/Nicholas/
You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire
Ти дивишся на мене, і я, крихітко, уже палаю.
In the sprawling, noisy bar where there’s always room for revelry and mischief, I had a meeting scheduled with Theo. We were supposed to discuss the company’s affairs. And those affairs were going south fast: the branch vice president’s disappearance, a sudden audit, and accusations of money laundering. You’d think issues like these would be tackled in a quiet, discreet setting, but my best friend and head of security, Theodore Mills, had other ideas. And honestly, I loved his suggestion. It was the perfect chance to mix business with pleasure. I figured the biggest issue on the table— Yuri Mikhailovich’s vanishing act—wouldn’t be resolved tonight anyway, and the organizational matters wouldn’t take long. We’d easily be able to dive into Moscow’s nightlife afterward.
I’d been itching to hit a club for ages, but Theo always had an excuse: too much work, too tired, not in the mood. In short, endless cop-outs. Ever since Clara dumped him, he’s been off the rails. His behavior’s been erratic—one minute he’s shutting everyone out, refusing help from friends, staying silent, and dodging questions about his “broken heart”; the next, he’s spiraling, hitting bars solo and flirting with girls like he couldn’t care less. But I know better. I know he’s not indifferent to love and all that mushy stuff. Despite being a military man and the sharpest shooter I’ve ever met, Theodore is a softie at heart, a sensitive soul. Men like him are rare—you’d be hard-pressed to find another like him on the first try. He’s got it all: brains, valor, honor, rugged good looks, a kind heart, and a wicked sense of humor. Women flock to him, and yet—this idiot—chose Clara. “It’s love!” he’d told me, flashing the engagement ring he planned to give her. “That’s nonsense, my friend! Love doesn’t exist! It’s an illusion, a trick of the mind!” I’d countered, trying to talk some sense into him, but I failed. Or maybe I didn’t try hard enough. I saw how happy he was, and deep down, I was genuinely thrilled for my buddy.
I arrived at the club a bit late, rolling in after ten. Inside, it was loud and stuffy. The place was packed with people, many of whom weren’t exactly sober or sane. Some were downing cocktails and other drinks at the tables, while others jerked around on the dance floor like they were being zapped by a taser every second. From the sidelines, it looked ridiculous and absurd, but based on my limited knowledge of modern youth nightlife, this was perfectly normal.
Pushing through the crowd, I scanned for Theo when, out of nowhere, my gaze landed on an otherworldly beauty. A fire of desire ignited in my eyes, and a sweet longing spread through my chest. No, I’d be lying if I said it was a tender, delicate feeling. Not at all. It was a raw, primal urge—to possess the body of this blonde angel. Her light, fluid movements stoked something in me, an uncontrollable need to touch her skin. Her hips swayed side to side like a small boat gliding over waves, beckoning me closer, stirring desire. Her timid hand gestures, shifting at her whim, seemed to call out to me, begging to be touched. I wanted to grab those delicate, fragile wrists, pin them above her head, trap her stunning, sensual frame, and devour her bright red lips with a kiss. That shade of lipstick has always been provocative, driving men wild. And I was no exception. Red lipstick was like a signal to me—a sign of a woman who’s confident, free, and ready for adventure. And I wouldn’t mind if she left traces of it on my skin. Not at all.
Tearing my hungry gaze away from the captivating blonde, I finally spotted Theodore and headed toward the VIP tables. My friend was lounging on a leather couch, sprawled out casually, sipping whiskey with a calm air. His eyes were fixed on the dance floor. Whether he was just staring absentmindedly or already scoping out his next conquest for the night, I couldn’t tell. Sitting down beside him, I followed his gaze and, with a sharp exhale, declared:
“Don’t even think about it. That blonde is mine!” I grabbed the bottle of liquor from the table and poured myself a glass. Ignoring my words, Theo responded:
“Good to see you, man! How was the trip?” He turned his head toward me, looking oddly content. His eyes gleamed suspiciously, and a satisfied smirk played on his lips.
“Don’t change the subject, my friend. The blonde is mine, as I said.” I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip. Then another, and a third, only setting it aside once I’d savored the whiskey’s burn. “So, what did you dig up on Mikhailovich?” I asked, noticing he was still radiating happiness as he ogled the curvy women on the dance floor.
“No-thing. I haven’t found him,” Theo drawled. “But I’ll keep looking. I’ve got a feeling someone else is behind this. There’s just too much airtight evidence against Mikhailovich.”
“You think he was framed?” The thought had crossed my mind too. “But who would do that?”
“Don’t know. Not yet,” Theo said, setting his glass on the table in front of us. Then he pulled a folder from under the table and handed it to me. “Take a look.” With that, he turned back to the dance floor, continuing to admire the women moving enchantingly to the beat.
Taking the folder from him, I opened it immediately and started scanning the contents. Flipping through page after page, I tried to grasp the meaning of the words and sentences, but my thoughts kept pulling me away from the information I needed to focus on. My mind kept drifting back to the image of that seductive woman. Her delicate features, those bright red lips, and the luxurious curls cascading over her shoulders—they flashed through my head over and over. “Damn it!” I cursed, slamming the folder shut and tossing it aside. “This isn’t working. I either need to get out of here and take a cold shower, or seduce that girl and quench this thirst!”
The first option was the sensible one; the second, far more tempting. But when it came to gorgeous, fiery women, my animal instincts always overpowered my reason. I wasn’t some sex-obsessed creep who pounced on every woman I met, but I did enjoy a good time with an attractive lady. And this beauty was exactly that.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I pictured her in my arms. I brushed a hand across her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin under my fingers. I leaned in closer, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. It filled my senses instantly, tickling not just my nose but igniting a fire of passion in my soul. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her to me. She trembled in my grasp but didn’t resist. With a soft sigh, she leaned forward, placing her hands around my neck, pressing her delicate frame even tighter against me. I could hear her little heart pounding and her ragged breaths. The realization that I stirred the same wild emotions in her as she did in me pushed me to take the lead and cross the line first. With my free hand, I brushed a strand of blonde hair from her face, tilted her chin up, and tasted her lips. The barest touch sent a tingling jolt through my chest and a tremor through my hands. Trying not to seem too overwhelmed or thrown off by these unfamiliar sensations, I tightened my hold on her. But instead of her graceful form, my fingers grasped nothing but air. I snapped my eyes open, searching for the vision I’d been lost in just moments ago. Yet all I saw was a wall. A brick wall, dark blue, with a sconce hanging on it. Just a wall. No dance floor, no noisy bar, no beautiful blonde angel.
My world came crashing down again. It was a dream. Just a dream. None of it was real. A figment of my imagination. “Damn it!”
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and exhaled sharply, trying to steady my breathing. My heart raced like a galloping horse, occasionally skipping a beat as if in a race. A dull hum lingered in my ears, and before my eyes was the most beloved, most precious face in the world. I knew I was awake, yet I still felt trapped in some kind of trance.
The vast black hole in my memory opened up, spitting out a fragment of my past, once again fooling me into mistaking a delusion for reality. And I fell for it, yet again. I was back there. In my favorite place, and in my personal nightmare. Yes, these memories now carry a bittersweet taste.
Ever since Thomas told me the truth and I started remembering Sasha, my memory has been returning bit by bit. It’s a slow, somewhat draining process, but there’s progress—my memory is finally speaking to me. It keeps throwing “new-old” memories at me, but in a strange, unfamiliar form—always in dreams. The moment I doze off, another dream is right there waiting.
Musical Theme: Lady Gaga - Always Remember Us This Way
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1godKRBeZc