Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
"You get too close, you make it hard to let you go."
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The club's neon lights blurred as I slumped over the bar counter, clutching a glass of water and sipping it slowly, trying to regain some sense of sobriety as Mabel's Don't Call Me Up played in the background.
Turns out wild Azalea had many consequences.
The room was still pulsing with music, laughter, and the haze of celebration, but I needed a moment to breathe. The echoes of the night lingered in my body, a pleasant ache from dancing too hard and laughing too loudly.
"Rough night?" A voice cut through my daze, low and too close for comfort. I looked up to see a man leaning against the bar, eyes dark with a glint that set my nerves on edge.
His smirk widened as he looked at me, taking in my flushed face before trailing his gaze down my body as I shifted away from him subtly.
"I'm fine." I said, offering a polite but firm smile and turned away, hoping he'd take the hint.
"Come on, you're too pretty to be sitting here all alone." He continued, leaning in until I could smell the sharp tang of alcohol on his breath and my muscles tensed as I forced myself to stay calm.
"I'm not alone. My husband is around here." I said, my voice steadier than I felt. Where were the girls? Where was Jamie? Even the guards seemed to have disappeared into the crowd.
The man's hand brushed my arm, the contact making my skin crawl and suddenly, I wanted Harlan here.
"Forget husbands and wives. Why don't we go somewhere quieter?" He suggested, his tone dropping to something predatory.
My heart raced, every alarm bell in my head going off at once as I slipped off the barstool and started walking away quickly, weaving through the crowd.
I didn't look back, hoping he would just lose interest. But as soon as I reached the cool night air outside, I heard footsteps behind me.
Panic shot through me as I turned down a quieter street near an alleyway, the thumping music of the club fading behind me.
I needed to collect myself, breathe, find Jamie or one of the guards. I quickly took out my phone from my bag but before I could call anyone, a rough hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me back.
I gasped, the bile rising in my throat as the man from the bar loomed over me, my phone falling on the ground away from me.
"Don't play hard to get." He slurred, the grin on his face twisting into something uglier. His hand moved to my waist and I struggled, pushing at his chest and trying to break free.
"Let go of me!" I shouted, my voice ringing out into the emptiness of the street. Panic surged through me as his grip tightened, his other hand reaching for my face when I screamed.
