by M. E. Gordon
“Mr. Salvatore, it’s great to finally meet you, please come with me and I’ll introduce you to my brother Teddy.”
Before I knew it, the ankle rubbing Greek God had a name and was taken away right before my eyes, not even a second glance back.
After gaining my composure, I watched as Charles ushered him away. He completely ignored me, in typical Charles fashion, not even bothering to introduce me. Well, now that I felt even more insignificant than usual, I thought it was time to go. I looked down at my phone. New record, forty-five minutes.
I looked back and saw Teddy shaking hands. My in-tune brother caught my gaze and mouthed “Are you okay?”
I nodded back, as a wave of guilt hit me. I should stay. Teddy was here and I didn’t get to see him as often as I’d like to. So once again, against my usual better judgment, I pointed over to the restrooms. Turning on my six-inch heels, I made my way across the dance floor, all the while thinking about my chance encounter with a Greek God, or Mr. Salvatore as my brother had called him. Why did that name sound so familiar?
I reached the restrooms and, as always, there was a line. While waiting, I overheard two Bratz-looking dolls talking.
“Oh, my God did you see him, Courtney? Pictures do not do him justice!” one said.
“I know. I still can’t believe we are in the same building as Spencer Salvatore, well worth the wait in line.”
At the sound of his name, I found myself butting into their not so private, drunken conversation.
They clearly knew who he was and my curiosity was getting the better of me. I couldn’t help myself but to ask, “Umm, excuse me, who is Spencer Salvatore?”
The two girls turned toward me and looked at me as if I’d just asked the dumbest question in the world.
“Uh, he’s only one of the most attractive men in the universe. Not to mention one of the most eligible bachelors,” the blonde doll said as she swooned over in the direction of the VIP area.
“He owns, like, every popular nightclub and bar on the east and west coast,” the other added.
I suddenly felt stupid. I knew my brothers were meeting someone, in hopes of having them help open their own nightclub. I should have put two and two together.
“And most importantly, he’s, like, top fifteen on the Forbes list. The man could buy an island if he wanted to,” the first one said.
Well, I sure got all the information I needed from Thing One and Thing Two. Kind of weird that someone as exquisite as Spencer Salvatore was touching my feet. My cheeks flushed as my mind wandered back to the soft caress of his fingers on my ankle. A shiver ran through me and I shook my head to get the memory out, because that was all it was ever going to be, a memory.
Things like that didn’t happen to girls like me. We didn’t get swooped off our feet and carried away by the rich, attractive bachelor. Nope, we were the best friend of the girl who got swooped off her feet by the man who would never see us as sexy or alluring. Unfortunately, I knew this first hand.
On my way back to the VIP section, I did a quick Salvatore scan but he was nowhere to be found. He probably got what he came for and left. The dance floor was packed as I shimmied between people dancing. I got halfway when I ran into Gia and Charles dancing.
“Beth! There you are. Stay, dance with us!” Gia shouted over the loud music, while Charles held her around her waist. Disgusting.
“Let me go do a couple of shots and I will get the courage to come bust a move with you guys,” I said before I walked away.
I saw some shots sitting on one of the tables and downed them one after another. I thought I stopped at four, but it very well could have been more. Liquid courage! I was ready to join them now. Feeling buzzed, I started swaying my hips to the music. These curves were good for something and, luckily, I had some rhythm to go with them. Gia and I took a few more shots and continued dancing, and singing at the top of our lungs. She leaned over, telling me that she was going to sit down. I nodded back, letting her know I heard her. Charles said something in my ear, but all I heard was, “Blah...Blah ...Blah.”
I lost myself in the music and felt free. Maybe I should come out more often. I felt so liberated. Alcohol could do that to a girl. My eyes got heavy and my movements became more drunkenly. I lost my balance, but two hands saved me as they gently landed on my hips and pulled me toward the mystery person they were attached to.
I turned around, wishfully thinking that it was that Salvatore God, but it wasn’t. I looked at the man in front of me, sandy hair, good looks, and a nice thick body. It was the freaking photographer from outside and--damn, he smelled good, some kind of aftershave I guessed. And he was charming. But in that moment, right then, I didn’t care who the hell he was.
I felt amazing as we danced together. I saw now why Gia came out all the time. If guys did this every time, I might become a little more familiar with the night scene. His hands were tight around me and his warm breath tickled my neck. I pushed back against him, wrapping my arm around his muscular shoulders. When I did, he sprawled his hand across my stomach. Oh crap! I instantly sucked my stomach in, but I wasn’t sure how successful I was, since I was pretty much three sheets to the wind. I needed to stop this before he felt something not so attractive.
“Hey, do you want to come over and sit at the VIP with me?” I managed to say, turning to face him, the words slightly slurred. I expected him to say “No,” and “Thanks for the feel up.”
“Sure, lead the way, sexy.”
He was mere centimeters from my lips. Breathe, Beth! What the hell was going on around here tonight? Some rich, beautiful bachelor felt my legs up and now this gorgeous guy called me sexy. I quickly squeezed my arm as we make our way through the crowd.
“Ouch!” I said loudly.
“Huh? Did you say something?” he asked as his breath warmed my neck again.
Nope, you are not dreaming.
The photographer helped me up the few steps. My dress’s color popped on the stark, white couches as we sat down.
“So,” I said looking at him.
Gorgeous, his eyes were a soft brown, his features...stunning. I couldn’t believe he was a photographer. He could easily be a male model.
“So,” he said back. “My name’s Simon.”
I had met men like him before, the ones that threw all the right lines and talked their way in and out of everything. I didn’t know them personally, but I’d seen plenty of them try to pick Gia up.
He held out his hand and I put mine in his, still skeptical, but intrigued to see what he would do next. “Elizabeth.”
“I know,” he said. “Elizabeth Monroe. It’s a pleasure to be in your beautiful presence.”
Is this guy for real? Come on, really? I’m drunk, but this is a bit much to believe. I smiled back and lowered my head shaking it in disbelief. “You don’t have to do that, act like you’re interested in me just to get to the VIP section.” I made sure he could hear the annoyance in my words.
With a raised brow and soft face, he looked me in the eyes, grabbing my hands that were resting in my lap. “Who said I wasn’t interested?”
Wow, his hands are soft. Damn it! I’m not being that girl, not tonight.
“Come on, I know how this works. I see it all the time,” I said coolly, sliding my hands out from his. I had to look toward the crowd as I spoke. Stay strong. “Be nice to the chubby girl and get in. I know how you paparazzi are.”
“You really have no idea how beautiful you look tonight, do you? You’re not chubby. Whoever told you that is just jealous, and I’m not with the paparazzi,” he finished.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Being flattered by men was something that just didn’t happen to me. Insecurely, I lowered my head and rubbed my aching limbs. I couldn’t look at him right now.
Catching a shadow, I looked up and saw Charles standing in front of me, all big-brother-to-the-rescue.
“Beth, can I have a word?” Charles’s voice sounded annoyed.
I glanced over
at picture boy, who seemed to be waiting patiently, and indicated I would be right back, as I got up and walked away with Charles.
“What?” I spat at his face, annoyance dripping off me.
“Are you all right? Is this guy bothering you? Just give me the word and I’ll make him go away. You know I will.”
Still feeling tipsy, I almost lost my balance twice. I placed a hand on my brother’s strong shoulder. “I’m F--F--Fine.” I said, managing to stumble the words out.
“Really? I’m not so sure about that.”
“Listen, Charles--”As I began to reprimand my brother, something stopped me and stilled every fiber in my body.
Across the way, that Salvatore God was staring over at us. I blinked my eyes to see if I was imagining it. Nope, he was still there. I stared back at him. There was no expression on his face.
He was just standing there like a beautiful sculpture. Slowly he turned, leaving from sight, but his image was burned into my mind.
“Elizabeth,” Charles said, shaking me out of my God-knew-how-long trance.
“Huh?” I said, looking back at his worried face.
“Damn, Salvatore was right. You are done. I think it’s time to go. You don’t need hounds like this trying to take advantage of you.” He nodded over in picture boy’s direction.
“Wait--Salvatore was talking about me?” I asked.
“Yeah, we were finishing up when he saw you and douche bag over here. He thought it might be a good idea to come get you before something happened that you might regret in the morning.”
Mr. Salvatore was concerned about little ole me? I was shocked. “Did he say anything else?” I asked, a little too hopeful.
“Nope, not really.” Charles had a vicious, what-do-you-expect look on his face. The kind that I got all the time. It was even harder to have your own flesh and blood belittle you.
“Well, things are dying down and I’m not trying to close the place, so let’s go, baby girl,” Charles demanded.
“Whatever, Charles, I’m going to stay a little longer. Do you know where Gia’s at?” I asked, scanning the crowd for her.
“No, you’re not staying here by yourself and Gia is just as trashed as you. She’s with Teddy getting the car. I was sent to get you,” he said, crossing his arms and trying to sound intimidating.
“What if I don’t want to go with you? I’m having a good time for once. Geez, you people are ridiculous. You bitch when I don’t come out and, when I do, you make me leave when I’m actually having a good time.” I folded my arms across my chest and pouted at the floor like a two-year-old.
While in my two-year-old pout, I saw two, well-polished shoes standing in front of me. I followed up the legs to the slender, fit waist and broad shoulders. This isn’t happening. I blinked a few times, but Spencer Salvatore was standing in front of me and next to what I thought was my good-looking brother. Spencer was by far the most attractive man in the universe, no joke. He kind of made my brother look ordinary. I liked the thought of Charles being average. It made me chuckle inside.
“Spencer, I thought you left.” Charles voice was high and he seemed taken off guard.
“I thought I forgot something. I saw you talking to your sister and figured I’d properly introduce myself.” He smiled at me, his blue eyes absolutely breathtaking. Taking my hand in his, he brought it to his perfect lips and gently skimmed the top of my knuckles. The feeling of his lips on my skin went through my body like an electric shock, waking my insides with a spark of fire. “Miss Monroe, it’s nice to meet you, my name is Spencer Salvatore.”
A sad little, “Hello,” was all I could muster out of my voice box. Figures.
“Well, it was a pleasure. I got what I came back for, and I’ll see you two around.” Just like that, he turned and walked away again.
“Okay, Beth, for real, let’s get lost. It’s two in the morning. I’m beat and your little friend got scared and ran away,” he said, pointing to where picture boy had been sitting.
“Fine, my buzz is gone, anyway. Let me go grab my shawl and we can leave.” As I reached down to the couch, I noticed a folded piece of paper where I was sitting. I grabbed the paper, hidden under my shawl, and walked out of the club with my brother. Not how I pictured myself leaving twenty minutes ago, but at least someone possibly left me a note.
Chapter 3
Light was shining through my window, which I had forgotten to close the night before as well as change my clothes. My head was pounding as I crawled out of bed. I stripped out of my new favorite dress and jumped in the shower.
The warm water ran over my face, washing away all the beautiful make-up and hair products until I was plain old Beth again. I stepped out of the shower and began drying myself off. Bending down, I dried my ankles and, in that simple action, everything from last night came rushing back--Spencer’s gentle fingers on my leg and his soft lips on my hand. I stood abruptly and wrapped the towel around my body. Sitting on my bed, I tried to recall every little detail about him.
Falling back in a flush of bizarre giddiness--because I don’t do giddy--my hand slid over a piece of paper. The note! I had totally forgotten that I even had it in my hand when I passed out last night. I held the note in my hands¸ opening it to see beautifully scripted handwriting.
You intrigue me, Miss Monroe. ~ S
Are you kidding me? Really? He couldn’t just write his full name? My mind started racing. It could be from Spencer. He did say he left something behind. Maybe he placed the note on the couch. Or it could have been Simon. I thought that was his name.
Who am I kidding? I’ll probably never find out. No name, no number, another mean joke at my expense.
There was a loud knock at the door, which nearly made me fall off the bed.
“Gia, you got that?” I waited for a response “Gia, I just got out of the shower,” I called to her again, but all I heard from her room was a low grumble of what I thought was drunken English, saying no. All right, I guess I’ll just get it myself.
I wrapped the towel even tighter around my voluptuous curves and went for the door. Looking through the peep hole, I saw a man standing with a vase full of red roses. I looked down at the towel around me and contemplated opening the door. Maybe he had the wrong condo number. When he didn’t turn to leave and knocked again, I figured I’d better answer.
I opened the door just a crack.
“Are you Miss Monroe?” the delivery guy asked.
“Yes?” I answered, frowning.
“I have a delivery for you,” he said sarcastically, holding the flowers up toward the door.
“Huh?” Now I know why everyone hates my sarcasm.
“Of course.” He handed the big arraignment of flowers to me then turned, tipped his invisible hat, and exited down the hall.
I closed the door, rested on it, and took a deep breath. Gia came out of her room and perked up when she caught sight of them. “Oh, flowers for me? I wonder who they’re from?” she said, skipping over.
“Actually, they were sent to me.”
Her excitement dropped off and a depressed “Oh,” left her mouth before she could stop it. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, making a quick recovery. “Well, open the card. I want to see who the hell sent you flowers,” she demanded.
I pulled out the card and read.
Saw these beautiful flowers this morning
and thought of you ~ S
Nope, this can’t be happening, there must be some mix up.
“Well, what does it say?” she asked, greedily taping her fingers together.
“Here,” I said, handing it to her.
She read it and looked up with wide eyes. “Is it from that guy you were dancing with all night?”
Yeah, him or the ankle-touching Greek God. I made sure to keep that securely locked in my head, though.
***
The next Saturday morning, I was drinking my tea and scanning the Internet for any interesting news. I clicked on the infamous
gossip page, Fame, because they always had the latest scoop. I wasn’t surprised to see a picture of my brothers, smiling and posing with Spencer Salvatore, the night outside of Mood.
Oh God, he even looks good on the gossip page. Unfortunately, my brothers looked just as handsome standing next to him. Disgusted by their good looks, I quickly clicked the over button to go to the next page.
Holy fuck! Was that me or just someone that kind of resembled a better looking me? Nope, that was, without a doubt, me, and that was clearly Spencer Salvatore on his knees, caressing my ankle.
The next picture was him kissing my hand. Some crazy paparazzi had sneaked a camera in and snapped the pictures. Some pretty good ones at that.
I stared, wide eyed. The memory made my stomach flutter as I thought back to the way his voice danced around my ears and how his soft lips felt on the back of my hand. Below one of the pictures, the caption read:
Spencer Salvatore, seen with beautiful vixen in sexy Ann Robin cocktail dress and vintage heels. Watch out, ladies, Mr. Salvatore might be off the market soon. He looks absolutely smitten, wouldn’t you agree?
I had to read and re-read the caption a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t just willing the words on the page. Suddenly, it hit me, reality. Everyone who followed Fame, or even Spencer, would be looking at me as the vixen trying to weasel my way into his life. I could already see future posts in my head. Who does this fat girl think she is? She can’t steal the modern day sex symbol. Ouch. I wasn’t sure I could handle all that. Hopefully, no one would recognize me. I would be keeping my fingers, toes, arms, and legs crossed.
“What are you looking at, all face in the screen?” Gia asked, entering the kitchen.
I shot my head up from the computer and slammed it shut. “Nothing! Just the news,” I said, as casually as possible.