Use of Force

CHAPTER 77

After a solid twenty minutes of dancing, Lovett convinced Vottari that they should step outside for some air. Considering how welcoming she had been to all his advances on the dance floor, he was all for it.

They walked out onto a large terrace and headed for the round, outdoor bar.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“Whiskey sour,” she replied.

Once he got the attention of one of the bartenders, he ordered whiskey sours for both of them.

Vottari’s shirt was soaked through with sweat. Grabbing a few napkins off the bar, he wiped his face, then his armpits, and tossed the napkins on the ground.

“What hotel are you staying at?” he asked.

The question took her by surprise. She didn’t know any of the hotels in the area. “Airbnb,” she said. She had to lean in to be heard over the music being pumped through the speakers above the bar.

La Formícula took her movement as an invitation, and he put his hands on both her hips. “At my house, I have a swimming pool and a hot tub. You like hot tubs?”

“They’re okay,” she replied as the bartender arrived with their drinks. Vottari needed his hands to pull out his wallet to pay for them.

“Let’s go see the water,” she suggested, tilting her head toward one of the tables near the beach.

Vottari nodded and motioned for her to lead the way. She knew he hadn’t done it to be a gentleman and that he just wanted to check out her ass. The man was an absolute sleazebag.

The tables were counter-height with barstools and umbrellas made of palm fronds. Just as they arrived at the one she had picked out, he changed his mind.

“Where are you going?”

“This way,” he said, heading toward the cabanas out on the sand.

Shit, she thought. Inside a canvas tent, with no one else around was about the last place she wanted to be with this guy. But if she didn’t go with him, she might not get another chance to slip the Rohypnol into his drink. Reluctantly, she followed.

“Look how nice,” he said when they had arrived.

There was a loveseat, two additional chairs, and a small table with thick, white candles in hurricane lamps. It was quite lovely, and in almost any other circumstance, might have even been romantic.

There was a small Riservato sign on the table and Lovett pointed at it. “Reserved,” she said.

Vottari walked over, picked up the sign, and tossed it aside. “Not anymore. Come, sit,” he replied, leading her over to the loveseat.

When she joined him he raised his glass and clinked it against hers. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Lovett responded, taking a sip of her cocktail.

As soon as she began to lower the glass, he took it from her and set it next to his on the table. That was when he pounced.

He was quite strong for a man of his size. Pushing her backward on the loveseat, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her down as he buried his face between the tops of her breasts and then ran his tongue up the side of her neck.

Lovett struggled to get free. “Wait a second,” she said. “Stop.”

Vottari, though, wasn’t interested in hearing that word and kept going, nibbling her earlobe and then pushing his tongue inside.

“Stop!” she insisted, much more forcefully. This time, she got his attention.

“What is it?”

Over his shoulder, she could see their whiskey sours sitting on the table. Beyond was the entrance to the cabana. “What if someone sees us?”

Vottari smiled and bent down to kiss her. His overpowering cologne made her want to throw up. She turned her face to the side, frustrating him.

“Close the flaps,” she said softly.

“The what?”

“The door. Close the door. I don’t want anyone to see.”

Figuring he was in for a very good time, Vottari’s smiled widened. Lifting himself off her, he went to close the cabana’s flaps.

The moment he turned his back, Lovett sat up and shot her hand into her bra.

Damn it, she worried. Where are they?

She had placed the tablets in her bra, where she thought she could easily get to them. But with having had his hands, and even his face, all over her, they must have shifted.

Come on. Come on. Come on. She was starting to freak out. Where the hell were they?

Just then, she felt the first tablet, and then the second. Her fingers closed around them like a vise and she slid them from her bra.

Looking up, she could see only Vottari’s silhouette outside. He had already unfurled one flap and was working on the other.

Snapping the first tablet so that it would dissolve faster, she dropped it into his drink.

She was in the process of snapping the second when it popped out from between her fingers and landed on the table.

Without a moment to lose, she picked up her glass with the cocktail napkin underneath, set it atop the pill and pressed down, crushing it.

Then, setting her glass aside, she grabbed Vottari’s. Sweeping the pieces into his glass, she gave it a swirl to mix everything up, and then she set it down.

Reclaiming her own glass, she leaned back against the loveseat and that’s when she saw him.

He was standing in the entrance, glaring at her, his mind moving from passion to rage.

Finally, he spoke. “What the fuck did you just do?”