𝗔𝗰𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀

Seventeen.

Rebecca Caruso

"What are you doing?" I wondered, a sense of urgency in my voice, as Marco effortlessly vaulted over the bar table. The dimly lit room flickered with momentary illumination from his silhouette, as he landed on the other side with a smooth flourish, defying gravity itself.

"What does it look like? I'm fixing myself a drink," he reacted with a nonchalant grin playing on his lips.

Swiftly surveying the surroundings, I wondered if anyone would come back. "What about the bartenders?

"My father in all his glory shut down the bar for the night," Marco whispered, his voice barely audible, as if sharing a well-guarded secret.

Subtly surveying the lively crowd ahead, amidst the vibrant stage atmosphere, I observed Eve gracefully navigating through the bustling crowd, wholeheartedly committed to tending to everyone's needs. It was as if everything was business as usual.

My captivated gaze didn't go unnoticed, and Marco leaned in, whispering... "Eve was the one who came and got me," his words carrying a mix of gratitude and admiration.

"I guess I should thank her," I remarked, genuinely appreciating her quick thinking. Truth be told, I couldn't even fathom what would have happened if she hadn't stepped in. Note to self: Avoid drunken Angelo; a recipe for disaster. No, this whole thing was a recipe for disaster. I shouldn't have come.

"Drink this," Marco gracefully slid a glass across the polished bar, the crystal catching the ambient light, bringing it within my reach.

"I'm starting to think maybe it's best if I go," I suggested, contemplating the gravity of the situation.

Marco's eyes held a mixture of concern and understanding. "You sure?" he questioned, his voice soft but supportive. "You came all this way. At least have your drink."

He wasn't wrong.

I hesitated, my eyes flickering between Marco and the glass he'd offered. A momentary pause hung in the air, and our eyes locked.

"What is it?" I asked, my gaze fixed on the liquid.

"I'm not dumb enough to spike it, if that's what you're thinking," he confessed, his voice a blend of pride and vulnerability.

My eyebrow quirked up involuntarily at his assumption. The corners of my lips twitched, caught between amusement and skepticism. It was written all over my face-a silent response to his prideful admission. That was exactly what I was thinking.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Marco chuckled, skillfully diffusing the tension.

"Seriously, though, it's a little something to take the edge off. The house special," he explained, raising his glass in a mock toast before downing the contents in one swift motion.

I mimicked his movements, emulating his easy grace. The liquid glided down my throat, a seamless blend of smoothness and a lingering heat.

"Whoa, that's strong." I silently expressed, my surprise and appreciation evident in the subtle exhale that escaped my lips.

"French Alps Everclear, 190 proof," he declared, his tone holding a hint of both challenge and invitation, as he read the label aloud, his fingers tracing the raised letters. "It's the strongest shit we got, surprisingly the cheapest too."

"You know, the last guy who enticed me to drink something got an earful from the boss's son," I remarked with a playful smirk, recalling the amusing incident.

Marco chuckled, his laughter seamlessly blending with the lively ambiance of the club. "You're right," he replied, pouring another round into our glasses. "I guess Frank finally got what he deserved."

I glanced at Marco, my brows furrowing in confusion. "What exactly happened to that asshole?"

"Someone with your background, I'm surprised you don't already know," his tone carrying a hint of mystery.

I felt the weight of an unsettling truth sinking into my chest, the reminders of last night's actions overbearing my thoughts. Visions of the blood-stained sidewalk flashed before me, each detail etching itself into my conscience. The gravity of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. Was I really that assertive? He wasn't moving at all. Fuck, was he dead?

"Did I-?'"

"No-," Marco interrupted, his expression growing pensive for a moment. "Don't guilt-trip yourself, it wasn't you, okay? In fact, Frank wasn't your fault. I figured he was bound to snap at some point. Hell, I should be the one saying 'Thank you.' I didn't get a chance to say that last night, did I?"

"Yeah, well. Wrong place, wrong time, I suppose," I mused with a hint of uncertainty.

Marco swiftly hopped back over the bar table, landing beside me with a sense of urgency. He raised his glass, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No, right place, right time. I'm alive thanks to you..." he noted before downing his glass in one go.

Then, with a voice tinged with hesitation, he continued, "I can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but uhmm... Why did you come back? I mean, I'm certain you did your research; you knew who I am, who my dad is, and what we do. After last night, after the whole ordeal, why take the risk?"

"I could say the same," I added, feeling his gaze holding mine captive, a silent invitation to explore the unspoken depths between us. His eyes, a shade darker than the dimly lit room, bore into mine with a mixture of curiosity and challenge. "You chose to intervene between your father and me. You didn't have to, you knew who I was too."

"Yeah..." The tension heightened as he murmured, "Well, you know I could always inform my dad anytime, right? Robert Caruso's daughter, in our club. He'd have a field day."

I scoffed, "Sure, I could also have this place swarmed and shut down in minutes with a phone call. You'd both land in prison."

Our veiled threats hung in the air, casting an ominous shadow over the realism of our conversation. A subtle understanding lingered between us-we both possessed the capability to turn on the other, yet in this peculiar dance, we chose restraint.

I drew in a deep breath, collecting my thoughts and summoning the courage to articulate the whirlwind of emotions within me over the past twenty-four hours. "Look, all things aside, last night, what happened between us -as crazy as it seems -it was a good time. I was kind of hoping to relive it."

"Karma's going to come back and bite me in the ass by saying this," Marco confessed, a wry smile playing on his lips, "but, yeah, I agree."

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