นางร้ายตัวประกอบคนนี้ ขอหนีพระเอกมาเฟีย

ADORA’S P.O.V

"You never know, your Mr. Right might just be sitting at the strip side tonight, or maybe the pool side… just imagine him,” Nichole said, waving her right hand over the air as she demonstrated, but her left hand still gripped my hand as we passed through the noisy crowd. “Rich, hot, and dangerous. Just your type." Nichole shouted, her face immediately turned to look at me

"That's your type, Nikki. Not mine." I shouted back in reply.

The lights that rotated from the chandelier fell on my face in different colours. The hall was filled with lots of people, some singing, some dancing, some laughing at the whispers they told themselves.

“Adora, what are you looking at?” Nichole asked. She had paused when I did. But I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t get my eyes off what had caught it.

“Girl, come on… don’t tell me you have your eye on those fools making out over there.” Her hands rapped together below her breast, folding themselves.

I could see Jeff holding a lady’s waist. I wasn’t so sure who she was. My hands folded into a fist, my eyes still fell on them, looking, watching them kiss in the most lustful way ever.

“He couldn’t even wait for a month before falling into the arms of another chick.” My voice came out low as I swallowed hard.

“Get a hold of yourself, girl, he’s moved on already… he doesn’t deserve you anyway.” Nichole urged. Her hands fell on my shoulder as she faced me towards her direction. “You would have to forget your past and move on, Adora… I mean, look around.” Her lips curled into different directions, her eyes rolling up to the sky as she moved from one side of the hall to another. “There are a billion dudes out there who’d appreciate you without having to make you go through hell!”

“Wait...” her face turned to meet the waiter, she had a smile tugging on her lip, her eyes immediately winking at the waiter, “I’ll have two glasses.” She said, her fingers instantly grabbing the glass from the pan.

“Let’s go to the strip side,” Nichole said.

“Strip side?” My eyes went wide, my hands grabbed one glass of wine from Nichole as I watched her sip from her glass. The strip side was one place I hated to be at, but that was a different case for Nichole. She had a way of walking into a room like she owned the air. Her laughter was loud, her skirts were always shorter than rules allowed, and her words, holy Jesus! They were always in trouble. She could turn a dull party into a scandal and still make everyone love her for it.

“Girl, if you don’t stop frowning your face and acting all sad, people will think you’re allergic to fun. Come on, one dance, one drink, one bed decision. That’s all I’m asking.” She said. She immediately grabbed my hands as she pulled me towards the strip side of the club.

The strip side of the club was another world on its own. It had private booths, rich laughter, very expensive whiskey, and also had men in designer suits. Most were older, filthy rich, and most importantly, they were very handsome men.

I sat uneasily at the edge of a low couch. Not like I hadn’t been there before, but it wasn’t my thing at all. I was just not comfortable at all. My eyes moved from side to side as I glanced at the area. Wealthy men of different classes, most of them staring at me, but Nichole had already left me on arrival at the strip club.

“Hey, pretty...” a voice from a strange man came behind me. But I didn’t say a word, I ignored him, my legs instantly dragged me to the bar counter. My eyes still kept scanning until it finally stopped.

There was a man. A really handsome man, and he had stunning grey eyes. He leaned against the bar with a glass of dark liquid in his hand. I could see a scar that curved down the side of his face, adding to his otherwise perfect features. His suit was expensive but strange; he didn’t look like someone who belonged here, at least not in a place where men forgot themselves in red lights, yet there he was on a tailored black suit that probably cost more than the entire club. Unlike the man who looked sweaty and desperate, the one who had greeted me earlier was. His tie was loosened, not carelessly but deliberately, the kind of man that knew exactly how to make disorder look elegant.

His eyes locked in with mine, it was slow and deliberate, and even the music seemed to have hushed for him.

I couldn’t help but look away quickly.

"He’s coming," I whispered to myself like I was alerting myself.

"Can I buy you a drink?" His very masculine voice came boldly.

"I already have one," I replied.

"Then let’s talk. I don’t bite," he said.

I hesitated, then nodded.

“I'm Don. Don Cana,” he said, giving a very seductive smile. He was charming, and smelled like luxury, smooth and Rich. The scar somehow made him more attractive and older.

“Adorable…. I'm Adora in short form,” I smiled in reply.

“You have a lovely name… Adorable,” we both smiled.

No one ever called me Adorable, no one at all, except for my late mom. I lifted my glass, sipping from it again.

"What do you do, Don?"

He bent his face down, a smile immediately tugged on his lips "Let’s just say, I solve problems."

"You mean like a fixer?"

"Exactly. I fix things... people... situations."

I laughed nervously. "Sounds mysterious."

"So are you, Adorable." Don leaned in.

His grazed hands grabbed my thigh, immediately squeezing it. My eyes flew wide open as I coughed, my hands placing the glass on the counter as I stiffened.