DEVescori Lounge
The sun was high in the sky by the time I arrived in Milan.
The train screeched to a halt with a loud hoot, and passengers spilled out with their luggage, each one seemingly with more direction than me.
Mine was just a single box.
I hailed a cab and handed the driver a crumpled slip of paper with the motel address. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could afford.
The cash I had would barely cover two weeks of rent—if I skipped meals.
The air here was different. Not good. Not bad. Just… strange. Like it knew I didn’t belong.
We finally pulled up to the motel.
It was the kind of place where paint peeled like dead skin from the walls and rust clung to the metal railings like a warning.
Years ago, I wouldn’t have even spared it a glance. Now, it was all I had.
I paid the driver and stepped out, rolling my box behind me. Inside, I was met with the unimpressed face of the receptionist—chewing gum like it owed her money.
She didn’t recognize me, thankfully. If she had, I’m sure her snobbery would’ve gone from passive to aggressive in seconds.
I took the key and left without a word.
I climbed the creaky stairs, walked through a dim hallway, and stopped in front of my room. The numbers were faded, but the key fit. That was enough.
The room wasn’t awful. There was a ceiling fan that worked, a bed that didn’t look like a death sentence, and at least it was clean.
I sighed and kicked off my shoes, sinking onto the mattress.
I had no phone, no way to tell Emma I’d made it safely.
I needed a job. Fast.
After unpacking my small box into the creaky wardrobe, I took a quick shower and changed into one of the few nice outfits I had left—remnants from a past life I’d had to sell piece by piece.
I pulled my voluminous curls into a large bun and stepped out.
I didn’t know where to begin. Milan was big, loud, and fast. I felt small in it. Invisible.
I wandered for hours, asking around, checking boards, even scanning windows for “help wanted” signs. Nothing. No luck. No hope.
By sunset, I was starving and exhausted. I found a park bench and collapsed onto it, dragging in a shaky breath.
The feeling of struggling was foreign to me. It was a face I’d worn long ago and never thought I’d wear again.
Being a celebrity had been great. I had everything: money, fame, power. But it all vanished—snatched away at the cost of loving the wrong person.
Tears threatened to spill, burning at the corners of my eyes. But I refused to let them fall. I had to be strong. I didn’t come here to cry.
“Hi.”
The voice was soft and chirpy. I looked up to see a woman with shiny blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile too warm for a stranger.
I forced a small smile.
“I’m Carly,” she offered.
“Alice,” I murmured, hesitant, unsure if I should’ve lied about my name.
“Alice.” She called slowly with nod, as if testing the name.
I didn’t continue with the conversation, simply because I didn’t know what to say neither was I in the mood for chit chatting.
“You look… lost. And sad.”
I sighed, debating how much to share. Maybe she could help. Or maybe she’d turn on me like the rest of the world.
“I just got here. I’m looking for a job,” I admitted.
She smiled and gently placed a hand on mine.
“I can help.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
She nodded. “There’s a bar I used to work at. They’re looking for a new bartender—last one just left. And if you’re talented—singing, playing instruments, painting, even pottery—they sometimes hire for… special purposes.”
“Special purposes?” I repeated, unsure if I liked the sound of that.
She laughed it off and stood. “Come see for yourself.”
Then she gave me a pointed look. “And honey, next time, research a city before moving in.”
Her words unsettled me. She noticed and gave a casual wave, brushing it off. Then she slipped something from her pocket—a flyer.
“I’ll see you later, Alice.”
She walked away, leaving me with my racing thoughts and the buzz of the park.
I looked down at the flyer.
“The Talent Hunt”
The words were bold and striking. A beautifully crafted design meant to lure. But something about the red, black, and gold color scheme felt… wrong.
At the bottom was the name of the club:
Blood & Bourbon | DeVescori Lounge
Blood. That word alone twisted in my stomach.
But I needed a job. And maybe, just maybe, I’d find my voice again in that place. Even if it meant stepping into something I didn’t yet understand.
Later that night, I found myself wrapped in a trench coat, walking beneath the mercy of the moonlight.
The path to DeVescori Lounge was eerily empty. The city, once buzzing with life when I arrived, had gone quiet, too quiet.
I could count the number of people I’d seen and the few cars that passed by. Something felt off—like there was an unspoken curfew no one told me about.
There was no one around to ask for directions, but thankfully, I’d made some inquiries earlier and scoped out the place from a distance.
Still, as I walked through the unfamiliar streets, uncertainty gripped me.
Eventually, I arrived.
If it weren’t for the bleeding disco lights slipping through darkened windows and the luxurious cars lined up outside, I’d have thought the place was abandoned. There was no sound of music.
Is this truly a club? I wondered.
I took a steadying breath and approached the door. Two bouncers stood guard, their faces obscured by black balaclava masks, revealing only their eyes and mouths.
“I’m here for the interview,” I said quietly, my voice barely carrying over the pounding in my chest.
They exchanged a silent glance before stepping aside and letting me in.
The moment I crossed the threshold, a heavy mix of expensive cologne, cigarette smoke, and sweat enveloped me. The club wasn’t crowded, but the few people inside exuded a presence that felt overwhelming, like the air bent around them.
All men.
My stomach sank. Had Carly tricked me?
Panic clawed at my chest. I took a step back, ready to turn and run…….
Then a strong arm wrapped firmly around my waist.
“Where are you going, bellissima?”
The voice was the deepest bass I’d ever heard, yet smooth as silk. His cologne overpowered everything else—rich, dark, and intoxicating.
For a heartbeat, I wanted to melt into the warmth of him.
Then reality snapped me back.
He was a stranger. And he could be anything: A trafficker, a killer or a monster behind a beautiful voice.
My instincts screamed to escape, but my body was frozen.