Walking into the loud den of the nightclub, the pounding music made it
nearly impossible to hear what Marie was saying. “What?” I yelled
for her to repeat herself.
“I said the rapper, Crank, is performing here tonight!” She shouted,
holding up a yellow flier for me to read.
I raised my eyebrows in question, wondering who in the hell Crank was.
Marie gave me her patented look of disgust mixed with pity. She always
expressed disbelief over my cluelessness where the latest rapper or
pop-star were concerned. We are of the same age; Marie being a year
older, but our tastes in music couldn’t be more different. Marie loved
rap and hip-hop, while I believed much of today’s stuff to be pure
Marie quickly dismissed me as being rapper ignorant, and we continued
towards the crowd just ahead.
Having become a mother at a young age, I never really got into the whole
club scene like Marie and some of my other friends. However, the few
that I did go to over the years, looked absolutely nothing like this
one. This club made all the others look like hole-in-the walls.
Perhaps all South Beach clubs looked this way, but it was impressive,
with its theme of blue, white, and shiny chrome. The upholstered sofas
and chairs were of a midnight blue; as well as the carpeted floor, and
the tables were all white-topped with chrome bases. The walls were
towering and mirrored, and ginormous chandeliers hung from its high
ceilings. However, the showstopper was a towering wall of rock that was
perhaps thirty feet in height; and featured a waterfall with mist rising
from its blue glowing base. I found it mesmerizing; I’d never seen
anything like it.
We followed Lauren over to a small group of men standing close to the
bar; where she hugged the one I assumed to be her friend, Austin.
Introductions are made all around, but when I go to shake hands with one
of the men, he held onto my offered hand longer than necessary. The man,
Mike, just stood checking me out, eyes raking my body, and instantly
rubbing me the wrong way.
His scrutiny made me feel under-dressed, and also in desperate need of a
Admittedly, my jade-green strapless dress was a bit more revealing than
I’d typically wear; its briefness displaying a lot of golden skin.
But, it was no different than what most of the women here were wearing.
Not so discreetly, I pulled my hand back from the douche-bag’s.
He’s attractive, I guess, in an exotic sort of way. His skin was
caramel hued; grayish eyes slanted, dark hair short, and a patch of dark
hair lined his chin. However, and to my estimation, he could afford to
gain fifteen to twenty pounds, and he was on the shorter side. I don’t
like short nor scrawny men, so both would be deal breakers for me. Were
I available, of course.
I immediately dismissed the douche, giving him my back as I turned to
talk with Marie.
“Looks like you’ve got a bidder,” she teased, wearing a silly
“Hardly,” I returned with a roll of my eyes.
I didn’t begrudge a man his look of appreciation, but I found the act
of being overtly eye-fucked, uncouth and disrespectful. The douche-bag
was obviously a short, scrawny, sleaze-ball.
Unfortunately, the douche’s interest didn’t wane. I kept receiving
looks that I pointedly tried to ignore. However, when I angled my body
to better face Marie—unwittingly causing my already short dress to
rise even higher on my thigh, the douche obviously took that as a divine
sign. A couple of minutes later, he made his way over to ask if I’d
like another drink. I politely declined
“Come on, that’s no way to celebrate!” he exclaimed.
“Celebrate what?” I asked, being intentionally dense. I wished him
“My man’s birthday!” he shouted, pointing towards Austin.
I’d noticed his penchant for using punctuated exclamations at the end
of every sentence.
“That means he should be celebrating with an over consumption of
alcohol, not me,” I said with a raised brow.
“That’s not how it works, we celebrate by drinking with him!” he
exclaimed once more.
He seriously needed to bring it down a notch.
“I’m not yet ready for another drink, but, thank you,” I said
politely, proud of my own good manners.
He ignored my good manners when the server came by, instead ordering
another round of drinks for both Marie and me. I just gave a small smile
in acceptance, because it seemed simplest. Persistence was a quality I
normally found attractive in a man. However, douche-bag seemed the sort
to buy a girl a drink, then believe it his right to hang onto her for
the rest of the night.
With two lemon-drop martinis having already been consumed, fifteen
minutes later, I’m totally game when Marie asked me to go out onto the
dance floor with her. I moved to the beat of the music as we made our
way over; arms thrown in the air, and hips swaying to ‘Drake’
blasting through the speakers. Marie was the better dancer, so I had
some fun mimicking her moves, while making silly duck faces at her.
I’m feeling happy and in my own little zone, when I feel a body move
up-close behind me.
Darting a look over my shoulder, I see that the Douche had come onto the
dance floor and invited himself to dance with me.
In my happy-state, I simply moved a few steps forward, and tried to
ignore him. However, I startled a moment later when I felt a hand grip
my waist, and a hot body press against mine. I instantly placed my hands
over his to try and pry them from my body, but he only tightened his
grip. The jerk pressed against my ass, making me want to vomit!
"Let go!” I yelled in disgust, pitching my voice to be heard above the
But, whether he’d heard or not, he didn’t loosen his hold.
What in the hell is his problem? I’d given every sign of disinterest.
Digging my nails into the skin of his hand, I tried inflicting pain, but
that didn’t seem to work. My annoyance quickly turned into alarm. I
didn’t want any man holding me against my will, especially one I’d
met only thirty minutes ago.
I started to struggle in earnest, trying to get Marie’s attention, and
trying to get the asshole off of me. But Marie’s back was turned with
her attention focused on the guy she was dancing with; oblivious to what
In my struggle, she got lost in the crowd, and I quickly lose sight of
her. I glanced about frantically—trying to catch a glimpse of her, and
my gaze locked with a pair of dark eyes instead.
The eyes stared straight at me, seemingly rooting me to the spot,
because, I would swear that I’d suddenly stopped moving.
Then something weird happened. Like the pull of a magnet in slow motion,
everything else seemed to fade into the background as our eyes connected
for what seemed forever, but I knew was in reality only mere seconds.
The man stood leaning casually against a nearby wall, draped in all
black from head to toe, hands casually tucked into the front pockets of
But, our lightning quick moment grinded to a halt, when I was jarred
back to the reality of douche-bag damn near dry-humping me on the dance
The man in black is swiftly forgotten when the asshole plants his face
into the side of my neck. Ewe!
I lost my shit, throwing my head to the right in an attempt to dislodge
his face, and kicking my foot back to cause him pain. It just barely
grazed his leg.
I jabbed my elbow into whatever body part was closest—then hauled back
and slapped him square in the sweaty forehead with my right palm. Yuck!
I felt instant satisfaction, but he still didn’t budge.
On the verge of Stop, Drop and Roll as a last desperate resort, the
asshole finally lifted his face from my neck, but still didn’t let go.
Anyone looking at us would probably think we were just fooling around on
the dance floor; never suspecting I was being held against my will,
The douche-bag’s behavior screamed of him being a potential date
However, just when I thought my attempts at physical assault had been
futile, I felt him pull abruptly away, loosening his hold on me. I
didn’t waste a second taking advantage of my opportunity to move
quickly out of his reach. But, when I whipped around in anger to
confront him—intent on kicking him in the balls, I froze.
The man in black had him gripped by the collar of his shirt, in a
choke-hold by the looks of it.
The Douche sported a comical look of confusion that I registered, but
didn’t have the presence of mind to enjoy, because I could do nothing
more than stare.
Up close, the man in black was frigging gawk-worthy.
His dark gaze never left mine as he lowered his head to speak close to
douche-bag’s ear; the little shit being almost a head shorter. And
whatever he’d said must have had impact, causing the douche-bag’s
eyes to move quickly back to mine, a surprised look of fright on his
face. The man in black then loosened his grip on the fool’s shirt and
gave him a slight shove away, as though in disgust. But, the dumb-ass
stupidly turned to confront him, and got pinned with a hard look that
seemed to dare him to make a move.
Expecting a confrontation, I took a few nervous steps back.
The man in black stood wearing a menacing scowl, but with his arms
relaxed to his sides; stance suggesting he didn’t take the
douche-bagas a serious threat. He didn’t even blink as his lips moved,
saying something I couldn’t hear above the loud music, but something
that was obviously effective.
Douche-bag made a smart decision by backing slowly away; pivoting
towards me, then darting a quick look my way as he made haste leaving
the dance floor.
Excerpted from "Wreckless Engagement: The Russian Engagement Series" by K. Marie. Copyright © 2018 by K. Marie. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.