Y/N's POV
Hilton Giardini Naxos welcomed us with an enormous vase in the shape of a head, holding a bundle of tall white and pink lilies. The scent of the flowers filled the impressive entrance hall decorated with golden motifs. "Real ritzy, darling," I said, turning to Martin with a smile. "A bit Louis XVI. I wonder if there's a bathtub with lion paws upstairs."
Everyone burst out laughing. We all had all been thinking the same thing, it seemed. The hotel wasn't as luxurious as a Hilton should have been. There were a lot of shortcomings I could discern with my professional eye.
"The only things that matter are a good bed, a freezer filled with vodka, and some sunny weather," Michał said. "I don't care about anything else."
"Right, well, I forgot this is going to be just another trip of binge drinking. Now I feel bad for not being an alcoholic like the rest of you," I replied with a grimace of mock irritation. "I'm hungry. I had my last meal back in Warsaw. Can we get a move on and eat out today? I can already taste that pizza and wine..."
"Spoken like the absolutely-not-alcoholic afficionado of large quantities of wine and champagne," Martin said with a smirk, wrapping his great arm around my shoulders.
All similarly hungry, we unpacked our things quickly, and after fifteen minutes met in the corridor between our rooms.
With what little time I had, unfortunately I didn't have the opportunity to adequately prepare myself for going out, but on my way to the room earlier I'd been mentally combing through the contents of my baggage. I wanted something that would end up the least crumpled after the long trip. Finally, I'd picked a long black dress with a metal cross on the back, a pair of black flip-flops, a black leather fringe bag, a gold watch, and large round earrings. I'd hastily applied some eyeliner and mascara, touching up my earlier work, which was already fading after the flight, and then powdered my face lightly. I'd grabbed a tube of golden-speckled lip gloss and drew a line along my lips without looking in the mirror.
Karolina and Michał shot me surprised glances as I left the room. They were still in the same clothes they had had on during the flight.
"How did you manage to change clothes already? You look like you had hours to prepare!" Karolina muttered as we were walking to the elevator.
"Well..." I shrugged. "You've got your talent for excessive drinking, but I have a trick or two up my sleeve, too. I prepare in my head, so then I can ready myself in a couple minutes."
"All right, quit it with the chitchat. Let's go have a drink!" Martin boomed.
All four of us crossed the hotel lobby to the exit.
Giardini Naxos at night was a beautiful, picturesque place. The narrow, winding streets pulsated with life and music. There were all kinds of people everywhere, from young partygoers to mothers with children. Sicily only woke up after sundown, it seemed. The scorching heat of the day was too much for everyone to go out earlier. We reached the densely populated port district. There were dozens of restaurants, bars, and cafés along the seafront.
"I'm about to die of hunger here," Karolina said.
"And my blood alcohol content is definitely too low," added Michał. "Look at this place. It'll be perfect."
He pointed to a restaurant by the beach called Tortuga. It was a classy place with glass tables, white chairs and sofas, and candles everywhere. Overhead, enormous sheets of white sailcloth waved and rippled in the wind, making it seem like it was floating. The restaurant was divided into cozy nooks enclosed by heavy wooden beams supporting the cloth roofing. The effect was magical—bright and breezy and simply perfect. The prices were a bit steep, but it was filled with people. Martin waved at a waiter, and with a quick incentive of a few euros, we were sitting comfortably and reading the menu in no time. My dress did nothing to make me blend in with my surroundings. I felt everyone's eyes on me. With all that white, my black outfit made me stand out like a black beacon.
