Chapter 3

Fucking pervert.

Ava told herself in embarrassment as one stripper ran forward from behind her to the man she thought had his eyes on her, almost shoving her out of the way. How silly was she to think he had been trying to tempt her?

She was away from where anyone could possibly see her shame and went to the front bar, a bit intimidated by the three hefty men that were helping themselves to shots of whiskey.

“Good evening, lady,” The bartender, a visibly curly haired Indian man greeted her. “What mix would you like to have?”

“Mix?” she blurted out before even realizing she was not supposed to give off the fact that it was her first time in the club. For heaven’s sake, it would be embarrassing if they’d find a woman of twenty-six was visiting the club for the very first time. She resolved she would just pretend not to have heard him clearly the first time.

“Sorry, I…”

“I see it’s your first time in a bar, lady?” the bartender dared to smile as he spat such mockery at her. The three hefty men even turned to face her.

Shit!

She forced a grin although she wished she would vanish off the face of the planet. “I suppose it is my first time in a bar.”

“Should I do my trick for you then?” the bartender leaned himself on the shelf that was separating them. “I know what ladies usually request for when they visit the club for the first time,” he observed her steadily.

“Let me guess,” she smiled more freely. “The strongest drink you have?”

He snapped his fingers. “Absolutely,” he leaned backward. “Madhav’s magic mix coming in a minute.”

She inclined with a nod. Madhav must be his name.

He kept a squat widemouthed glass on the table, and threw in three ice cubes. A bottle of one of the strongest azure Las Vegas whiskeys, swung it round, up and down like one of those tricks they do on TV. Another bottle of whiskey, he repeated a similar trick before covering a cup above the glass and shaking the mix rigorously. When he placed the glass back on the table, the azure and brown whiskeys were perfectly blended. He tossed in a slice of fresh lemon and…

“Viola!” he exclaimed as he handed the drink to her.

“Thank you,” she collected the glass of mixed drinks with curiosity. “Where did you learn to do that?” she asked, amused by his skills.

“My father,” he said. “And my grandfather, they were both bartenders.”

“In India?”

He shook his head in disagreement. “No, here in Las Vegas.”

“Then, your…”

“My accent?” he asked with a grin. “I grew up in India with my mum, only came to Las Vegas six years ago,” he motioned to the glass of whiskies she was holding. “You haven’t had a taste.”

“Oh, true,” she raised the glass high, the next moment she found herself needing to pour the drink out of her mouth. The harshness, bitterness, how does anyone drink something so strong? She could actually feel her throat burn but she held the urge to spit it out. She had had enough embarrassment for one night.

“It’s my guess you don’t like it. Have you ever had whiskey before?”

“I have,” she lied. “I just haven’t had one as strong as this.”

The bartender started wiping a white towel over some glasses. “You keep looking over there,” the position of his gaze made it evident where he was talking about. “Do you like him?”

Ava took a large gulp of the drink she hated just few minutes before. “M-me?” she stammered. She did not even realize her secret peeks were that obvious. “Why would I look at him?” she took another throat scaring gulp.

“The ladies always do that,” he peeked through one of the shot glasses he had just finished wiping. “I would not be surprised if you were one of those ladies.”

“I am definitely not one of them,” she replied sternly then made to gulp down more drink, she noticed her glass was now empty.

“Another mix?”

“Just give me a whole bottle of whatever mix is in here.”

The bartender brought a bottle of whiskey, opened his cap and gestured to pour the content for her.

Ava pushed her cup forward in agreement. “Is he a regular here?”

“He is,” the bartender said simply. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to attend to other customers.”

Memories of her friend and boyfriend on the bed that evening returned to hunt her as soon as the bartender left. She gulped more and more of the bitter drink till there was almost nothing left in the bottle and the world began spinning. She knew she had drunk too much.

Just then, she caught a reflection of herself in the glass she was holding.

Her mascara had come running down when she cried and she looked as horrible as she was feeling. In a panic, she staggered up from her chair and was headed to the restroom when it occurred to her…she did not even know where the restroom was.

Still in a stagger, she attempted to return to her chair and ask the bartender but tripped over the edge of a leather cushion. Her hands flew backward and her legs forward. The next thing she knew…Oh, wait. The floor would not be this soft. This feels quite hard but the floor is definitely harder.

When she blinked up to see her savior, she noticed the spinning handsome face that was looking at her with concern was that of the pervert that had confused her earlier. She foolishly smiled and suddenly had no will to erect herself from his arms.

“Are you okay?” his voice was deep and husky as he asked. “Can you stand?”

No, there was no way she could stand. She raised her hand to his chest, feeling its masculinity. From its hardness, she knew he was not one that joked with the gym.

“Can you hear me?” he asked dry, throwing her hand away from his chest with his other free hand. “Please raise yourself from me.”

Ava scoffed and tried to stand by herself but staggered into him again. Her delicate body, brushing against the hardness of his.

“Let’s get a room,” she struggled out a whisper as she futilely raised her legs so her mouth would reach his ears.

For heaven’s sake, what did she just utter? Of course, she had planned to get herself deflowered that night and indeed, she wanted it to be by a stranger. She did not want it to be a lover who would break her heart, however. Why was she saying it so shamelessly? It was odd, he would refuse her stupidity.

“Are you sure you want it?”

Yes, it was time for her to correct her misstatement, it’s her virginity for goodness’ sake. Although she did not want to lose it to a lover, for she was sure she would never have one again, she did not want the man she’d lose it to, looking at her as if she was a cheap woman. “Yes,” she muttered confused by her own words. “I want it.”

“We’ll sign a contract before I even touch you.”

Outrageous! The man was more obnoxious than a blank piece of cardboard paper.

“There will be no need for that,” she said, intentionally making her voice sultry. “It will be just for tonight.”

Maybe it was the drink or her heartbreaking experience that very evening but wherever her brazenness was coming from, she was certain she would regret it the following morning.

“Where are your things, purse or anything?”

“I’m with my purse already,” she heard herself giggle as she indicated where her properties where by tapping the pink, gold chained, small cross purse she had on her left shoulder. “I’m not with anything else.”

“Then, I will get us a room.”

He gently lowered her to sit on the leather cushion she had tripped on and went to book a room. When he returned, he helped her upstairs to the room he had booked. As they entered, she could feel the rays of the blinding white light in the room sting her eyes. She shut them, then slowly opened them again so they could adjust to the brightness.

“Do ye need anything?” he asked as he dropped her on the white sheeted bed. “Water or something?”

“I need you,” she chortled, tapping on the bed as a way to invite him down to sit beside her but he just stood, with his arms crossed. Staring blanky at her.

In the light, she could make out his magnificent facial features. His short curly hair was as silky and black as a raven’s wings. His ravenous, well-trimmed beards rounded both his upper and lower lips. They were groomed neatly to his sideburns. His eyes had the azure of the sky when the sun had just begun to set. He in short, looked like a Greek god, a perfect definition of manly beauty.

The artwork-like visionary of him was the last thing Ava remembered and when she gained consciousness the next morning, her spinning had stopped and her head had a dull pounding.

She yawned erect on the bed, although, still crumpled by sleep and intoxication. When the realization of the previous night hit her, the alarm she was feeling knocked out every remnant of alcohol and sleep that was still lingering. She raised her gown up to examine herself but calmed when she found nothing had happened. She glanced round the room and caught sight of a sticky note and some cash on the drawer beside the bed.

“Thanks for last night, I dropped extra tips,” she read the note out in annoyance before counting the money she had found with the note. “Two thousand dollars?” she flung both the paper and note away and they came scattering on the bed and some on the floor. She snorted. “Does he think I am a whore or something?”

She knocked her head to recall whatever had happened before she fell asleep but it didn’t seem to work as she still only remembered his handsomeness staring down at her, albeit, emotionlessly.

Her phone vibrated in her purse.

Dad?

She had even missed fifteen calls from him, she quickly cleared her throat and picked the call.

“Hi dad.”

“Goodness, Ava, why weren’t you answering my calls throughout the night?” Mateo nagged at the other end of the phone. “Do you know how worried I was?”

“I am sorry, daddy,” Ava sincerely apologized. “It was not intentional.”

“Where are you?” he asked next, disregarding her apology.

“I am…” she glanced around the hotel room and decided it would be a catastrophe if she told him. “I am coming home soon.”

“You should, we are having guests this evening by seven.”

“What guest, daddy? Business associates?”

“No. The son of an old friend. There is something I must tell him and you must be there as well.”

“Alright, dad. I’ll be home shortly.”

“And your friend, Isa,” Mateo continued. “She came by this morning, dropped your keys and a resignation letter. Is anything wrong?”

Ava’s heart shattered all over again, tears began to fill her eyes. “I broke up with Derick,” she paused for a breath. “They were sleeping together.”

“That bastard,” Mateo cursed. “I knew he was no good. I am so sorry, baby girl.”

“I will get over it,” she inclined with a nod as if he could see her. “We’ll talk better when I am back.”

“Alright, baby girl. I will be waiting.”

As Ava hung up the call, she moped the corner of her eyes then gave a death stare to the money scattered on the floor.

That pervert.

***

Lucas mopped off the tears that were running down Luna’s cheeks. Her sniffles polluted the deadly quietness of the graveyard…only her tears and the palpitating sound of his nervous heart, pounding against his chest.

He had always thought a graveyard would smell of corpses and all things rotten and so he stayed away since the day his parents were buried. Only Luna did the righteous act of visiting their graves every year. But strange enough, he could only perceive the smell of freshly cut grasses and scents of flowers that decorated each tombstone. Luna had also placed a bouquet of white lilies on each of their parent’s grave. A gentle cold breeze bestowed itself in the atmosphere sweeping dry rustling leaves through the concrete tombs.

“Mum, dad,” Luna gasped amidst tears. “I am back to see you and I brought someone,” she took hold of Lucas’s hands and squeezed it. “I know you had missed him dearly and he is here now, to see you.”

She sobbed lowly before continuing. “Is it so cold down there? Are you two happily looking at us?” her sobs became louder. “We’ve missed you two so much, we miss you two every day,” she burst into heavy tears.

Lucas drew her close, resting her head on his chest. Luna had always tried her best as his big sister, even when she was hurt, she would force back her tears and pretend to be strong. He could not bear seeing her so vulnerable but perhaps, it was better she cried away her pains. Maybe, when she was done, her heart will feel lighter, so he thought.

He held her rubbing her back till she was done, holding back his own tears. It was still so vivid. That night, shattered pieces of glasses buried themselves into his parent’s neck and bodies. His mother had wrapped herself around him like a bird protecting its eggs. He had no single scratch on him but his parents lost their lives.

He could not say a word, he did not have that courage to do so but he made a silent promise…to take care of Luna and love only her as his sister throughout his lifetime. He had made that promise to himself years back but now, he was making it to his parents.

When Luna had finished crying, she patted their graves and they silently returned to their car.

“Are we going there now?” Luna asked with a c**** in her voice, she had cried too much.

Lucas twisted his arms and peered at his wristwatch. “Yes, this almost six. It would be rude to be late.”

“You can drive,” Luna instructed their chauffeur. “I already sent you the location.”

Lucas was still cold from visiting his parents grave and he could guess Luna was the same, none of them said a word to each other till they reached the tall white Danielson mansion.

Their guests were lined up outside already to welcome them. The mistress and master of the house, Lucas had a memory of the mansion but it was quite dully.

As their car stopped in front of the mansion where their hosts stood, his mouth dropped open.

“Pervert!”

“Club!”

Both he and the young lady of the house exclaimed in unison.

Wait, did she just refer me as a pervert?