corner of her lips where there was indeed saliva. She wiped at it quickly, blush creeping up her neck in utter embarrassment. This was her punishment from moving behind the counter, and one thing was for sure, if she ever saw Angela again she'd have no choice other than to choke her out for leaving her alone.
"Whatever," Muttered the brunette who rolled her eyes. She stalked past him, catching the clenching of his jaw in the corner of her eye. Oh god, that jawline. A hand shot out, catching her wrist quickly. With instinct kicking in, she turned on the opposite heel, swinging the back of her hand backwards in one swift movement, coming in contact with the stubble of the mysterious hot guys' cheek.
He silently stared at her, having no reaction of pain or disappointment, but shock, as if he couldn't believe this woman had enough balls to hit him. His grip loosened as he continued to stare with quite the confused expression and he allowed her to run off deeper into the crowd without chasing. She didn't look back, continuing to look forward with a small frown on her face. Her hand stung from the force of that hit and it disappointed her that it hurt her more than him.
Irritated, she rubbed at the back of her palm, her eyes down once she returned to the counter where the only man to occupy the space was none other than one of her bosses. Cursing under her breath, she attempted to slide past his view and make it into the back room, but she could already feel eyes burning into her, and from the corner of her eyes she could see him gesturing for her to come. And it wasn't a questioning gaze. It was demanding.
Fúck.
Forcing a fake smile onto her lips, she made her way over to the considerably round man. His hair was slicked back and his brown eyes stared at her with pure anger. Apparently 5 minutes had turned into 15, and with one thing leading to another, she was now standing in the back room with the round man screaming russian sentences into her face. Of course, one slip up and here she was being forced to listen to things she couldn't even comprehend and understand. Why her? Everyday she would be here on time, no complaints from any of the customers she'd ever had and no distractions with the exception of this one time. But if she was sleeping with the guy, he'd turn a blind eye just as he did with the rest of the female—and male employee population.
But there was no way in hell she was doing that.
After only a few minutes more of incessant yelling, the round man stormed up to her, ripping the black name tag from her shirt, rising a gasp out of her before leaving out of the back room red faced and probably relieved. It didn't take a genius to know she was fired, especially after losing her name card, and the thought of being fired over something so stupid as to dancing for a few minutes frustrated her. It took her a moment to collect herself, and to keep herself from leaking tears. Even though no one was around to see, crying in public was something she'd never do. Not even on her worst day.
Inhaling a deep breath, she decided against allowing anything else to upset her into tears, at the very least until she got home.
Back to the drawing board, I guess.