"Excuse me?" I don't move a muscle.

Eyes still fixed on mine, Matteo enunciates the words more carefully as if I don't speak English. "I said, get in."

The man is delusional. That's the only rational explanation I can come up with. My spine straightens, and I imagine smoke pouring out of my ears as I stand on the sidewalk outside the club.

When I don't make a move to follow his directives, he sighs loudly in exasperation. Even when I'm pissed, his accent still has the ...