Temptations

Chapter 1: Black Belt Becky

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                The bouncer eyed our ID with vexation before shrugging his tattooed shoulders and stepping aside, his death glare never straying. He had a lean, bulky build and had shaved off his hair. Tattoos trailed up his arm, neck, and head. Nicki winked at him before strolling into the club. The pulsing music shook the ground, temporarily deafening to my eardrums.

                "Just our luck," Nicki shouted over the thundering roar of rock music, which rattled the floors.

            I had to watch her lips to make sure I understood everything she was saying.

       "It's not that full tonight," she said.

                      The club was more packed than a can of sardine. I wasn't the type of girl who spent her Saturday nights at a club, or partying of any sort. I had important things to do, and quite frankly, being groped in the dark by a complete stranger wasn't pleasant, either.

             "Lucky us," I replied.

                  Nicki had disappeared on the dance floor with a striking blond. I snorted, remembering the pickup line he had used. Call me old-fashioned or a prude, but it took a lot more than a pretty face and an accent to get in my pants.

                       I had ordered a strawberry vodka shot with two ice cubes, one slice of lime, and a tiny umbrella. I had lost track of the time, playing around with my fruity drink and pitying myself.

                "Amore, you're too beautiful to be sitting here alone," said a stranger. I nearly jumped out of my seat at his close proximity. His thick European accent seemed to boom over the music."You would be far happier in my company," he assured cockily.

            
            "Sure," I said sarcastically before turning to face the air headed man. "But I'd be even more happier–" Fuck. My mouth hung dangerously low, my eyes bugging out of their socket as I gaped at the man who stood before me in an all-black suit.

               "Happier if you what?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

      
              "If you left; I'd be happier if you left," I said, coughing nervously.

Damn, he even smelt good.

                                Fortunately, I wasn't drunk enough to invite him over to my apartment for a quickie.

                   The handsome man smirked and took a step closer, his metallic eyes void of any emotion. If he stepped any closer, we'd be one cough away from sharing a cold. His lips curled into a cynical smile. I didn't realize I was even holding my breath.

               "Liar," he challenged.

            
          "Believe whatever you want, pal, but I don't mind being alone," I replied.

             "Bugiardo," he whispered in my left ear. "You're as happy as a puttana after I fùcked her."

           "Lovely," I said passively.