𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 |𝟏𝟖+ (#𝟏)

𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽 |

18
AMBER JACKSON
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I don't think I've ever been in a scenario where I was surrounded by so many abundantly wealthy individuals in my life. Yes, the five thousand dollar monthly charge at the club should have said something, but after seeing them nude and on display at the club, their affluence was the last thing on my mind.

Many of them were completely dressed tonight, with no thoughts of the club in their peripheral vision, and I frequently wondered whether my presence was some unpleasant recollection. That wasn't the case, as I quickly discovered. A handful of the guests here talked to me about my future goals as if it were a networking event hosted by my university. I even danced with them and took photographs with them courtesy of the photographer walking around snapping pictures. To say the least, it wasn't as boring and dull as I thought it would be.

Seeing many of them outside of the club and hearing the few humble origins (since many of them were generationally wealthy) made me grin. They appeared to me to be more than the person I'd observed them to be throughout the months I'd acquainted them. A few folks were unfamiliar to me and were introduced to me by Alessandro or the men with whom I would converse. Most of the chats demonstrated to me that there was enough money on the planet; the problem was that without resources, the disadvantaged couldn't access it unless they possessed some form of privilege.

As I was pulled to the right side of the room, Alessandro was dragged to the left, and despite the fact that we scarcely saw each other, he knew where I was at all times, his eyes always scorching into my back. We had met somewhere in the middle, and he had promised to get me a drink, but was suddenly lured into a side conversation. I observe him holding both glasses in his hands, laughing at the tipsy men in the circle, who were laughing at their own jokes.

I then realized I'd danced with a few others people but not with the man I arrived here with.

"You're the only other young black woman near to my person, so you and I will spend the night together," a woman in a ruby red dress adorned with light gold embellishments tells me, slipping her hands through mine and bringing me to her side. Normally, I'd be irritated that some random person simply interjected themselves into my personal space and touched me, but she not only got a pass for being very attractive and polite - she smelt so fucking delicious. Her exposed flesh, which I could feel with my fingertips, felt like silk.

Clearing my throat, I turn to look at her attentively, recognizing she's the woman Alessandro's mother, father, and even himself were gushing over when I was lured into a conversation with several women about my dress a few minutes before. "Thank God. It was becoming a little weird waiting for my date to bring me a drink." I inform her with a smile, my eyes darting across the room, catching sight of Alessandro's irritated expression as he was dragged into a conversation he didn't want to have. "By the way, I love the dress." I continue to admire her dress's details.

Alessandro and I have hardly spent enough time together since walking into this building. He was being dragged in every direction, to to his chagrin, and the only discussion he wasn't bored with was the one with his parents and the woman next me and her date. "I love yours as well. I had no choice but to wear this color.....family crest and all." I completely understood what she was saying to me. I was also wearing a black dress for the same reason, but I wouldn't say I was coerced to wear it tonight.

"Let me guess. Alessandro Vitale." She says as she smiles at the group walking by us towards their table. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Long-lost family friend. Exactly twenty-three years. I'm actually here with the Russian watchdog Luka Ivanov," she continued, referring to the large body standing next to Alessandro as they spoke to a circle of men. "One of Alessandro's best friends." Both Alessandro and Lukas' eyes were fixed on us rather than their discussion, as though they were totally aware of the nature of our conversation. "He has a Russian best friend? I thought they were meant to hate each other since they were competitors." I ask her with skepticism. She laughs.