Donovan didn’t reply. She focused back on Nico, swaying to the music. They both seemed indifferent to whether Violet was there at all. She tried to put those thoughts to the back of her mind, knowing that they didn’t do anyone any good. She was always too hard on everyone around her and knew that she couldn’t expect everyone to have the same morals as she had. After all, Donovan was having a good time with a guy she liked, and Violet was an adult. She could survive in a club. She knew where Donovan was and, if she was really that uncomfortable, she knew Donovan would leave with her, even though she would put up a stink about it.
She walked past the other VIP booths and made her way down the stairs. The security guard at the bottom of the stairs pointed to her wrist. Violet held it out and watched as the uniformed guard put a small band around it. The band was meant to let her back into the VIP area without any hassle.
The dance floor was packed, and the air in the club was swelteringly hot. She could smell the perfume of young women walking by, heading out towards the dance floor. Violet stayed along the side of the club, trying to avoid the massive groups of people. She knew all too well that it only took one person to spill a drink on her borrowed dress. The dress wasn’t exactly cheap, either. Better safe than sorry.
She pushed her way through the crowd and towards the bar, which was lit up underneath with bright blue lights. She spotted the DJ at the end of the room, passed the bar, up on a makeshift stage that appeared completely black, save for the screen in front of him. She hadn’t even realized there was a DJ.
The club was a sea of blurry faces. She nearly fell a few times as people bumped into her with glasses in their hands. She was careful passing through, hoping she wouldn’t cause anyone to spill. There was an exhaustion to finally reaching the bar. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirrors behind the bar, lined up with bottles of alcohol along the wall. Somehow, her makeup and hair were still perfect, as though she hadn’t been at a club for almost a half hour. Her blond hair swept over her shoulders in wavy curls that Donovan had painstakingly taken the time to perfect.
Violet leaned against the bar, hoping to catch someone’s attention. The bartenders were both women, whose attention kept getting diverted by people holding out euros in their hands and jumping against the bar to catch their eye. She felt trapped amidst the rest of the bodies, feeling their pressure behind her as she forced herself against the bar. There was always the chance that the bartenders would notice her, but it was slim. So many people had packed themselves around the area that it would take longer than she’d expected.
“You need a drink?”
Violet turned to her right and saw Pierre pressed up behind her. She could feel her stomach churning from the smirk on his face. She hadn’t even noticed he’d followed her across her the dance floor.
“It’s fine,” she replied loudly, stepping away from him until she was pressed up close to another girl. “I’m getting my own this time.”
She felt his hand on her side and clenched her teeth. She didn’t want to stay. All she wanted to do was get away from Pierre. She could barely stand it. An arm wrapped around her shoulder and Violet turned around swiftly, having had enough.
“Listen, I -”
“Sorry I’m late.”
She raised her eyes and caught her breath. The first thing she noticed were his ice-blue eyes peering down at her knowingly. His dark hair was swept back and his black dress shirt emphasized every part of his massive, muscular chest. She stared into his eyes, watching his pupils. The last thing she needed was someone else around her that was on drugs.
“I’m sorry, I don’t-”
She could feel his breath as he leaned in close to her ear.
“This guy’s bothering you, right?” he asked, his breath hot against her neck and sending chills down her spine. “Play along.”
She turned to Pierre, who was stepping back into the crowd slightly. He asked, “You know this guy?”
Violet felt her cheeks flushed as she nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been waiting for him to show up,” she said loudly. “Sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
The weight she’d felt on her shoulders dissipated as Pierre disappeared into the crowd with a frown on his lips. Watching him leave was enough for her. She turned to the man next to her and smiled. “Thank you for your help. That guy was not stopping.”
He flashed her a perfect smile back. “I figured as much. Who’re you here with?”
Violet pointed up to the VIP section and their booth. She could see Donovan’s silhouette, still dancing near the table. It was unlikely that Donovan had noticed that Pierre slipped away and followed her. She was too enraptured with Nico to pay attention to her surroundings.
“He’s with them too, though,” she told him, trying to speak loud enough over the music and voices around them. “Chances are he’ll just start again once you leave, but thanks for helping. I needed some time away from him.”
“He’s still up there?”
She nodded and tried to keep her eyes with his. It was difficult. She wanted to take every piece of him in. He looked as though he belonged on a real red carpet. She almost felt ashamed standing next to him.
“Why don’t you come with me, then?”
She stared at him quizzically, not entirely sure what to make of what he’d said. “Where?”
He lifted his hand and pointed to a booth at the end of the VIP section. It had its own sectioned off area, so much so that she could see glass walls along its sides separating it from the rest of the VIP section. There was no one in there, but there was no doubt that it would be more comfortable than returning to her table.
“Can I bring my friend?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Come with me. Don’t order your drink here.”
Within a moment he’d taken her hand in his and was leading her through the crowd. He towered over her, pushing his way through people as though they were flies. She couldn’t help but feel her lips forming into a smile. It was as though she was being whisked away by Prince Charming himself.
Chapter Two
Liam
He wasn’t sure if he was making the right choice. What he did know was that this was better than sitting in the VIP room alone. To his mind, there was nothing more pathetic than wasting an evening drinking at a club without at least making a new female friend. After all, Sydney hadn’t shown up. Might as well find a good replacement. And find a good one he did. Long legs, wavy blond hair, and a face that reminded him of a doll. Huge doe eyes were something he couldn’t resist. She was a little on the petite side for him but she was well-proportioned enough for him to overlook such a minor flaw.
So, it was just another one of those situations where he had to swoop in. He led her up the stairs to the VIP section. The security guard knew better than to check her wrist or ask him for his pass. He’d been there before and having his own private booth was a luxury few could afford. He expected decent enough treatment, especially if he intended on getting drunk - which he fully did.
She pulled away for a moment and pointed to her friends who were in the booth towards the other end of the section. Well, she wasn’t lying. That was new. Most of the young women he met at clubs always tried to convince him that they were part of the VIP crowd in some way, as though to validate themselves in his eyes. It never worked. He didn’t care if they were wearing a wristband or were an influencer trying to get to the better part of the party. Sometimes, it was just better having the company, regardless of their place in life.