Page 48 of Chasing Caine
The entrance was small, with a crimson awning and the club’s name on the wall next to it in a flaming script: La Fiamma. Mario walked directly to one of the two bouncers. Letting go of the nameless woman, he embraced the man who ushered us in.
“Well, this is a first,” said Samantha.
I kissed her again. “Wait until you see the inside.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Mario always brings me here.” Glancing at her, I winked. “I believe we’ll finally have that tango tonight.”
She rolled her eyes at me with a mock frown. “We’ve been tangoing quite a bit lately.”
“But for the first time, amore, I mean on the dance floor.”
Inside the narrow hallway, the music gradually increased in clarity until we climbed the stairs at the end and the room opened. Tiers of seating alcoves with large red couches and chairs surrounded a massive central dance floor, with a long bar to one side. Strobe lights in myriad colors blinked to the music. A wide staircase at the back led to the second floor with more dancers and a view of the main floor from balconies along the edge.
Mario’s hands flicked this way and that, signaling hello to the DJ, for drinks from the bar, and to a few of the bouncers. This was his element.
As the four of us sat on one of the large red couches away from the dance floor, a server placed a tray with shot glasses on our low table. Mario and his date spoke into each other’s ears, yelling over the music.
“What’s this?” Samantha held up the glass closest to her, a bright blue shade.
I shrugged and held up a matching one to toast. “To Napoli!”
She did the same. We clinked and downed them. It was almost violently sugary, tasting of children’s drinks and cotton candy.
She shook her head quickly and stuck out her tongue, leaning in to yell in my direction. “Too sweet!”
We both grabbed red glasses and tried again. Tequila, tabasco, and likely chili peppers. She coughed and spluttered after that one.
“Too spicy?” I asked, and she nodded.
“Third time’s the charm?” She selected two creamy brown shot glasses and handed one to me. Taking a cautious sniff first, she nodded. Before she drank it, I twined my arm around hers and we enjoyed them together. Chocolate and cinnamon, like Nutella on a cinnamon roll. She licked her lips when we finished that one and reached for another.
I pulled her shoulder closer. “You’ve already had three. Slow down!”
She raised her eyebrows at me and gave me a peck on the cheek. Handing me a creamy brown one, she wrapped her arm around mine. “To spontaneous vacations!”
After adding these shots to the wine we enjoyed before leaving the villa, a pleasant buzz prodded at my brain already. But how could I resist her? We polished those off and slammed them down on the table together, laughing.
Samantha’s face had softened since Wednesday, since leaving the investigation behind. There was a hint of longing to pursue it still, but she didn’t bring it up.
She fingered my shirt collar and trailed the back of her knuckles down the placket where I’d left the top buttons undone. “Are you going to ask me to dance, Dr. Ferraro?” She slipped a hand under the fabric, brushing my bare chest, her eyes never leaving mine.
“There is little in the world I want more than to dance with you.” I withdrew her hand and pulled the palm to my lips, savoring her, eyes easing shut to inhale her natural perfume. Intoxicating. I signaled to Mario we were heading to the dance floor, but he was deep in conversation.
As we stood, Samantha handed me a blue shot glass, saying, “One more for the road!”
We threw the drinks back and I returned the glasses to their tray. Still not as good as the chocolate. But when she came close, I could smell the combination on her breath, and it was remarkably improved.
She undid another button on my shirt so it was half-undone. “That’s better.”
I threaded my fingers over the top of one of her hands, guiding it to the skin she’d exposed. “Is this to be a battle of seduction tonight?”
She rolled her eyes, still shy after almost a week in constant contact.
“You seem to be the competitive type.” I released her hand inside my shirt, but hers remained in place. “We could put a wager on it?”
One slow blink and a sly smile. Not the blink of difficult words, nor of uncertainty. No, this blink meant the game was already on.