Designer Drugs (18+)

Chapter 6 - Where Did I Leave My Mind?

My body shifts along the cool silk of the bed sheets.. wait.. my bedsheets aren't silk.

I sit up suddenly, my eyes adjusting to the bright light in the room. Where am I?

My mind suddenly connects all the details from last night. My head is pounding. Gia, bar, drinks, Vincenzo.... Vincenzo? 

I look to the right of me in bed and no one is occupying the space with me. Where did he go?

I sit up in the golden silk, using the expensive sheets to cover my naked body. Vincenzo and I didn't go all the way last night,  but I definitely let my morals loose, to say the least. Keeping my hands over my naked body, I sneak out of the bed and sneak across the plush carpet, picking up my various clothing items thrown around the room.

Passing by the mirror, I catch the glimpse of my body. I admit I'm conceited as hell, I constantly call myself a model in my mind, and I'll let anyone know. My eyes are drawn to my left hip, where a large silver-ish scar stands out to me, about 8" long. 

I sigh, remembering that night. My dad fucked up another deal, per usual and the victims broke into our house. I flinch as I have a flashback of the sharp blade entering my side. I hate that scar, it reminds me of the life I lived before this.

I shake my head of the awful memory and slip my little black dress back on, covering that hideous scar. That wasn't the only one on my body because of my dad's stupidity, but that story is for another day.

I snap back to reality as the facts of last night sets in. Vincenzo and I didn't have sex, what respectable girl puts out on the first date? I wanted him so bad and can't get that sculpted body out of my mind, but I'm glad I waited. Being in a new country, I'm a bit hesitant about the men but I'm glad he respected my choice.

Zipping the dress, I see a flash out of the corner of my eye. The sunlight coming through the full-length windows and hits something sitting on the nightstand. 

I walk over to the curious flashing, carrying my heels by the straps in one hand.

Lying next to my phone is a business card. Plainly written in gold metallic ink, matching the room is the words "Vincenzo Lombardi" and a phone number underneath. Although he didn't spend the night, at least he left me a way to contact him. 

What happened to Gia last night? I check my phone, ignoring the beauty of the room. I have 33 messages from her, including two voicemails. I click the first voicemail and brace myself for the worst.

"IT'S GIA MILANI" I listen to my crazy cousin yelling over loud music, clearly she called me from the club. I laugh and keep listening. "I HOPE YOU'RE GETTING FUCKED BELLA" I hear laughing and Italian spoken between my cousin and what sounds like two or three other people. 

I shut my phone off, knowing where the rest of the voicemail is going. Checking the texts, 30 out of 33 are just pictures of her with random people from the club, and about 10 with the same girl. I wonder who she is.

From the room, I call a car to take me home, looking in the mirror one last time to make sure nothing is hanging out. I notice a light hickey on my neck and shyly run my hand over it, not remembering when he gave me that. I'm also surprised how well my makeup stayed and how lightly matted my hair is. 

Damn, was he good in bed. Although we didn't have sex that doesn't mean he didn't work wonders between my legs. I close my eyes and smile, letting myself relish in the fact of how wild we were in those sheets. I miss the feeling of his hard body against mine and I wonder when I will see him again.

My phone starts buzzing with a phone call from the driver and I hustle downstairs, heels in hand. The stairs down to the club look a lot different than the did last night. This time, all of the lights are on and doesn't have the same allure than the first time I walked the red carpet to my mystery man.