Fabio returned to our table in the corner of the floor with scotch. The usual gang of misfits came over to shoot the breeze and check out the talent. Mario was short, rotund, and a suave dresser. His father was the muscle behind the mob, the man who provided the brawn to wise guys. The old man had a vicious temper, the polar opposite of his son, who was a lover, not a fighter. Franco’s father was the mob accountant. If laundering money was a sport, he'd win gold at the Olympics. The two were an odd pair—Franco pale, waiflike, and prone to being pissy and short-tempered—Mario gregarious, larger than life, and happy go lucky.
The boys were boisterous while the DJ played the biggest disco hits of the season. I listened and laughed at their crazy antics while I kept the brunette in my sights. I waited until she sat down at a table before I made my move. Fabio, wingman extraordinaire, went from zero to a hundred in a flash. He gave me a knowing smile and said, “Okay, let’s dance.”
“See you later, boys,” I told Mario and Franco.
“Yeah, later losers,” Fabio said as he bowed in jest.
Mario turned his attention to a cute girl in very tight pants. “Hey, baby, wanna spend my money?”
She laughed at his silly grin and came closer to the table. “Why, honey, how much do you have?”
“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you.”
So she did, while Franco sat sipping on his beer and scanning the floor for his next heartbreak.
ELEANORA
His mellifluous voice caressed my ears while his bright green eyes arrested mine. I watched his full lips as he spoke.
“Hi, I’m Joe.” No lame come-ons, refreshing. He spoke with an English accent, but even if he never spoke at all, his presence would do the talking for him. He towered over me as he stood next to our table.
“Hi, I’m Eleanora.” My tone was as cool as a fall day, but on the inside, my stomach was doing the tango. He was magnificent; his emerald eyes strayed far from mine, although I did catch him checking out my jumpsuit a few times. He pulled me into his presence. I was unable to escape his gaze.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He smiled at me and my body tingled. “Another drink,” he said as he scanned the shameless row of shots lining the table already.
“I never was one for shots,” I cooed. “Thanks for rescuing a wine drinker. I’d love a Lambrusco, Joe.”
Bria and Joe’s sidekick were on the dance floor in a flash, neither one risking any wasted time. I wondered if the young man had any idea what he’d gotten himself into. Bria was a handful. She had a heart of gold—I couldn’t have hoped for a better friend—but she kept men on their toes. She was the only child of a wealthy couple who’d been friends with my parents for many years. When we’d first met, I’d thought she was a brat. It took a while for us to click, but once we did, there was no going back. I suspected we’d bumped heads at the off because we were both strong-willed, fiercely independent, and without siblings.
“I see my buddy, Fabio, has a crush on your blonde friend.”
“I hope he’s got strong feet. Bria’s gonna keep him on his toes.” I smiled as I watched the two do the hustle, laughing and swinging to the beat.
“Fabio is a big boy; he can handle himself with the ladies.” He watched them for a bit, and then, he turned back to me. “Would you like to dance?”
I’d be lying to myself if I denied that my body begged me to twirl on the dance floor with him. There was a chemistry between us that was electric.
“Okay,” I said coolly, hoping not to trip over my feet as I hopped off the tall chair. I wasn’t prepared to fall for him just yet.
The club was newly built and had all the latest gadgets and sound equipment one could wish for in a disco crazed era. The colors were as bright as the faces of those who gave themselves over to the pumping beat. As Joe and I took the floor, the music shifted to a slower song by the Bee Gees. Joe didn’t miss a beat. He took my hands and pulled me to him as we swayed to the rich, dark chocolate, harmonies of the Gibb brothers.
His chest was hard as nails, muscles twitching as we glided across the dance floor. His smooth olive skin glistened under the lights. I felt shudders attack me in delightful jolts as he spun and dipped me to the music. Despite my “hard to get” intentions, I was putty in his hands.
He leaned in closer and said in my ear “You’re very beautiful, Eleanora.”
The sound of his voice and the words he spoke turned my insides to warm, liquid honey. His breath on my skin summoned a tingle from my thighs, setting my desire for his touch on fire. I wondered what it would be like to caress his strong arms, kiss his luscious lips, feel him deep . . . Get a grip, Ella! Remember your rule!
But it was too late for rules. When he lifted my chin gently so he could look deep into my eyes, I knew I was in trouble. He pulled me closer as his mouth took control of mine, our tongues dancing to
