Chapter 35: Not fine

Fabio’s POV

The music was way too loud for my liking. The heavy bass vibrated through the floorboards and rattled the glass in my hand. But I endured it. I leaned against the bar counter, ignoring the sweating bodies dancing behind me, and continued sipping my drink in silence.

Just then, someone walked over through the crowd and stood directly beside me.

"I’ll have what he’s having," the man said to the bartender. Then, he turned his head to look at me. "Hi."

I glanced to my side, taking him in. He was smiling. He had oceanic blue eyes that were full of a sweet vibe, yet they were not entirely innocent. It was exactly the kind of look I usually liked.

"Hi," I greeted back, flashing him a brief, smile.

The man leaned closer, letting his elbow brush casually against mine on the counter. "I’m Nico. What’s your name?"

I caught the scent of his cologne as he moved. It smelled quite nice. Expensive, but subtle. "Fabio."

The bartender returned and handed Nico his drink. Nico took the glass, stretched his arm toward me, and held it up. "Cheers to knowing you... Fabio."

I liked the way he said it. He deliberately dragged my name out, speaking it slowly and sweetly, almost as if he were moaning it.

We clinked our glasses together. Nico took a sip and immediately began making small talk. He talked about the city, the club, the drinks. I barely listened. I only nodded once in a while, letting my eyes drop to his mouth, then back up to his blue eyes.

Once my glass was empty, I set it down on the counter. I was done, ready to leave. I turned my body slightly, and Nico immediately caught my wrist.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "Want me to show you something in private?"

I did not need an adult dictionary to understand his intentions.

Minutes later, we were outside. The cold night air hit my face, a sharp contrast to the heat inside the club, as we walked toward the empty parking lot. The moment we were completely out of sight, tucked between the concrete pillars of the structure, I moved.

I caught Nico by the waist, my grip tight, and forcefully pulled him flush against my body. He gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, but a pleased smile quickly spread across his face.

I didn’t smile back. I pushed him backward, walking him forcefully across the pavement until his back slammed hard against one of the concrete poles. Before he could react, I raised my hand and gripped him by the throat. I squeezed, pinning him entirely in place. His lips parted lightly, his chest rising as his breathing hitched.

I loved the visual. But it wasn’t enough.

"Say my name," I demanded, leaning in and applying just a little more pressure to his throat.

Nico panicked slightly. His hands came up, grasping at my wrist, his fingers slipping against my skin as he tried to pull my hand away.

"Fabio..." he managed to say. His voice was choked, high-pitched, and completely unfamiliar. "I can’t... breathe."

That was it. The sound of his voice made something inside me snap.

It was wrong. The pitch was wrong. The fear in his eyes was wrong. Marco would never look at me like that. Marco would have fought back, or he would have looked at me with those defiant, dark eyes that drove me crazy. This man was not him.

I pulled my hand back immediately, dropping my grip as if his skin burned me. Nico coughed, rubbing his neck, looking at me in total confusion.

Without a single word, I turned around and walked away. I left him standing right there against the pole and headed straight for my car.

I got inside, slammed the heavy door shut, and gripped the steering wheel. I didn’t turn the key. I didn’t drive off.

"Fuck shit!" I yelled, slamming my palm against the leather of the steering wheel.

I did not like anything that just happened back there. Not even the man either. Not at all. It wasn’t because he was lacking in looks or willingness. He was fine. But he was not Marco.

"Bloody hell," I muttered, my voice dropping low in the quiet cabin of the car. I could hear the sheer patheticness bleeding into my own words. "What am I fucking doing?"

An image of Marco- sweating, glaring, breathing heavily under me and above me- flashed so vividly in my head that it felt like a physical blow. I punched the steering wheel again, harder this time. I did not want to think about it. I did not want to think about him. But there was absolutely no way of stopping it.

I let my head fall back against the leather headrest, my chest rising and falling as I breathed heavily in the dark. For a long time, I remained completely unmoving. I tried to force every image of his face away. I tried to push the memory of his voice out of my ears. I tried to scrub the phantom feeling of his skin from my fingertips.

It was impossible.

Finally, defeated, I reached into my pocket, took out my phone, and scrolled to a specific number. I pressed dial.

It rang twice before it connected.

"Hey, buddy," I called out, forcing my voice to sound level. "Have you spoken to Tony lately?"

Ethan’s voice came through the speaker, laced with immediate suspicion and amusement. "Yes. Why? You wanna hook up with him because his friend abandoned you?"

"Shut up," I said, my voice dropping into a lazy whisper. "Did he perhaps mention... where his friend is?"

Ethan hummed into the receiver, clearly enjoying the fact that I was asking. "Yes. He did."

I closed my eyes, keeping my breathing calm. "Where?"

Ethan went completely silent for a moment. He was calculating his leverage. "If I tell you, you tell me where Alessia is."

I didn’t even hesitate. My sister was perfectly fine, and I needed an answer right now. "She went back to Sicily to visit our parents. Now tell me."

"Really? Wow."

I frowned, opening my eyes to stare at the dark dashboard. "What?"

"Guess what?" Ethan said, the smugness practically dripping from his words. "Your lover boy also moved to Sicily. I think it’s high time we go back home, Fabio."