Chapter 42

As I watched, the three of them clinked their glasses together, the sound echoing through the bar. They threw back the shots, their faces contorting in a dance of pain and pleasure.

The bouncers' faces turned red, sweat beading on their foreheads, but Lucien remained unfazed, his eyes locked on me. As he set the glass down and licked his lips, a smug look came into his eyes. "Your turn, Marlowe."

With a dramatic flourish, I grabbed a glass and filled it with the potent liquid. The room fell silent, the music fading into the background. I took a deep breath, feeling the heat from the peppers sting my nose, and downed the shot. The burn was intense, a fiery serpent coiling in my stomach.

Lucien's eyes never left mine, the challenge in them unmistakable. As he leaned in closer, his breath was hot against my ear. "I knew you had fire in you," he whispered. "Now, let's see if you can keep up."

The dance of power between us had started, and I had a feeling it would only get more intense as the hours ticked by. But as the music swelled and the lights grew brighter, I felt a thrill of excitement. I was ready for whatever the night had in store.

I hopped onto the counter, the whiskey in my veins giving me courage. The room grew blurry around the edges as I danced, the music pulsing through me like a heartbeat. Lucien watched, his gaze never leaving my body as it moved in time with the beat.

As the music grew faster, so did my movements. The heat from the peppers danced on my tongue, a fiery reminder of the dangerous game we were playing. I could feel the eyes of the bar's patrons on me, but all that mattered was the connection between Lucien and myself, the silent understanding that we were both in this together.

Without a word, he took my hand, walking me down the top of the bar. The patrons dipped their heads as our arms passed over them. Each of his steps were deliberate and predatory. When we reached the end of the bar, he reached up, his hands circling my waist, then lifting me off the bar, he placed me onto the floor.

As we began to walk forward, the crowd parted for him like he was royalty. The music started again, a sultry rhythm that seemed to be playing just for us. His grip was firm but gentle, his movements precise and commanding.

We danced, our bodies moving together as if we had rehearsed the routine a thousand times. The crowd watched, rapt, their eyes following every twirl and dip. His arms tightened around my waist, and our eyes locked, the intensity of the moment a palpable force between us.

As the song ended, he dipped me low, his lips brushing against my ear. "You're mine tonight," he murmured, his breath hot against my skin. I shivered, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through me.

He leaned in closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "When the bar closes, come to my hotel room. I've got something special planned for you." He pressed a hotel keycard into my hand, his fingers lingering against my palm before he disappeared back into the throng of people.
~~
The night spun on, a whirlwind of drinks and laughter, but my thoughts remained with him. The way his eyes had searched mine, the promise in his words—it was all too much. As well, my heart wasn't ready to move on. With a shake of my head, I tossed the room key in the trash.

As the hours passed, the bar grew wilder. The dance floor was a sea of bodies, and the drinks kept flowing, and my hand kept shaking as I poured the whiskey.

The final chords of the last song played out, and the lights began to dim. The crowd groaned, not ready for the night to end. But as the last patron stumbled out the door, the bouncers closed in.

In the sudden quiet, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Tannin, her expression one of concern. "You okay, girl?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I nodded, plastering on a smile. "Just tired," I lied.

She nodded, understanding in her eyes.

We closed up the bar, the silence after the chaos a stark contrast. Emily and Audria were already gone, leaving a trail of glitter and empty bottles behind them. As I wiped down the bar one last time, I felt a sense of relief—but also a tinge of disappointment.

I thought of the hotel key, the promise of something more. But as I locked the bar's doors and headed for my car, the weight of reality settled on my shoulders. I had a job to do, a life to live, and it didn't involve playing games with the Mafia.

The parking lot was empty, the night air thick with the scent of rain and I took a deep breath, feeling the moisture in the air wash over me. As I drove home, the rain began to fall, each droplet a gentle reminder that life goes on.

Pulling into the parking lot of my studio apartment, I sat in the car for a moment, the engine idling. The night was dark, the rain a soft patter on the windows. I turned off the engine and stepped out into the rain, letting it soak me through. The rain felt good on my overheated skin, washing away the stickiness of the evening's excitement.

Once inside the apartment, I toweled off and changed into a comfortable t-shirt and shorts. The quiet of the apartment was deafening after the pounding bass and the roar of the bar. Making my way to the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water, the condensation sliding down the side of the glass and onto my hand. Returning to the living room, I turned on the TV. The mundane reality shows were dull and boring but what I needed.

However, as I stared at the TV screen, I couldn't shake the feeling of Lucien. The way he had looked at me, the way his hand had felt on my skin. Deep down, my thoughts bothered me, as I felt I was betraying Torin with them.

After a few minutes, I picked up my phone, the screen lighting up with notifications. One caught my eye—a message from an unknown number. My breath caught a little as I read the message. "Meet me at the hotel. Room 405. It's not too late for that something special."

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the delete button.

The rain grew heavier, the drops hitting the windows like a drumline, urging me to make a decision. Out of the drumbeats, whispered Torin's voice.

With a deep breath, I pushed the ache aside and focused on the here and now. The bar was closed, the night was still young, and I had a quiet, peaceful evening ahead of me. I needed this calm after the storm of emotions and the electric charge of the bar.

The TV played on, but my eyes remained glued to the clock on the wall. Each tick was a silent reminder of the routine that awaited me—counting tips, balancing the cash drawer, and eventually falling into bed, exhausted but satisfied. Yet, Lucien's message lingered in the back of my mind like a seductive melody, a siren's call that grew louder with every passing minute.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing out on something... something that could be more than just a fleeting moment of excitement. But as I stared into the void of the television, the realization dawned on me. The real thrill wasn't in the hotel room with Lucien; it was in the choice I made. I had chosen my path, my life, and it was a good one.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by the buzz of my phone. I jumped, expecting another message from Lucien, but instead, it was Tannin. "You up?" she texted. "Wanna grab some late-night pancakes?"

I laughed, the tension in my body dissipating like the rain outside. Tannin had a knack for timing, always there when I needed her. I typed back, "Yes, please," feeling the weight lift from my shoulders. The thrill of the bar, the allure of the unknown, it was all just a part of the job.

We met at our favorite twenty-four-hour diner, the neon lights casting a warm glow over the worn vinyl booths. Tannin looked at me with a knowing smile as I slid into the seat across from her. She had a way of seeing right through me, and I knew she'd understand the tumult of emotions that had been swirling in my head.

Over a stack of fluffy pancakes and steaming coffee, I recounted the night's events. She’d been busy dealing with her own customers and had missed most of what had gone on. Her eyes grew wide at the mention of Lucien, and she leaned in closer when I talked about his invitation. But she didn't judge me for my curiosity or the temptation I had felt. Instead, she nodded solemnly and said, "You made the right choice, Marlowe."

And with that, the night was put to rest. The bar was a memory, Lucien a ghost in the shadows of my mind. As the rain continued to fall outside, we talked about everything and nothing, the sweetness of the maple syrup and the comfort of friendship blending into a perfect harmony.

The storm had passed, leaving in its wake a sense of clarity and purpose. As I drove home, the streets reflecting the neon lights, I knew that I didn't need the danger or the glamor that came with the Mafia lifestyle. I had my own fire, my own passion, and that was more than enough.