NightFall (NightFall: Book One)

by Anastacia Kelley

  “It’s perfect,” Simone said as she looked around. Deep, rich mahogany wood made up the bar. The stools were black iron with deeply hued maroon seating, looking medieval in a way. There were a few tables scattered close by to give way to a breathtaking dance floor. It looked to be made of white marble. Here and there were black daises raised just about a foot and a half high for dancers to showcase their moves.

  Men and women were dancing around, some by themselves. It looked like a sea of leather and mini skirts and ostentatious costumes. Their attire fit this club.

  Simone re-focused her attention to the bar. She scanned the bar drink menu. She needed to have all her wits about her tonight. That’s why she opted for the non-alcoholic drinks.

  “What’ll it be, ladies?” a handsome, thick-muscled bartender asked while eyeing them appreciatively. His accent hinted of a British background.

  Indea smiled openly at him. “Cosmopolitan.”

  Simone started with one of her favorite drinks. “Virgin strawberry margarita.” She leaned over to Indea. “I’m driving. Besides, I need to keep focused.” She gave Indea a knowing look.

  “Ahh.” Indea nodded and waited for her drink.

  Simone’s gaze went to the wall over the bar. There were two museum-worthy swords crossed at the middle of the blades attached to the wall. The handles sparkled like diamonds. Green and red gems gleamed sporadically throughout the heavy looking handles. The whole piece glinted dangerously. They couldn’t be real. They didn’t look to be secured to anything. They could easily be stolen. Not only did they look dangerous, they looked expensive.

  There were gold sconces peppering the rest of the wall. In them, sat red or black candles, the wicks charred but not in use.

  How apropos, Simone thought, awestruck at the designs. This bar had a definite ethereal aura to it. It was mysterious and dark toned, also. Now if she could find a man who fit that same description: dangerous, mysterious and dark.

  “Your drinks, ladies.” The bartender set the glasses on napkins as Indea gave him the money for the bill and a nice tip.

  He took the money and winked. Indea smiled warmly before lifting her glass and sipping her drink.

  Putty, Simone thought, lifting her own glass to take a healthy swallow. Mmm. Cold and delicious.

  Simone couldn’t help but smile. The bartender already seemed to be smitten with Indea. Maybe he was the one for her. But he was a bit too muscle-y for Simone’s tastes. He was probably a nice guy though.

  No more than five minutes later, Simone and Indea were on the dance floor. It was like they had no choice. One of their favorite songs started playing. It was a remix of Enigma’s ‘Gravity of Love’. Enigma, hands down, was their favorite. The trance mix of this song surpasses all others in their opinion. The beat would make even the most unenthusiastic dancer get up and move with excitement. It had a way of penetrating your very soul.

  The lights kept rhythm with the beat of the song. The strobes were pulsing in cadence to the sensual surge of harmony.

  At first, Simone and Indea danced with each other. Not long after, two rather nice looking guys began dancing with them. Indea swirled her hips to the pulsing beat, arms up and pumping. Simone’s wavy red locks flowed back and forth and side to side as she moved her body. She danced somewhat close to the guy whose name she did not know. He didn’t seem to mind one iota. He was definitely having the time of his life if that whopper of a smile was anything to go by.

  About six minutes later, the song ended, much to the dismay of Indea and Simone, both of whom felt the disappointment.

  Both girls thanked the guys for the dance before heading back to the bar, parched from the exertion. The bartender again winked at Indea, this time giving her a sultry stare.

  Simone shook her head mentally as he got his fill of Indea.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Simone waited for him to acknowledge her. “This place is fantastic. It’s just gorgeous. I love the whole feel of it. Do you own it?”

  The bartender laughed. “I wish. But, no. A guy named Van Pironẻ owns it. I know he has a partner but I don’t know his name. They went into business together a while back. I can tell you want to compliment him. Lots of people do. Usually, if he comes in, he sits in the shaded corner.” He pointed to a secluded spot. “He keeps to himself mostly. He sits in that darkened corner whenever he comes in. He likes to observe people. See how they take to his club.” He looked at Indea. “Name’s Michael.”

  “Michael. I’m Indea and this is my very best friend, Simone.” Indea introduced, shaking his hand.

  “Lovely names for such lovely looking ladies.” Michael declared. He took Simone’s hand and shook it longer than was necessary. “If you want to talk to Van, he usually gets here at eleven.” He glanced at his watch. “He’ll be here in less than an hour if you’d like to wait,” he suggested.

  “Great. Thanks, Michael.” Indea raised her glass. “These are delicious by the way.” She took another sip of her Long Island Iced Tea.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, Indea.” He touched her hand before moving to the other side of the bar to serve more thirsty patrons.

  “He’s definitely from somewhere in England,” Indea perceived.

  Simone sipped her virgin Pinậ Coloda. “You’ve found some one already, huh?”

  Indea’s head canted to one side. “Eehh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “No sparks.” Indea said simply. “He’s from England. Better suited for you,” she teased.

  Simone shook her head sharply. “No thank you. But what do you mean, no sparks? You both looked like you really hit it off.”

  “Yeah, I know it looks that way, but, no. When he touched me. No zing. You know what I mean, Simone?”

  “Yes. I think I do.”

  “Well, we have less than an hour until Van shows. Dance?” Indea suggested.

  “You read my mind.” Simone grabbed Indea’s hand and walked back out onto the dance floor.

  *

  Indea checked the clock adorning the wall near the front door. She nudged Simone. “It’s ten after eleven.”

  Simone looked around but didn’t see the man named Van any where. A sudden chill went through her body. She felt her back heat pleasantly. She could sense eyes looking straight at her. She turned around. Nothing.

  Strange. She’s never experienced this feeling before.

  “Indea? Do you see him? I’ve looked around twice. I can’t find any one who fits Michael’s description of Van.”

  “No. As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “He might not show tonight, Simone,” she informed her sympathetically. “Sorry.”

  Simone sighed. “Oh, well. Maybe some other time, I guess.” She didn’t know why it seemed that important to meet this Van, but for some reason, it was.

  They decided on one more round of drinks and possibly hitting the dance floor a couple more times. It was still early yet. The music was playing just as strong as it had been when they had first arrived over three hours ago.

  Indea jumped off her stool. “I’m heading to the restroom. Gotta freshen up. Be back in a few.” Indea swayed her hips all the way to the ladies’ room.

  Simone chuckled. That girl. She had male heads turning. Especially Michael’s.

  All but one, that is, Simone noticed. She had to do a double take. That familiar chill ran up and down her entire body once more. In the corner, she was sure, sat that guy Michael was talking about: Van. He seemed to be looking at his table. Without moving his head, his eyes moved upwards, zoning in on Simone. His penetrating stare seemed to burn into her very core. Her mouth agape, she sucked in a huge breath. His eyes hit her like a heated typhoon. He was a dark and brooding character but his eyes were not. They were gray. They were almost an incandescent gray. The intensity of his stare took her breath away. All of a sudden, the world seemed to stop. She couldn’t hear the loud music playing. She couldn’t see the people dancing. She only saw hi
m. Her heart started beating rapidly. Her mouth felt like the Sahara. She blinked. Her head started spinning until she realized she was holding her breath.

  He was dressed in a black coat with flat golden buttons that resembled coins. It looked like it was handmade in another time. The inside, she couldn’t make out because of the lighting in the club. His dark hair touched the nape of his neck and was combed back, showing off the strong features of his handsome face.

  Simone wanted to go over there and tell him what a wonderful club he had and that this was her first time in Paris. Now, she had second thoughts on the matter, which surprised her. This was the first time a man’s ever intimidated her. The first time she didn’t know how to approach a man or what in the world to tell him. She was at a complete loss for words. She wasn’t scared of him. No, that wasn’t it at all. It was that he exuded this pure potent male sensuality it nearly knocked her off her seat. She was being ridiculous, she knew. She should gather her courage and confidently stroll over there like he was any other man and just tell him. She was sure he wouldn’t bite.

  She reminded herself not to judge a book by its cover. Dark and brooding on the outside doesn’t necessarily reflect what’s going on inside.

  Oh, he was sexy. Simone couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She’d never seen a face so perfect, so flawless. It wasn’t fair for him to be both sexy and beautiful at the same time. He could very well be the sexiest man on the planet. He easily looked better than every other man in this room. The women, too, now that she thought of it.

  No, it certainly wasn’t fair.

  They continued their silent perusal of one another until Simone felt a jar.

  “Earth to Simone. Hey, Simone? I’ve called your name a half a dozen times. What’s going on?” Indea furrowed her brows and frowned slightly, that is, until she saw who Simone was staring at. “Whoa! No wonder you didn’t hear me.”

  Simone blinked rapidly. “What? Oh, hey, Indea. Did you say something?”

  Indea cocked her left eyebrow. “He’s already gotten you tongue-tied and you haven’t even traded pleasantries yet.” She studied the man. “Though, I can’t say that I blame you. I’d be doing just about the same thing if I were you.”

  “Yeah.” Simone shook her head slightly. She finally noticed the music playing and the dancers on the dance floor.

  Funny how he made everything mute for a moment. A moment? How long were they staring at each other? Confusing and men were usually never in the same sentence. Simone let out a whoosh of air.

  Indea gave Simone a little nudge. “Well. Go talk to him,” she cajoled. “He seems to only have eyes for you.”

  Simone again looked at Van. He smiled at her and her heart nearly stopped in shock. Oh, my. Hot. Hot! HOT! Chiseled jaw. Smooth skin. Plump lips. His whole face lit up when he smiled. He had dimples on both cheeks. His gray eyes seemed to glow when his smile cracked his rather brooding look. Talk about night and day. Even though, he is still sexy either way. His intense look seemed to melt completely away when his lips curved into a genuine smile.

  “What are you waiting for? This is Van, is it not?” Indea asked.

  “Yes.” Simone continued looking at Van. He gave her a hard, salacious stare as he crooked his index finger. He was inviting her over! She sucked in a breath and got off her seat.

  Indea whispered in Simone’s ear. “Go get’em, tiger. Grrr.”

  Simone held her chin up and made her way across the dance floor.

  She reached his table. Oh, my. He’s even sexier up close. “Hello.” Her voice cracked a little. She cleared her throat and tried again, much to her horror. She reached out her hand. “Hello. I’m Simone. Are you Van, by any chance?”

  “Yes. I am Van Pironẻ. Welcome, Simone, to my club.” He took her hand softly. His mere touch made her body tingle.

  Was this the zing Indea was talking about? Wait a minute. She just met the guy for Pete’s sake. She didn’t know him from Adam. How could it be possible?

  And his voice? It could melt a glacier in winter. It was deep and throaty. So masculine, it commanded attention. Even though he was wearing that brocaded coat, she could tell he had a body built for sinful thoughts.

  Van let go of her hand, leaving it cold. He motioned to a chair opposite him. “Please. Sit down.”

  Simone sat across from Van. Comfortable in his silence, he waited for Simone to continue.

  She cleared her throat yet again. She laced her fingers together and placed them on the table in front of her. “Your place is absolutely breathtaking, Mr. Pironẻ.”

  “Thank you, Simone. But, please, call me Van.”

  I’ll call you anything you want me to, she thought mischievously before she could stop herself.

  Van raised his eyebrows, grinning roguishly, but said nothing.

  Were her eyes giving her away or something? She didn’t say anything out loud. Did she? He was staring at her so passionately she forgot her vocabulary. She darted her gaze elsewhere, hoping to find her voice. What did he say? Call him Van? Oh, yes. That was it.

  “Okay,” she spoke finally. “Van.”

  The way she said his name flowed over him like warm honey and settled in his black jeans.

  “So. Tell me a little about yourself. Your accent has a hint of Irish, yes?” he pointed out. He pretty much knew all about Simone Timms. No, she didn’t need to give her last name. Her father abandoned her halfway out of her mother’s womb. He could think of a few choice words to say to Simone’s father. Somehow, he knew it still would not sit well with her, regardless if her father left her and her mother. He was still her father and probably wouldn’t take kindly to a stranger’s meddling.

  Fatherless or not, she grew up well. He observed her. She was a gorgeous specimen of a woman. Long, flowing red tresses. Large, apple seed shaped eyes, glowing with bits of green, brown and a touch of blue. Maybe a few gold flecks for a unique look. Hazel. That was what he had heard people call that specific color.

  Slightly full cheeks gave her a younger appearance but he knew in her mind, she was a mature woman. Her pouty red lips looked so kissable soft. Her creamy skin practically begged to be caressed. She was a very sexy woman. The only thing he could consider cute would be her button nose.

  Her buxom body gave her maturity away. So did her well defined arms and legs. Earlier, he could only think of touching her, but in this case, her bite would be worse than her bark.

  So, he listened. He listened when she told him about her best friend Indea Sky. Likes and dislikes and other non-private little tidbits that one didn’t mind talking about with someone they just met.

  She didn’t say too much about anything else. Why should she? As far as she was concerned, he was a stranger and she didn’t feel the need to say anything else about her life. He was not the one to pry and wouldn’t look into her mind for any reason. He was never a nosy person. The golden rule. He wouldn’t want people in his business 24/7. That’s why he would never make it in Hollywood, he quipped silently.

  Van enjoyed the sweet sound of Simone’s native tongue. And quite the contrary to popular beliefs, he could listen and think at the same time. It wasn’t that difficult to multi-task. He was only doing two things after all.

  When Simone finished, she asked him if she would like to meet her best friend.

  “I would love to, yes,” Van answered.

  Simone managed to catch Indea’s attention rather quickly. She signaled her over.

  “Indea. Meet Van Pironẻ, the owner. Van. Meet my good friend, Indea Sky.”

  They shook hands and Van commented, “Indea Sky? What an unusual name.”

  “Yeah. My dad is from the Cherokee nation from Tennessee. My mother was born and raised in Chậtearoux. They are now residing here in Paris,” she related politely.

  “Ahh. That makes for an interesting accent,” Van stated.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Pironẻ.” Indea shook his hand once more. “Well. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “L
ikewise,” Van said well-manneredly.

  Indea turned to Simone. “Michael asked me to dance with him once before we leave. See you in a bit.” She about-faced and joined Michael on the dance floor.

  Simone faced Van once again and the next question he asked her threw her off guard. “Would you consider going for an evening stroll with me tomorrow?” Van asked graciously.

  Simone may have been surprised at his sudden invitation but she couldn’t doubt that she wanted to know more about him. She was thoroughly intrigued by this mysterious man. So she didn’t hesitate too much when she answered. “I would love to, Van.”

  “I know you do not know me so I would think you would be more comfortable meeting me,” he guessed.

  Simone was touched at his consideration. “That would be great. When and where?”

  “Meet me in front of the Louvre Museum at, say, eight?” suggested Van.

  “I’ll be there,” Simone promised.

  “It was wonderful talking with you, Simone. If you’ll please excuse me?” He captured her hand in his and placed a slow, soft kiss on her fevered skin. “Until tomorrow.”

  Simone was breathless when his lips touched her skin. “Tomorrow,” she whispered.

  Wow, she thought to herself. It was like some fantastic dream. Maybe she should pinch herself.

  Nah. I might wake up.

  Indea finished her dance with the bartender, Michael. She came over to the table where Simone was still sitting.

  “I think you’ve found your sexy Frenchman.” Indea stated in a sing-song lilt. “If you’re ready, Michael’s going to walk us to the car.”

  Simone stood. “You go ahead. I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be out as soon as I can,” she informed her. “Besides, I think Michael was just being nice. He really wouldn’t mine taking only you to your car. It’s okay. Go on,” she said with a playful push.

  “Okay.” Indea left out the door with Michael following close behind.

  Maybe Michael would work out for Indea but never with her. He was just a bit too annoying for her liking. He acted like Indea had bones in her pocket and he was a love sick puppy, going wherever Indea went. Simone didn’t think she could put up with that kind of neediness.