Are you okay?

JASMINE'S POV

"Do you think he's gonna break up with me?" My voice breaks into another sob, and tears flood down my eyes anew.

Amelia, my foster sister, and best friend, pulls me into her arms, caressing my back. "I told you already, he won't. This is just another fight and soon, it'll be forgotten. Like all other fights you both have."

"Sure, but do other couples fight as much as Chad and I do? Before, it was once a month. Then it became once every week. But now, it's every day. And I can't help but feel he doesn't love me anymore…"

"Of course, he does. Why would you say that?"

"Because I can't help but feel he doesn't love me anymore. Am I ugly? Did I stop being beautiful?"

It's insane that I'm questioning my facial features as they are the best attributes I've got. And the attention from men that I get comes mainly because of my pretty face.

But Chad makes me feel rather ugly. It's like nothing about me fascinates him anymore. He makes me question my worth, and that stuff is killing me slowly. I can't take it anymore. I don't understand how we became such a sad couple. We used to be doting and happy. What the hell changed?

"You're a very beautiful woman, and you know that. So stop saying such nonsense and have a drink. Here." She passes me a glass of martini.

"I don't think drinking is gonna make me feel better." Even my wolf objects to me drinking, because I end up doing pretty stupid things. "Maybe we should just leave…"

"No, Jasmine. We're staying, c'mon." Amelia stops me from getting up. "You wanna leave and go do what? Go beg his egotist ass?"

"If that's gonna help."

"Stop being so easy. That's why he keeps making you cry. Just for tonight, play a little hard to get. Starve him of your attention. Stay here, let's have fun."

"I don't know…" I'm a little skeptical about staying here and drinking. But she's somewhat right. Whenever Chad and I have a fight, I'm always the one begging. Just for today, he should do the begging. I just hope I mean enough for him to come beg me.

"You're right. Let's drink and have fun." I agree with a smile. Amelia shrieks happily, and even more as I gulp down the glass of Martini.

She pours me another drink and another and another. The fifth one makes my eyes twirl crazily and I let out a wild belch.

Amelia laughs heartily, pinning for me to have my sixth drink. But I can't. Not when I'm beginning to feel badly weird.

"Amelia…I don't…I don't feel too well." My wolf seems to have gotten insanely hyped and my hormones have kicked up too.

I feel weirdly wet down my panties and I'm literally sniffing up the scent of every aroused guy in this nightclub. There's an insane need to grab one of the guys and force him to make out with me. Just to chill the burn in my system.

It's weird. It's unexplainable. Just a few minutes ago, I was too sad and the last thing on my mind was hooking up with a guy.

But right now, the dangerous thought lingers in my mind and I can't get it off.

"I wanna use the restroom. Be right back." Amelia says, as she stands, grabs her purse, and walks away.

I rest my thumping head on the bar counter. It doesn't help that I'm feeling highly tipsy. The music changes to a crazy pop beat and I find myself staggering off my stool.

Losing myself to the music and not having a great dose of my sanity, I end up rocking a stripper pole. The insane need to end the twitching in my panties makes me rub my inner thighs against the pole.

It's the most scandalous thing I've ever done but the loud cheering I get makes me continue. Making it more and more erotic with each step I take.

After a while, the thumping in my head worsens and I get off the pole. My unsteady steps lead me up the stairs in my desperate need to find Amelia.

There's a more madding crowd on that floor and with the smell of their sweaty bodies comes the stench of weed and sex.

It almost drives me nuts and I find myself taking a path that ushers me into a hallway. A quiet hallway. Surprisingly, there's a quiet area in this madhouse.

I stagger further unsure of where I'm headed. But rough hands grab my waist from behind. I gasp, turning to see a bald man, dressed in a black suit with a creepy smile. He reeks of alcohol and weed and his hold on me is smoldering. And his accent has a deep, nauseating Italian feel.

"Come to Daddy. I'll give you a more pleasurable night." He says with a grin and tries to slide his hand under my dress.

"Let go of me!" I shriek but his hold is too strong. He hits my back against the wall. I cry out in pain. "Please, stop it!"

"Let her go, now!" A strong and deep voice bellows, bringing the bald man to a halt. He lets me go and I fall to the ground, curling up in fear.

The man who just saved me swings a fist at him and it hits right on his face. The bald man staggers at the impact. When he regains his stance, he barks out a lot of words in a language I suppose is Italian.

The man who saved me growls back in the same language, pointing at the exit. It's like he's asking the bald man to get lost. He has a terrifying dominating stance that subdues the bald man.

I can't watch anymore as my head pounds harder from all the shouting. I look down, burying my face between my legs, sobbing quietly.

A fresh, arousing scent hits my nostrils and then I slowly look up. The man is squatting in front of me. Handsome as hell. With sexy broad shoulders. An oval-shaped face that looks very Italian. Strong jawline. Full lips. Full brows. A long black hair in a sleek bun. A well-tailored black suit that emits sexiness at some dangerous level. A mesmerizing smile.

It's hard to breathe with him so close.

"Are you okay, baby girl?" His deep voice reverberates in the hallway.

I go mute, staring at him. Wondering how possible it is for him to be a million times more handsome than Chad.

"Did he hit you?" He asks again, caressing my face with his thumb. His tone is rather too soft, a contrast to his rugged and manly features.

"No," I finally find my voice.

"That's a relief. Can you walk?" He sounds very American for a guy who yelled out Italian language a few minutes ago.

"Yes…" I'm still in a daze.

"Nevermind. I'll carry you." He pulls me up bridal style into his arms like I weigh nothing.

I can't get enough of his scent and I find myself sniffing him up shamelessly. Until my back hits a bed and I gasp.

Only then did I realize he'd taken me into some kind of suite with exotic and lavishly luxurious decor.

He sits beside me, still offering a very mesmerizing smile. But his dark eyes are burning with a terrifying but exciting sensation. Gets me wetter in my panties.

"I gotta say this. That dance you did back there was insanely sexy. Don't do that again. Or you're gonna get more than one horny bastard chasing after you in the hallway."

Huh? He was watching? Why? I mean, yeah…why?

"What's your name, baby girl?" His smile dries up a bit, morphing into a serious look.

"Uh…Jasmine." I mumble.

He bites his lower lip and repeats. "Jasmine." The deep huskiness he says my name with is fucking arousing. "I'm Michelangelo."

Michelangelo? That's a weird but strong name.

His broad hand lifts from the bed, and comes to my face, caressing it. Then he runs his thumb on my lips in a way that makes me nurse a moan.

"I thought you were all in my head. Feels good to know you really exist."

"Huh?" What's he talking about? And why do I wanna just throw myself at him? His scent is killing me.

"Can I have a taste of your lips? I've been fantasizing what they're gonna taste like."

Just what I need to hear. Just what my body is craving for. And with no second thought, I nod. He smashes his lips on mine, sending my whole body ablaze.