ANTONIO
The first place I go is to the bar on the bottom level of the hotel. I’m in a burning rage because how the fuck did I let this happen? Stella Lombardi is officially under my skin. Actually, far deeper than that, and now she’s stuck. Stuck in my head, stuck in my chest (I refuse to say heart), stuck in the parts of me that I didn’t know could long for someone so intensely.
I need to forget this feeling of wanting us to be more. If it didn’t dissipate after fucking her, it’s gonna take a whole lot of shots and a string of hot women to sear it out of my mind. I exit the elevator and walk straight down the steps to the bar by the little indoor river flowing through the terrarium arrangement.
“What can I do for you?” The warm wood and soft lighting remind me too much of Stella. Why? I don’t fucking know. But you can see how badly I need to forget her if something as lowly as a hotel bar brings her to the forefront of my thoughts.
I sit down in front of the bartender. She’s short, black thick long hair, large thick eyebrows, a small narrow nose, and mocking eyes that makes me think she gets numerous tips well over the cost of a few drinks.
“Five shots of your strongest.” I tap the sticky glassy wood with my finger.
“Alright.” Her lips part to reveal an impressed smile.
“Where are you from?” She begins pouring shots from what looks like some sort of absinthe.
“Does it matter?” I raise my brows, and she snorts a laugh.
“I guess not. We don’t have to talk, babe.’’ Her calling me babe reminds me of the one time I attempted to call Stella it. She didn’t like it. Doesn’t want me. It’s a loop in my head that shows on my face as the busty bartender leans over to hand me each shot. My chest hurts because even her body makes me want Stella’s all over again.
“Thanks.” I take the first shot, and she presses her lips together, watching me for a moment. Why I’m not flirting back, why I came here to fuck Stella out of my mind, I don’t know. It might have to do with the fact that I can’t even look at this woman without wanting to run right back to Stella like a fucking idiot.
“You want to start a tab?” is the last thing I remember her saying with seductive lips before I blackout. When I wake, it's bright everywhere. Takes me a second to blink the sleep from my eyes to see that I’m still at the bar. The skylight ceiling in the hotel is soaking the entire space with so much light I almost thought I was outside. The same bartender throws on an apron and begins to mop the floors.
“Fuck.” I sit up, my head pounding.
“Good morning.” She grins.
“Did we?-“
“No. I went home. Let you sleep here. Looked like you needed it after those shots.” I’m relieved. Why the fuck am I relieved? Stella is still in my head, and now I feel the guilt of leaving her after what we did. I stand up and run to the elevator before I comprehend why.
I need to apologize. Tell her that I wasn’t kidding. That I don’t know what the fuck this really means for either of us, but I think I really want her. I don’t think she feels the same because if she did, she would have followed me to the bar. Maybe. It’s what I would have done if she ran. But alas, I’m the one always running away.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Someone like Stella wanting someone like me is such a crazy notion that I just about stop myself when I reach the suite. Hover my hand over the doorknob because I can’t stand the thought of wanting her so badly only to be rejected. Or worse, not being who she needs me to be and failing before we’re even out of the gate.
Despite my better judgment, I burst through the door.
“Stella?” I call out her name. No answer. I head to the bedroom, and my heart stops. On the neatly made bed is a note. I approach it with caution, pick it up slowly, unfold it carefully, then read.
Antonio,
I think we only hurt each other. Even when we try, we can’t control ourselves. Somehow I’m most myself when I’m with you… and I think that’s the problem. We are better off being apart because even fake dating has become too real. I can’t do it anymore. It hurts too much. I’m going home. You’re officially free from me. Thank you for playing along with this, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one to help you get what you want from life.
- Stella
I immediately crumple the paper in a rage. I can’t believe she had the audacity to leave. Guess I spoke too soon. She’s run away, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Fuck.
I check the time. Seven a.m. I’ve got to get ready for this shit show of a meeting with the Russians. Jack is supposed to meet me at my suite at eight a.m. I quickly shower off, trying not to remember Stella in here or us in the tub behind me.
I make the choice to wear my cotton cream dress suit. Gucci, pleated, wine-colored tie, and matching leather AMIRI shoes. It’s just shy of eight when I’m done, so I head to the front door and wait outside with two of my security.
We wait well past eight a.m. I’ve called Jack about a dozen times, and if we wait any longer, we’ll be late. The Russians don’t appreciate being late. We’re meant to meet at a warehouse up the coast at nine a.m. It’s currently eight forty-five.
“Boys. Let’s go.” I nod to them, checking to see who else is missing as we enter the elevator. Barker is by my side, John, and when we get to the bottom level, Match and Oden are waiting.
“Alk head home?” I ask no one in particular.
“Yeah. Went with Stella last night.” Barker gruffly intones. We were relying on her security’s backup as much as we were our own, so it’s definitely inconvenient to have them MIA. We cross through the lobby and head to the cars parked out front. I’m assuming the second car behind the one I get into is already filled with our boys.