Leon's POV
"And you know- these people talk so much about how they care about the environment, but they're still buying the shit we're selling them!" Mr McCann laughs, a button in his shirt almost popping.
I skull my drink, trying my best not to punch the cunt in the gut.
Throughout this gold-coated evening, everyone and their dog has decided to come up and talk to me about shit that has nothing to do with me.
Steven McCann. I don't even know what the sorry excuse for a man does, but he's been talking to me about how environmentalists are idiots and should know better, how private jets aren't worth the investment, and how using single use plastics aren't even that bad.
I don't think he even understands the points he's trying to make.
He's been debating the topic with me for 20 minutes. I haven't said a word in 10.
I do know, however, that he uses his private jets to send his mistresses around the world behind his wife's back.
Like I said: sorry excuse for a man.
A server walks past, holding a tray of negronis. I grab 2.
"Ah, thanks man." McCann speaks, reaching to grab a drink.
I pull my hand back, drinking both as fast as I can, handing him the glasses, and walking away.
My cuff moves back as I stretch my arm, checking the time.
11:39
Close enough.
I find Nick talking to some woman in a corner table, his tie pulled down, his top buttons undone.
"I'm on pick up duty. I'll see you in an hour." I say, leaning down to speak to him.
He nods, the girl seated next to him batting her lashes as I stand back up.
I ignore her, turning my back to them as I check my phone, walking toward the exit.
I scroll through the notifications, messages from Giselle and some clients, but none from Layla.
I'd been thinking about the dress in the back of my car the whole night, and waiting to see her in it.
I can't wait to get out of here.
The valet pulls my car around and I slide in, closing the door and putting the navigation on my phone.
Whoever's rich asshole son's party this is, they live in a nice area.
I pull up to the street after almost 20 minutes of driving, almost getting in 2 car accidents -neither were my fault- and find a free parking spot just up the street.
I turn the car off, opening my phone and calling Layla.
No response.
No way in fuck is she going to make me go into a high school party.
I call again.
No response.
Fuck.
I sigh, the baggy in the glove box tempting.
My fingertips tingle at the thought, as well as my nose.
I shake my head, opening the door and stepping out.
The music is so loud it almost almost makes me feel bad for the neighbours. I laugh.
I feel the eyes on me as I walk up the steps of the house, walking through the front door.
My shoes immediately feel sticky on the floor as I walk through the hallway, cups of beer tipped over every half metre.
The lights make me remember why I started snorting. So fucking boring.
The whole house is packed, which is saying something, considering it isn't small.
It smells like sweat and cheap booze.
How the hell am I going to find her?
Walking through, I stop, waiting for the kids to move out of my way.
I walk into a larger room, realising my mistake as soon as the music somehow gets louder and the people practically double.
Hands wrap around my neck, a body pressing into mine and I cringe, unwrapping myself.
Taking a few steps back, I scan the room.
I see a staircase, a few people talking and sipping at the bottom.
Pushing my way through the crowd I now find myself standing in the middle of, I weave my way to the staircase.
If it was anyone else, I wouldn't have even come inside.
"Any of you seen a girl in a red dress? L- Sofia?" I ask over the music, all their heads turning to me.
"Uhh yeah man, she's upstairs-" One of the guys says, before a look of realisation covers his face, "Wait aren't y-"
I cut him off by walking up the stairs, avoiding the couples quite literally fucking each other in front of everyone.
I get to the top of the steps, pulling my tie down and undoing my top button.
I've been here barely 5 minutes and I'm sweating.
Running a hand through my hair, I start opening doors.
A bathroom, a girl holding another girls hair back, throwing up. Classic.
A bedroom, someone getting head. Congrats.
Another bathroom, a kid snorting some shit, his friend yelling to shut the door. Cute.
Another bedroom, someone in the middle of sucking face-
Red dress.
He's holding her fucking face in his hands.
He's fucking whispering to her.
I step back, the purple lights in the hallway turning red.
You can't beat up a high school kid.
She'll hate you for it.
Someone got in the way. He fell down the stairs.
"Move."
His friends pull him out of the way as I get to the bottom.
I slam the car door, the red lights still in my head.
My key covered in powder, my nose covered white.
Her fucking dress sparkling in the back as I drive.
The bag empty as I pull back up to the venue. I toss it in the back.
Flashing cameras blind me as I step out of the car, throwing the keys to the valet.
How could she?
I find Nick.
He's still with that girl.
"Leon what's-"
"Go back to mine?"
"What?"
"Us. Right now." I point to the girl.
She looks at Nick, confused, but already going for her bag.
Fake.
"Leo are you good?" Nick asks, standing up.
"You gonna fuck her or not?" I ask, stepping forward.
He shakes his head, looking between us, "Nah man."
"Then get the lady her coat." I walk ahead, hearing her heels catching up.
How could she?
YOU ARE READING
Odessa
Romance{ dark romance } { check warnings } When Layla finally gets her opportunity to run away from her parents, she runs to New York. Her goal is to blend in, but within the first 48 hours of being in the city, that proves impossible. Her secrets follow...
