chapter TWO
Pounding music vibrated through the bar stool on which I sat at The Chapel - an old church converted into an eighteen-an-up Goth club. The bar was separated from the dance floor by a wrought iron fence that could have belonged in a millionaire’s yard rather than a club. Two distinct groups of people filled the club.
The first was obviously out to live life to the fullest; some dancing alone, sweating, moving in their own world, others dancing with a member of the opposite - or same - sex, groping and grinding. How many had come with their dance partner, and how many were just there for the thrill of the night?
The other group lounged on red velvet chairs and couches, drinking from goblets, perfectly posed, determined to give off just the exact vibe and image of beauty and aloof dignity.
I was a loner and didn’t go out much, so doubted anyone there would know me.
The bartender handed me another cranberry juice with a splash of tonic. I didn’t drink. For one thing, alcohol and Zoloft don’t mix. My past was less than enviable, and weekly therapy sessions hadn’t done much good yet. Secondly, I’d done enough drinking and drugs in my teenage years - and enough stupid things because of that drinking - to make Satan weep. That is, if I believed in Satan. Which I didn’t.
“I didn’t order this,” I said, still sipping my first drink.
“Compliments of Vittorio. He said to get you another of whatever you were already drinking,” she said, looking toward the balcony which had acted as the choir loft in its previous life of - you guessed it - a church.
“Vittorio? Is that his real name?” I shouted to be heard over the music.
“Believe it or not, it is. Full blooded Italian. Vittorio Santini.”
A tall man with long black hair watched me from the balcony. “Is that him?”
The bartender nodded. After thanking her, I headed toward the balcony to introduce myself, and hopefully find something more about Courtney, Miriam, or Elizabeth. I wished for a more recent photo of Courtney, and any of the other two girls. “Goth” as a description would not help me find them. At the local Starbuck’s, maybe, but not here. I had to start somewhere though, and I had learned to look at facial structures rather than makeup over the years.
The Chapel’s website clearly stated the balcony was off limits to general club-goers. Some sort of VIP thing, I supposed, and the bouncer at the base of the stairs showed they were serious.
“Vittorio sent me a drink and I -”
He cut me off with a wave of his arm, indicating for me to go upstairs. Easier than I’d expected.
At the top of the stairs, confidence firmly in place, I saw the black hair was his natural color. It had highlights you just can’t get out of a bottle. Sitting on a red velvet couch, he was the center of attention. He faced away from me, so I surveyed the area.
The crowd in the balcony belonged to the second group of club-goers, looking like extras straight out of a vampire movie. They weren’t vampires, obviously - no such thing existed - but they’d sure pass. Some even had fake fangs.
The area was the size of a large living room. In back and to the right was a door with a sign that read “Restroom” and the image signifying it was for men and women. To the left was an unmarked door. A broom closet, maybe?
Vittorio turned and smiled at me. He was masculine in every way, yet his face managed to be beautiful. He was a god come to life; the most gorgeous, perfect creature to ever walk the face of the planet. Even that didn’t do his beauty justice. This god actually smiled at me!
I shook my head. This groupie behavior would do no good. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to him. His height sitting almost matched my 5’7” standing.
I extended my hand, thankful the music wasn’t as loud in the balcony so I didn’t have to shout. “I’m Elena. Thank you for the drink, but it really was unnecessary.”
He stood. “Elena. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. And such confidence.”
At least I succeeded there. My insides turned to rubber as he enfolded my tiny hand in the strong warmth of his. He motioned to the woman sitting next to him, who got up and walked away, glaring at me.
“Please, sit, Elena. Tell me about yourself. How does such a beauty find herself in our humble club? I would surely remember if you had been here before.” He sounded anything but humble.
My legs nearly collapsed, forcing me to accept the offer to sit. My steel boned corset prevented me from slumping into the plush couch. I had never experienced true magic, but he certainly seemed to have an otherworldly power contained in all that beauty. I tried to calm myself with deep breaths. I never reacted to men this way. I needed to get a grip on myself, fast. I had a job to do. “Well,” I cleared my throat because my voice came out barely audible. “I don’t go out very often. But I’m,” I didn’t want to tell him I was a PI, so quickly thought up an easy lie,” kind of between jobs at the moment and needed to get out of the house.”
“You have chosen a wonderful night to come out. It is my fortieth birthday.”
“Well, happy birthday, Vittorio. Where’s your wife?” Someone as gorgeous as he was either had to be married, or too much of a playboy to ever settle down.
“Hmm,” Vittorio murmured, seemingly amused. “I am not married. I have not found a woman to hold my interest enough for a lifelong commitment. But perhaps that has changed tonight.” He eyed me curiously, head slightly tilted to the side.
Oh my word, this god was interested in me. My heart raced. He stared intently into my eyes, and I thought I would faint.
A waitress dropping off a bottle of champagne momentarily distracted Vittorio. Again I reminded myself of my job, wishing I could escape to the bathroom to pull myself together.
Vittorio turned his attention back to me, glass of champagne in hand.
“Thank you, but I don’t drink.” I longed to accept the glass, to let the soothing affects of the alcohol overtake me. Stressful situations proved most challenging to my sobriety.
“And why is that, mia bellezza?”
“I’ve done plenty of drinking to last several lifetimes. I’m done with it.”
“That much drinking at your tender age?”
“Tender age? How young do you think I am?”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-five.”
“You do not look a day over twenty-one.”
“Well thanks, Any anyway, I’m much happier when I have full control of my senses.
“But losing control can be such a magical experience.” He lightly ran his fingertips from the back of my hand, up my arm, finishing the touch at my neck.
I shivered and my throat went dry.
He smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “What can I offer you to drink?”
I cleared my throat, but my voice was still hoarse as I replied. “Just water. Please.” I hadn’t even noticed my glass was empty.
“As you wish.” He nodded to the waitress, who was waiting for his command. That’s the only way I can describe it.
She scurried off, abandoning me to Vittorio.
Thankfully, Vittorio turned away from me for a few minutes to grace his other guests with his entrancing conversation skills. It was enough to let me regain some composure yet again. I was exhausted from the emotions racing through my body. What was wrong with me?
I studied the people around me, hoping one might be Courtney, but I saw no one with her facial structure. I sensed this was a very private crowd, and that flashing her picture around would gain me nothing but silence.
All too soon, the waitress returned with my water, and Vittorio again directed his gaze to me.
I couldn’t handle any more of my raging hormones, and fished my phone out of my purse to check the time. It was after midnight. “I really should get going.”
“May I walk you to your car?”
Oh boy. I really didn’t trust myself with him alone. Somehow, I sensed he would not take advantage of me; it was myself I didn’t trust. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine.” I stood, as did Vittorio. He was more than half a foot taller than me in my high heeled boots, putting him at about 6’6”.
“I hope I shall see you again soon, Elena.” He reached a hand toward my face, and brushed it down my arm, gently clasping my hand in his. He kissed the back of my hand, turning my body to rubber again.
“I expect you will,” I said breathlessly, then fled down the stairs.