* * *

A little while later, I’d been led out of the club through a concealed exit that probably only the rich and famous were given the privilege of using. I was ushered into an expensive-looking Rolls Royce. Vincenzo sat in the backseat with me while a driver pulled away from the curb.

Vincenzo dialed a number and pressed his phone to his ear.

“Have a chilled bottle of 2013 Gout de Diamants waiting on the bar, along with a fresh bottle of Matheson 1942. Thanks,” he murmured. I heard someone answer on the other line, but I couldn’t quite make out what they said. It didn’t matter though because he curled his arm around me and pulled me to him, distracting me from the promise of more delicious champagne whenever we reached wherever we were going.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, hoping that he might be taking me to his place or a quieter bar or even a nice hotel.

“To my penthouse. I want to show you what Rome looks like from way up high. It’s quite a sight at night,” he answered, grinning. He’d somehow garnered another drink and I hadn’t seen how. It didn’t really matter though. I imagined when you had money like he had, the rules didn’t really apply to him.

The Rolls Royce sped down the dark streets, weaving in and out of traffic as if it owned the road. Maybe Vincenzo had enough money that he did.

I looked out the window, watching as the night lights drifted by and as people walked down the streets to their favorite local bars or restaurants, dressed to the nines and ready for a night of fun. I wondered what my girlfriends were doing and what they’d say if they knew where I was and who I was with.

I chewed my lip.

Maybe I should be playing harder to get.

His fingers traced the line of my arm, drifting up to caress my neck. He took my chin and pulled me into another kiss. I could taste the whiskey on his breath and the residual burn was even more arousing than I anticipated.

His fingers slipped up my leg and I carefully took them into my own, not wanting to start anything here in the car. He pulled back and looked at me, trying to gauge where my mind was. I decided to let him in, at least a little bit.

“Let me get comfortable first,” I whispered, tightening my hand around his. He nodded softly, understanding glimmering across his features.

“You need another drink,” he replied curtly, and he slipped his own into my fingers, before flipping open a compartment that I hadn’t noticed before to reveal a glass and another bottle of crystal-encased whiskey. He poured himself another and popped a perfectly circular sphere of ice into it. He swirled the glass and I stared at it, trying to remember how many drinks he’d had already tonight.

Was it more than he should have had? I turned back to him, trying to tell if his eyes were glassy or not. They didn’t appear to be, so I carefully took a sip of his.

“What do you do, Vincenzo?” I asked.

“I run a law firm,” he answered.

“What kind of law?”

“Criminal defense. Lawsuits. We’re a multifaceted firm that has a wide variety of talents specializing in a range of subject matter,” he replied. “What about you, Isabella? Tell me more about you.”

“I’m a senior business student in the master’s program at the Sapienza University of Rome. It’s my last semester here before I head back home to America,” I said.

“Is it now? How have you liked Rome so far?”

“I’ve enjoyed my time here very much. I almost don’t want to leave,” I mused.

“Perhaps you don’t have to,” he smirked. For a moment, he stared at me almost like he had something else to say, but then he turned away and I was left wondering what he meant. He didn’t expand any farther and I was just about to ask him when the car came to a stop in front of a high-rise in the business district of the city. Doors were opened and the two of us were ushered into a rather extravagantly decorated front foyer.

It took money to live here and a lot of it. I was sure of it.

Vincenzo grabbed my hand and led me into an elevator, where he simply pressed the top button. It moved fast and before I knew it, the doors were sliding open to reveal a very elegantly decorated interior. He had the penthouse suite and it was just as ritzy as I had imagined. Everything seemed to be lined with gold. The furniture was so extravagant that I was afraid of sitting down on any of it in case it would ruin it somehow. There was a massive white piano in one corner of the room and the edges were lined with what looked like gold filigree. Once I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows though, I ignored everything that was inside in favor of what I saw out there.

I’d never seen the city from this high up before and it was a sight to behold. Lights of every different color twinkled beautifully beneath us. I could just make out the Coliseum, brilliantly lit up with an orange glow and I marveled at the different styles of building lit up in the dead of night. I admired it for a while before I took another sip of the whiskey that Vincenzo had slipped into my hand in the car. I didn’t drink whiskey often, but it was so very smooth and burned just a little as it edged down my throat.

I heard the sound of glasses clink against the counter and turned to see Vincenzo pouring me another glass of champagne and more whiskey for himself.

“Isn’t Rome beautiful at night like this?” he said. I noticed that his words slurred just the slightest bit at the end of his sentence, and I turned my head to get a good look at him. He still seemed put together, but the way he was drinking that whiskey like water was starting to worry me.

He leaned over the counter and looked me up and down like I was a piece of meat.

“It would look even better with you naked up against it,” he murmured, and I stared at him for a long moment.


Tags: Sara Fields Erotic