Mr. Vincenzo | 18+

one

e l o i s e

Whoever said kids were blessings clearly hadn't dealt with one in real life.

Or twelve.

At once.

I needed a drink.

A place where teenagers posed as adults and acted as kids was certainly not my destination.

Il Paradiso.

I didn't know how much I could trust online ratings when I knew a part of the workers' jobs was to make the costumers rate them five regardless of their opinion but Il Paradiso was the best bar I could make to and fro in this heavy traffic of NYC while managing to drop and pick up Julianne on the way.

Soon as I drove in front of teen-hit house, I pressed on the break and turned to Julianne with a warning look. "Enjoy all you want but I want you to not look like you've been hit by a truck in the morning."

She raised a perfectly-shaped blonde eyebrow. "You have a grotesque way of saying things, you know that, right?"

"Yes."

"Fineeeeee. I won't drink enough to be obvious to Mom and you won't drink enough to get a DUI ticket."

I dropped my head against the steering wheel. "Of course, my karma, I brought this onto myself."

"I told you, whatever Mom might believe, I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"Had I not agreed with whatever Aunt Lisa was saying, we'd both be at your home right now, building houses of cards and hushing at least ten of our cousins, nieces, and nephews."

"You win this one." Julia chuckled. "But what's the point? I'm the one who gets to enjoy."

"I'll drive us straight home, then we'll see."

The speed she stepped out and shut the car door with astonished me.

"You get to drink virgin mojitos all night, Eloise. Drive safe, not drunk."

She waived me off and was already swinging her arm around a girl shorter than her with a paper cup to her lips.

I sighed.

I set the Google Maps and hoped that the bar was a quiet one, silent music, nice drinks, no acquaintances, and at least one hot as hell boy for me to fawn over or flirt with and go on if reciprocated.

Definitely go on if reciprocated. I'd been single for too long.

How much more time I was going to take to get over Dylan? He didn't deserve the two years he got and each passing day.

I drove to my destination.

The first thing that caught my attention at Il Paradiso was its byline: The only paradise you could possibly make it to.

For a bar named paradise, its dark theme more reflected like the palace of Hades with a rather bluish hellfire. I liked the ambiance better than glaring yellows and reds with pop intolerable beyond two minutes. It was what I wanted at the moment, tranquil and relaxed. I crossed the aisle and occupied one of the empty booths at the back. Aside from me, only two other groups occupied this space; one of them looked like they were getting wasted to forget their hectic day at office and the other looked like they were scheming to rob someone of millions of dollars. I looked like someone in need of a company.

I placed an order too innocent for a bar and phoned Aryanna.

"What?" She snapped two seconds later.

"Woah there," I said. "Did I call at the wrong time?"