2 The Party

It had been days since Mark last spoke of his father's company or had to worry about it. He had been indoors for a while now since most of his works were done online without needing him to withdraw from his place of comfort. He needed a short break to take his mind off work, maybe a vacation. He was sure of that. His body needed that urge to get high and waste away from the stress it had been through. That was when he had this craving to go to a nightclub. "Alone, of course!" He reached for his phone; he was thinking of dialing a number when he had a second thought about it. He insisted that he sent a text instead. His fingers danced on the keyboards, and with a single click, his message was delivered. He didn't care if Lana saw it; that was not his first time doing such. He had gotten used to texting her whenever he needed to take a break from work, and she was his perfect companion for such scenarios. Although he was dating her, he had never made it clear to people that he was serious about her. In the message, he had also informed her of the time her ride would arrive. "Be ready on time!" That was the last text. *** The car came to a halt, and Lana stepped out onto the bustling street. The driver, a kind older gentleman, drove away when he closed the door and returned to the car. Maybe he would inform Mark that she had arrived, or maybe Mark already knew, and there was no time for that. He was a different driver from the one who had picked her up the last time he wanted to take a break from being the CEO of a company to becoming a club playboy. She wondered what happened to the other driver. But she didn't give it much thought; she knew how wealthy his family was, so it was possible the other driver was not available. "Stay close, please…" she said, and then he drove away. She always liked the driver that picked her up to be around in case she needed to get back home during an emergency. The bar's neon lights illuminated the cold night, beckoning Lana with their vibrant glow. Laughter and music spilled out from within, mingling with the excited chatter of people. She pushed open the door and entered, feeling a rush of warmth enveloping her. Outside was cold, making her almost regret what she was putting on. Her outfit was a simple yet elegant one that accentuated her feminine figure. A crop top and a skirt that ended higher up her knees, revealing a hint of her legs. No wonder a lot of men stared at her. She wondered if Mark would be happy with many men staring at his girl. She knew how possessive he was to her, or maybe he would like every man to envy him for being around a feminine body capable of making them lose control. It was nice to be alone, but she was at a club, so her body reminded her of the pleasures she had denied for so long; what could that be… The air buzzed with energy, alive with the sound of youthful exuberance. The room was filled with many people, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of dim lights. The scent of fruity drinks and the intoxicating smell of beer created an unusual sensation. Lana navigated the crowd, navigating around groups of friends engaged in animated conversations. The bar counter stretched before her, adorned with glasses clinking together and the bartenders skillfully mixing drinks. The wooden stools lined up in perfect symmetry, inviting guests to take a seat and indulge in the excitement of the night. Yet again, he was late. She looked for him everywhere until she got tired of looking. She glanced around as she found an empty spot at the counter, taking in the details of the bar's decor. The bartender, a friendly young man with a welcoming smile, approached her. He wore a crisp white shirt; his sleeves rolled up casually. The colorful bottles behind him sparkled in the soft lighting, captivating my attention. His nimble hands moved with practiced ease as he prepared drinks, his movements akin to a well-rehearsed dance. Lana ordered a simple soda, feeling the cool condensation of the glass against her fingertips as he placed it before her. She wasn't in the mood to get high, especially when her boyfriend had invited her out but didn't show up. The looks of some faces asking themselves why anyone would go for soft drinks at a nightclub got her thinking about it, too. The fizzy bubbles of the drink rose to the surface, creating a symphony of effervescence. She lifted the glass to her lips, savoring the refreshing sweetness as it danced on her tongue. The bar's ambiance was lively yet cozy. The low hum of conversations, followed by occasional laughter, created a cheerful symphony. The music, a blend of upbeat melodies and catchy rhythms, flowed from the speakers, inviting feet to tap and bodies to sway. She glanced around, observing the diverse crowd that surrounded her. Young teenagers, their faces lit up with excitement, huddled together in youthful conversations. Some wore trendy attire, while others wore casual jeans and t-shirts. Amidst the people at the counter, her eyes caught a glimpse of him, a man, observing her from far away with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. That very familiar stare. Was he trying to remake their first meeting incident? The air grew heavy as his gaze roamed over her form, his eyes lingering too long on the curves of her silhouette. Determined to maintain her composure, she met his gaze defiantly, refusing to acknowledge his inappropriate interest. He, however, seemed not to be bothered by her show of arrogance, as usual. With measured steps, he approached her, his confidence visible in his every move. Her heart quickened, bracing itself for a battle of wits and charm. He tapped the man who was next to her. "Move!" He ordered, picking out some bundles of money from his wallet and handing it over. The man smiled as he immediately left the spot. It wasn't necessary to showcase his money, though. "I'm Mark, by the way. How-" He attempted to sit but hung on to the air. "I didn't ask you to sit." She cut in, "A gentleman would have asked for permission." Just as she thought, he was trying to remake the outcome of their first encounter. She was going to play along too. Mark raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her interruption. His lips curled into a playful smirk as he adjusted his stance, still suspended in mid-air. "You're right; manners matter," he replied, commanding amusement. "Consider it a lesson learned." Lana felt a bit irritated and uncomfortable. Something was captivating about his confidence and calm demeanor. His dark, tousled hair fell effortlessly, framing a face that seemed chiseled by an artist's hand. A strong jawline, hinting at determination, led to lips that curved into a mischievous smile, exuding a charm that was hard to resist. But it was his eyes that held the true enchantment. They were like two pools of sparkling hazel, glinting with intelligence and playfulness. They seemed to hold a secret. She smiled at him. He was, after all, so charming. She couldn't deny that even if she wanted to.