Presley gasped and sat up in bed. Her hands flew to her face, touching the scars on her chin and lip before she pulled them back to see if they were covered in blood. Nothing. It had just been a dream.
She grabbed her phone and checked her alarm system to make sure everything was still armed. Letting a low breath out, she scrambled out of bed, rubbing her arms to rid herself of the lingering nightmare.
She made her bed and saw the time. She had to start getting ready to meet Tally at the club. Even though the dream had shaken her up, there was no way she was going to miss her best friend’s birthday.
The loud music gave Presley a headache as soon as she arrived. It wasn’t a good sign. She was hours late, and the club wasn’t her thing, but she had promised Tally that she would show up.
The bouncer let her in when she flashed her invitation. Dirty Habits was an exclusive hot spot for the young and dumb, and, of course, Tally’s new favorite.
She tugged down the bottom of her glittery T-shirt dress with its deep V-neck as she made her way toward the elevated VIP area. The reserved section was split into two areas, one to the left and one to the right, with a private bar and bathrooms at the back.
Presley spied the birthday girl herself, dancing like a fool, and smiled. She started up the stairs, maneuvering through the crowd of bodies.
There was a large group of men blocking a good portion of the walkway. They were well-dressed and speaking in what sounded like Italian. She went to step around them.
She placed the heel of her black, red-bottomed stiletto on the next step when one of the large men gestured with his arm, catching her on the shoulder and causing her to stumble.
“Elio, you fucking idiot!” someone yelled behind her.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry, miss! Are you okay?”
The man who bumped into her, Elio, held his hand out, but she shooed him away as she straightened. Tally came down the stairs in a flurry of tulle and sparkles.
“Oh my gawd, Press,” Tally slurred. “Are you okay?”
Presley smiled at the man, letting him know she was fine as she took Tally’s outstretched hand. They made their way to their table.
The area across from theirs was filled with men in designer suits like the one that knocked her over. Presley sat with her back toward them, but it felt as though someone was watching her from the darkened corner.
She shrugged it off, pasting a smile on her face. Hugs and kisses were passed around as Presley greeted Tally’s friends from work and school.
She recognized a few faces and was glad she knew a few of the people present. She grabbed a bottle of water from the table and sipped on it as she tried to engage in a conversation she could barely hear over the thumping beats.
Several bottle girls interrupted, carrying bottles of champagne with sparklers coming out of their tops. They presented the festive beverages to Tally, who jumped up and down in excitement. There was well over a grand of bubbly being poured into tall, thin glasses and passed around the wild group of girls.
One of the bottle girls gestured over to the group of men, including the one that had knocked Presley over, saying that these were sent with the compliments of the gentlemen in the corner.
“Come on, Press,” Tally squealed. “Let’s go thank them.”
“I—” Presley started to say, but Tally was already pulling her toward the shadowed corner.
They stopped in front of the man who had run into Presley.
“Hey! Thanks for the bubbly!” Tally shouted. “It’s my birthday!”
“Well, happy birthday and no problem,” he said. “My boss thought it would be a nice apology.”
Tally wandered over to thank the striking young Italian man who watched Presley over her shoulder. She looked away, standing awkwardly beside the guy who had run into her.
“I really am sorry about knocking you down,” he apologized again. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’m Elio.”
He held out his hand.
“Presley,” she said as they shook. “It’s really no problem. You didn’t have to buy us drinks. But we appreciate it. We’re celebrating, and my friend feels extra special now.”
“We’re celebrating too. My uh, boss got a promotion recently.”
“Oh, well, tell him congratulations for me,” Presley said as Tally returned.
“Oh my gawd, Press. You should go ask the guy in the corner out. He’s so hot and nice! Besides,” she said with a drunken smile, “he was asking about you.”
“I’m sure he was, Tal,” Presley said with an eye roll. “Come on, let’s get some more bubbles.”
The music was pounding as they sat, and Presley finally felt herself start to relax after a few glasses of champagne. Tally disappeared for a second but rushed back, pulling Presley onto the dance floor.
Presley felt warm from the alcohol and started swaying her hips. She knew her dress was dangerously close to flashing her lace tanga panties but didn’t care. She put her arms up in the air as Tally danced around her, the ruffles of her tulle skirt bouncing up and down to the beat of the bass.
She saw the bottle girls return with trays of shots and head toward the men in the corner. Tally giggled.
“I sent them some shots to celebrate. Told the girls to let the handsome boss man know they were from you!” she sang.
Presley watched as several heads swiveled toward her. She flushed and nervously raised her glass. Tally knew she hated being the center of attention.
The men raised their shot glasses, shouting “salute” before they threw them back. Presley took the opportunity to escape to the restroom.
After using the facilities, she took several deep breaths, wiping the anxiety-induced sweat from under her boobs. After she felt like she had gotten a grip, she fixed her makeup and messy ponytail before exiting the bathroom.
She stopped by the bar and got a bottle of water. She’d had enough to drink tonight. As she took a sip, she noticed the music had been turned down slightly, making it tolerable.
“Thank you.”
The deep voice startled her. She whipped around to find the large, handsome man from the corner, Elio’s boss, standing behind her. Several of his men were off to the side, standing close enough to hear but not involving themselves in the conversation.
She focused back on the tall Italian. His dark eyes watched her, his hands resting in the pockets of his dark-blue slacks. She squirmed beneath his attention, her nerves making her voice shake slightly.
“I—I’m sorry? I didn’t catch what you said,” Presley said.
“Thank you for the shots,” he repeated.
“Oh! That was really my friend Tally, but you’re welcome. Elio said you were just promoted. Congratulations.”
“Promotion, yeah. You could call it that.” He cocked his head. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you when he knocked you over earlier, did he?”
“No, thank you.” She gestured to the table. “The champagne was unnecessary but appreciated.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you and your friends enjoyed it. I’m Santino Agosti. Call me Sonny.”
He stuck his hand out.
“Presley. Presley Stafford, but you can call me Press. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure is all mine, Miss Stafford.”
He held her hand for a moment longer than he should have before letting it go. She caught sight of some tattoos peeking out from beneath his shirt and wondered who this dark-haired man was.
“I like the way you dance,” he said with a smile.
Press blushed. She didn’t think anyone had been paying attention to her dancing. People usually watched Tally.
“Uh, sorry about that. Got a little carried away.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed the show.”
Presley reddened. “I should get back. Nice to meet you, and congrats again.”
She went to move past him, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. Fear flashed through her, and she looked up at him, unsure if she should be afraid or not.
