Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
OUR CONVERSATIONS WERE TIMELESS, with us speaking about absolutely everything and nothing, if that's possible. At first, I tried asking questions about him and his work, but was only met with a candid response. He was a 29-year-old man (which wasn't bad since I just turned 26) who dabbled in different business ventures. There appeared to be more to it than that, but his cold-shouldered demeanour when asking the questions forced me to move on quickly, instead talking about me and other aspects of his life.
I hate to be the centre of conversation, however he insisted, asking questions about my job and personal life. In regard to my work as a general surgeon, the conversation was open; however, in slight retaliation, when he too asked about family, I gave blunt replies (something I don't think he was too pleased with). However, the majority of our speaking was on a stupid debate and other random topics.
I finally took notice of the now dialled-down muffles of the clubgoers. The club was now half empty, with the odd few groups of inebriated girls dancing and retiring to the bar like a cycle.
I grabbed and tapped my phone to check the time, which blinked back 10% and showed the time as 2:46 am.
Shit, I need to go home.
"Look, thank you so much for this, but I need to go home," I quickly say, giving him a small smile. The one drink turned into many in good company. Sigh. I hurriedly jump off the stool and begin to walk when I suddenly trip over my own feet, nearly face-planting to the floor.
"Thanks for, er, this, goodnight," I hastily mutter before springing up to stand upright, gripping the bar for support. I honestly don't understand why I drink more than I think I can handle, despite the fact that I'm a light weight.
"Are you okay to go home?" He cautioned, also beginning to stand up.
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thank you again," I say and start to move when I unexpectedly tumble over my own feet once more. Quickly, as if in instinct, Valentino wraps his strong arms around my waist, preventing me from humiliating myself and planting my face on the floor once again.
Even though I've already humiliated myself in front of him, seriously, what is wrong with me tonight? I internally shake my head. My 5'5 height was overshadowed by his muscular, tall frame, and as I drew closer to him, his aroma became even more alluring than before. His grip on my waist softened once I'd found balance, and I quickly looked away, blushing.
"Let me take you home, Mila; it's too dangerous. Plus I can handle my drink so you'll be fine" He offers, but it appears to be more of a demand, which was extremely hot. But he was right. Let someone I do not know too well off take me or risk my life? Taking a cab back home was not an option since it was really late. However, I felt an odd sense of security with Valentino, and with that, I made my decision.
"Fine, but we take my car," I concede; he smirks as I jangle my keys into his hands as we exit the club with his arm still wrapped around my waist and into the car.
