Mistaken Identity (2)

Alicia's POV

Could I just leave it at the nearest table and run?

I glanced at the stairs and noticed a bouncer at the edge a few inches away gazing sternly at me. His muscles looked intimidating, as did the scarred face he had. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn't going to hear anything I had to say. 

A shudder filled me and despair sank in. This wasn't anything I'd expected. I wasn't supposed to be here. I wasn't even dressed for a place like this.

How on earth was I mistaken for someone else?

Seconds passed under the man's stare and the muffled bass. I felt my options run out with every possibility. I didn't know my way around here and there was no certainty I would escape. Even if I did, would I survive in that suffocating crowd? 

I sighed in resignation. There was no choice but to play along. Maybe after I could leave this behind me.

Taking slow steps up the stairs, I found myself on another floor entirely. 

‘This must be the VIP section’, I thought to myself.

It was similar yet a far cry from the crowded mess below. The music here, while sleazy, was also slow to the point of being sensual. The place was quieter with less people. Even without those notes, taking note of the tables scattered around and girls on poles dancing at various spots, it wasn’t hard to guess that the caliber of club goers on this floor were definitely different.

I glanced at some of the women serving drinks and my heart skipped. They were wearing, albeit in shorter, more colorful varieties, similar dress I wore, down to the sequins. Their hair, equally in the either dark or blonde variety without any pop of color, matched the room.

‘It was no wonder I was mistaken’, I thought with a shudder.

 “Over there,” 

I nearly jumped when a man barked orders at me, pointing to a table nearby. I nodded and quickly walked over there. The faster I would serve the drinks, the faster I could leave. 

I'd already suffered through the loud bass before and a headache was forming. Staying here wouldn't help either.

Thankfully none of the men present paid me any mind as I served them. Dropping the tray, I glanced at the occupied bouncers and turned around. It was time to leave.

Yet as I walked, my heel must have caught on something because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

 I reached out to brace myself on the nearest surface, only for me to feel a much less hard surface than the floor under me.

 “Shit. Oh my gosh…” 

I groaned, wincing as my glasses became skewed. I adjusted it and tried to stand up, only for my feet to immediately lose their steadiness again. This time, entirely because an arm out of nowhere was wound around my waist.

Alarm surged through me. I raised my head and for the first time, beheld the face of the person whose lap I had somehow stumbled onto.

“I didn’t know they brought me another dancer,” I heard the man say, and distantly, through the daze I was in, I knew he was talking about me.

 “What..? I’m not a dancer—“ I began to protest.

“You certainly look and act enough like one, hmm?” I felt his legs shift only to realize my position. I was straddling him. And he was enjoying it.

 “Go on, you can start.” he said, sounding amused while ignoring my words and will. Frustration rose within me and I grit my teeth as the man stared at me expectantly.

Couldn’t ANYONE see that I DIDN’T want to be here?

I regretted giving into Daya. I REALLY regretted not staying at home and sleeping off the exhaustion of the week.

Something inside me broke.

My hand moved of its own accord. My palm connected with his cheek in a resounding slap. I pushed myself off him before he could react, stumbling away and cursing my luck.

I had to get out of here.

I had gotten ENOUGH of the club life, Daya be damned!

Rushing down to the ground floor, I was headed to the exit when I felt something forcefully pull me back.

“Leave me alone!” I began to yell and scream, as I was pulled to a location I had no idea where. “Let me go!”

The music became distant as suddenly I was shoved into a bathroom, and I noticed it was the man from before. His expression was unreadable as he approached me.

“Let me go, or I’ll scream! Help!” I raised my voice, which bounced off the tiles. I prayed that someone would overhear me through the music.

“Enough!”

 His voice barked out and I found myself pinned between him and the wall.

My knees nearly buckled as his silvery blond locks fell over his face. His jawline, his eyes… It was almost like he stepped right out of a fashion magazine.

The light was blocked by his shadowed, towering figure.

“Do you know that no woman has ever done that to me?” He looked furious, but I could tell there was a teasing undertone to his voice. “You’re the only woman who has ever thought to even lay a hand on me, topolina.”

What. The. Hell?

It was only then I noticed the hint of accent in his voice, lilting and seductive and downright dangerous. He was so damn scary with the way his gaze bore holes into me. But I refused back down.

 “Let go of me,” I trembled but found the strength in my voice to speak. “You… You don’t have the right to treat me like this!”

He chuckled, and his eyes flashed emerald as I felt his grip tighten over me.

“Oh, do you think that, cara mia? You don’t even know who I am,” he leaned in, close enough that I could taste the aroma of alcohol from his breath. Somehow it didn’t offend me, I only left a strange flutter in my stomach. “I think you’ll find that I can do whatever I want to you, whenever I want.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Mikael?”

My heart skipped as a familiar British accent barked out. Turning to the door I saw him standing there, looking imposing and his eyes blazing. The same man who haunted my dreams.

Acker.