Although prestigious and of pure Italian malt, I found it inappropriate to drink a Menabrea beer in that setting. Besides, I never liked it.
Determined to order my usual beloved Bellini and get rid of Mike and his elaborate discussion down to the smallest detail on the reason for the breakup with his ex-girlfriend, I got up and went directly to the counter to ask for a drink.
I sat on a stool and waited for the bartender, who immediately came to serve me.
"A Bellini, please," I ordered gently.
In an instant the waiter took a ripe peach and began to whisk its pulp and then filter it with a narrow-mesh strainer.
I was so enthralled by his fluid and precise movements, and by the music that the Folkner musician was playing on the piano nearby, that I didn't notice a person who had sat next to me.
"Good evening," a warm deep voice whispered suddenly, making me jump.
I turned to my left and found myself a few centimeters away from Lorenzo Orlando.
In an instant I felt my throat burn and get completely parched, while my heart began to hammer violently in my chest.
After I got caught three times staring at him, I had done everything to distract myself and forget all the dangers I was running by staying there.
Luckily, Mike's stories had helped me, but now I felt alone, defenseless, and totally vulnerable, sitting so close to that elegant and threatening figure.
I tried to answer his greeting, but it was as if every syllable had got stuck in my throat, suffocating me.
I felt like I was burning under his amber gaze, as he stared at me persistently looking for an answer from me. He was distrustful as well as baffled by my silence.
I was so agitated that I blacked out and didn't remember anything. The only thing that screamed in my head was not to reveal my real name and expose me that way.
I looked at Maya for help, but Lucky and she were kissing.
I returned my gaze to Lorenzo.
He was still staring at me and I felt even more pursued than before.
I was tempted to run away and disappear forever, but luckily the barman came to my rescue, offering me a Bellini.
Trying to control my tremor and the fact that I was breathless, I grabbed the cup.
Turning on the stool to get up, my knees touched his slightly and I felt short of breath.
I looked up in the hope of reading indifference or carelessness in his eyes but found myself electrocuted by the darkness of his dilated pupils.
In his black suit he reminded me of a panther ready to attack its prey.
"Excuse me," I said faintly, moving quickly away and heading for my friend.
I was about to step away from the one who was dismantling my self-control when I felt a strong, yet delicate grip around my arm.
I stopped in fear and saw Lorenzo's tanned hand on my fair skin.
I moaned anxiously.
When an Orlando and a Rinaldi met, it always ended in the same way: with the death of one of the two.
At that moment I understood with certainty that it was I who had the least chance of survival.
I didn't know what expression I had on my face, but it must have been clear enough that Lorenzo let me go.
"You can't be here," he whispered close to me, while his manicured and large hand moved away from my slender arm, tried by that surreal experience.
I was amazed. How had Lorenzo Orlando found out that I was a Rinaldi?
"I ... I ..." I muttered, unable to find a plausible excuse.
"I don't accept freelancers and at this moment I'm not going to hire other escorts," he warned me sternly, pointing to a group of elegant and sexy women who flirted and chatted amiably with some customers.
Escorts?!
Lorenzo had mistaken me for an escort!
I looked at the dress and realized that it was very bold, but I didn't think I could be mistaken for a woman of easy costumes.
Besides, I considered petty and narrow-minded to judge a woman only from her clothing.
Raising my chin and assuming the most angry and haughty attitude possible, I approached calmly the man I genuinely wanted to kick at that moment.
"I'm not a prostitute," I said offended, regaining my voice thanks to the sudden anger that was streaming in my veins.
"They are not either. They are simple escorts. And if they offer extra services, that's not my business. As long as they do it away from here," he replied, taken aback by my unexpectedly unwilling tone.
"Then allow me to correct myself: I'm not an escort," I replied determinedly and sour.
"Sometimes appearances are deceiving," he countered, determined be the winner of that discussion. Apparently, I was not the only one to have mistaken the other person's unfriendly attitude as a personal attack.
I smiled within myself, as I felt the desire to fight my battle and bring victory home.
I didn't know where all that courage came from after feeling so much fear ... maybe it was the adrenaline that wound me like a spring.
"Do not worry. I forgive you. I can understand that a newly reinstated person might have moments of confusion and misunderstand the unequivocal. "
"Reinstated?" He repeated perplexed but with a slight threatening tinge in his voice. It was evident that he was making a considerable effort not to attack me.
His self-control, which he intended to show without giving in, made me feel stronger. I knew that pride and knew what it was hiding.
"Yes. Admit it: how long have you been out? Two days? A week?"
"Out of what?" He asked dryly, not without notable effort, even though I knew he already knew the answer.
"Out of jail, of course. I can recognize a person just released from prison having a hard time adapting to social conventions. "
For a moment he opened his mouth wide in amazement. He certainly wasn't used to hearing himself talk like that, but he was too together to blow up that perfect man mask he wore in the presence of others.
"What makes you think I just got out of jail?" Lorenzo hissed, his eyes slit, and his jaw contracted.
"The way you look."
"The way I look," he repeated as calm as the quiet before the storm.
"Yup. In short, that hair hasn't seen a barber's scissors and a comb for some time," I upped the dose by pointing to his hair perfectly styled in a messy fashion yet retaining its elegance. "Even that small goatee makes you look like you have a past, a past that is reckless ... Not to mention the dark circles under your eyes, that reveal a lack of peaceful sleep, understandably so. I think it is difficult to sleep in a cell with a stranger who may have not so reassuring intentions. Unfortunately, there is still no effective legislation against sexual harassment between prisoners, so I totally understand."
"I think I understand what you mean," he stopped me, unable to listen to anything else coming out of my mouth. "And I'm sorry for you, but you're wrong. I've never been to jail. "
"Sometimes appearances are deceiving," I exclaimed with an evil smile and a shrug, repeating his own words.
"Touché," he whispered with a half-smile, understanding I was merely trying to get back at him for having been mistaken for an escort.
"Let me at least offer you a drink," he tried to apologize when I started to leave. I looked him in the face and his defiant expression, which spelled "This is not the end of this" alarmed me.
"I don't accept gifts from strangers," I stopped him immediately, putting a bill on the counter that covered the cost of the Bellini and left the barman with a generous tip.
"I was convinced it wasn't necessary but ... ok, let me introduce myself. I'm Lorenzo Orlando, the owner of the Bridge ", he said, holding out his hand.
I looked at that tempting hand and my heart pounded.
The idea of touching him led me to think of doing something forbidden and punishable in the worst way.
Ginevra, you are playing with fire!
All the bravery I felt before left me as quickly as it had come.
"I swear I won't bite," he whispered, noting my hesitation in shaking his hand.
"Mia, where did you go?" Maya exclaimed, catching me by surprise. I hadn't seen her approach and I wasn't expecting her arm around my shoulders.
I looked at her briefly and realized that she had come to my rescue.
"Mia," repeated Lorenzo thoughtfully.
"Yes, Mia Madison and I am Chelsea Faye. It's a pleasure. Your venue is beautiful. Congratulations! " Maya intervened, shaking Lorenzo's hand in my place, and placing herself between me and him, as if trying to defend me.
"Thank you," he replied with a fake smile, intended to hide the irritation that interruption had caused. "Is this your first time in my club?"
"Yes. We are just passing through Rockart City. Wow! Look at the time! We have to go now, but I hope to have the chance to come back soon, "Maya apologized cheerfully. She was the only one to seem so spontaneous and happy, even when the situation was tense.
"See you soon, then," the man replied politely, looking at me for the last time before leaving.
I barely nodded my head to say goodbye.
"What the hell was going on?" Snapped Maya when we were alone.
"Nothing," I murmured in a whisper, unable to imagine what could have happened.
"When I saw you with him, I felt like I was going crazy. I dragged you here to have fun, not to get yourself killed, "she said agitatedly, grabbing the still untouched Bellini and drinking it in a few sips to calm her agitation. "Come on, let's go! I told Lucky that you have a curfew and that I have to take you home before two in the morning, "she said, taking my arm and dragging me towards the exit.
"Miss, excuse me," a receptionist stood before me, handing me a black card with the golden writing "The Bridge. Orlando's Night "on it. "Mr. Orlando asked me to give you one of our complimentary passes, as an apology for the misunderstanding between you two. Mr. Orlando cares about his customers and wants to make sure that they are satisfied with the service received. This pass will allow you to have a privileged entrance and a free drink for you and your guests. "
"It is not necessary but thank the owner for the kind thought and tell him that I have already forgotten our misunderstanding," I replied gently, blushing with that foresight.
Lorenzo Orlando, would you have offered me a pass or a one-way ticket to hell, if you had known that I am the daughter of boss Edoardo Rinaldi?
"Please," he pleaded, shocked by my refusal. He didn't know that I could never bring such a card home if I didn't want to risk the death penalty from my father.
"Thanks for the pass!" Interjected Lucky, taking the card in my place. "Mia, are you crazy? Do you know how much these passes cost? "
"Do you want to antagonize the Orlando family?" Mike said.
"No, I ..." I mumbled uncomfortably, but Maya took me by the arm and led me out of the club, towards the parking lot.
"Let's go home," Maya sighed in relief after a hurried goodbye to the two boys.
We got into the car.
We drove on the bridge of the Safe River and, to my surprise, I noticed that my heart was still pounding since we had crossed the bridge the first time.
It was as if that evening had left me in an overwhelming and powerful state, I could not get rid of.