In this book within a book, plunge into the escapades of Satine Fontaine, who's on the run from her tumultuous past. The vibrant streets of New York beckon her, and fate conspires as she stumbles into Brooklyn's dingiest bar, encountering the enigma...
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STAR: DIANA
The morning came and Diana's eyes flickered open to the sound of a door sliding open. Confused by her surroundings, made worse by the remaining sleep left in her eyes, she froze and peered through the partition hinges.
A man walked out of the room opposite, so devastatingly handsome in his entirety. He aggressively raked through his black shaggy hair with his fingers, yawning as he made his way to the kitchen. Diana didn't make a sound; it's not like she was able to anyway – she was rendered speechless. She just admired him from afar, enjoying the way his sweatpants hung lowly around his prominent V. Truthfully, in the back of her mind she knew she shouldn't have looked, but the protruding bulge made her gulp twice, three times, four times heavy.
Did he know she was there?
He switched on his coffee machine, placing two mugs on the side.
One for him and one for me? Diana hoped, still not out of her dreamy state to remember her best friend.
He leaned against the kitchen counter, his thick neck straining as he moodily stared out of the window. It was a murky day in Brooklyn, with the sun trying ever so hard to show her face behind the blackened clouds. Diana wondered how long it would take for him to notice the divider and her peeking through, but she didn't have to worry. The insect crawling up her leg had her screaming and throwing herself across the room in a matter of seconds, cluing the stranger in on her company.
The man jumped, spilling his coffee over his bare chest whilst reaching for the rolling pin on his countertop.
"Oh my God!" Diana yelled as the spider crawled under the chest of drawers and out of sight.
She turned around, awkwardly scratching her head as he held his baton in the air, preparing to strike. She recognised him now as the scruffier version of the man her best friend liked to call 'my Mingyu.'
"Who the fuck?" His voice dulled quickly, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself. He hadn't noticed her, let alone remembered where she came from. He couldn't even recall the night before, but as soon as her face came into focus, so did everything else.
The petite brunette stood with her fingers locked together and her bright eyes darting off in every direction but his face. Unwillingly, his own flickered down to her fit. Her little shorts showed off her milky thighs - the part of her body that was delightfully larger than the rest - and its elastic waistband stretched around her hips, only just meeting the hem of her t-shirt that was at least two sizes too small. He didn't mean to pry, but the two little piercings poking through her top were difficult to ignore.
"What?" she questioned, looking down and brushing the creases out of the excess material around her narrow waist.
Change the subject. Mingyu told himself one too many times, still distracted by the view of her pert chest. Of course, he knew it was wrong, to check out another woman whilst his girl was asleep in the next room, but nothing would come of it. He was very much content.
