Victoria Venture

The music vibrates through Liam’s entire being, the beat pulsing in his bones, and he’s practically sinking into the hazy, technicolor haze of the party. The lights, the sounds, and the laughter blend together, and everything feels surreal—like he’s wading through a river of velvet, soft and warm, numbing him to the edges of reality. The chaos around him is intense, making it hard to hold onto any clear thought.

Liam doesn’t even realize he’s zoned out until something sharp cuts through the haze—eye contact. He blinks, focusing, and there you are, just across the crowd, locking eyes with him in a way that grounds him. The world clicks back into place, and in a rush, he remembers the plan, the trial, everything. Watching as you drift off with Marcus trailing close behind, he realizes it’s his cue, his moment. Victoria needs to be distracted.

His gaze sweeps the crowd, and sure enough, there she is, seated like a queen in her domain, a glass in hand, scanning the crowd with her usual air of detached elegance. Liam takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as he tries to collect his scattered thoughts, still fogged by the party’s dizzying atmosphere. He knows he needs to draw her attention, keep her engaged just long enough for you to work your magic with Marcus, but every idea he grasps at slips away before he can hold onto it.

Should he try flattery? She likes that, right? A compliment could work—but she’s probably heard it all before. Or maybe he could pretend he’s looking for advice? But… on what? His mind is a mess, every thought slipping and swirling together. He tries to come up with something clever, something charming, but it’s all a blur.

Maybe he could talk about… oh god, what did they even have in common? His brain feels like it’s moving through molasses, his usual quick wit dulled by the party’s heavy, intoxicating aura.

She’s looking in his direction now, and he feels a jolt of panic. Think, Liam. Say something, anything! He racks his brain, but every idea is mush, a tangled mess of half-formed thoughts and party-fueled nerves.

Liam, still lost in desperation, stares helplessly as Victoria’s gaze drifts around the room, oblivious to him.

Liam feels a wild burst of energy crackle through him, the party’s surreal vibes pushing him to a breaking point. The thumping music, swirling lights, and the heavy cocktail of **** coursing through his veins all combine to push him over the edge, and he realizes that waiting and hesitating will get him nowhere. He needs to act, even if he has absolutely no plan. Screw it.

With a burst of adrenaline and the kind of recklessness only Dionysian insanity could fuel, he charges forward and dives into something insane. He marches straight toward Victoria’s booth, already standing a little straighter, trying to gather his thoughts—but they’re slipping away too fast for him to catch. So he decides to improvise.

Liam approaches, and, without another thought, flops down in the booth across from her with a dramatic sigh, his face contorting into a pained look. He doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing, but the sound of his own voice escaping in a groan, louder than intended, startles him just as much as it does her.

Victoria lifts her head, clearly irritated by the intrusion. She’s the picture of cool indifference, her brows arching ever so slightly as she regards him. “Is there a reason you’re here, or is it just to waste my time?” she asks, her voice sharp.

“Oh god, yes, thank you! Someone who understands!” Liam doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but he goes with it. “You don’t understand, I’ve just had…the worst night,” he says, layering on the drama, clutching his chest with a hand. “And I could tell _you _would be the one to understand me.”

Victoria blinks, stunned, caught between irritation and confusion. “Why would I care?” she scoffs, but her curiosity is clearly piqued.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he says, his voice breaking slightly for added effect, “I came here with this girl tonight, right? And everything was going fine, I was ready for this perfect night, and then she…she just ditched me!” He gestures wildly, barely in control of his movements, but the **** has muted any embarrassment he might otherwise have felt.

Victoria rolls her eyes, though she appears mildly intrigued now, or at least entertained. “You’re telling me this because…?”

“Because…because…” Liam scrambles, his mind a foggy, swirling mess. “I could just tell you would get it. I mean, you of all people, you’re so…” He tries to think of the right word. “...elegant. You probably deal with idiots and wannabes all the time, right?”

Her eyes narrow slightly, her lips pressing into a smug line. “Naturally.”

“Exactly,” Liam says, leaning in, pouring on the wide-eyed admiration. “That’s what I thought when I saw you sitting here, looking like some kind of…I don’t know, a goddess among mortals!” He cringes at the line even as it leaves his lips, but somehow, it seems to land.

Victoria seems to soften, her irritation melting into a smirk as she raises an eyebrow. “Goddess, huh?” she repeats, tapping her perfectly manicured fingers on her glass, clearly enjoying the ego boost.

“Totally! And you know what?” Liam says, letting the next part tumble out without thinking. “I bet you’re the only person in this entire club who could actually show me a good time tonight.”

She stares at him, clearly intrigued, possibly amused, though she’s trying hard not to let it show. “I doubt you’re as entertaining as you think,” she says, though her tone has softened.

Liam gulps, his mind racing, the **** making every thought a sluggish mess, but he forces himself to lean in further. “Come on, just one drink?” He gestures around. “I mean, the night’s young, and I’m sure a goddess like you wouldn’t turn down a challenge, right?”

Victoria chuckles, just barely, and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she mutters, but he can tell she’s beginning to consider it.

He mentally cheers and plunges forward, “Look, I’ll even make a bet with you. If I can’t make you laugh in the next…” he pauses dramatically, swaying slightly, “in the next ten minutes, I’ll leave you alone and let you get back to…whatever you were doing.”

She eyes him, clearly skeptical. “And if you win?”

“If I win…” He trails off, grasping for an idea. “If I win, you’ll come grab a drink with me, and I’ll show you the best time you’ve had all night.” He gives her a charming grin, hoping that even a small piece of his genuine nerves might pass for flirty confidence.

Her eyes glint with interest, and he can see her mulling it over. The gears in her head are turning, and he realizes she’s actually considering it. But before he can celebrate internally, Victoria shakes her head, her gaze sharpening. “Nice try, but I’m not interested in being anyone’s entertainment tonight,” she says, crossing her arms.

Desperation flares, and without thinking, he blurts out, “But I bet I could tell you something about Marcus you don’t know.” He’s grasping at straws, but it seems to hit a nerve. He watches her stiffen slightly, her gaze narrowing.

“Excuse me?” she says, the haughty edge returning.

Liam gulps, fully committing now. “Just… something I overheard,” he says, throwing in a small, mischievous smirk to keep her curious. “But you know, if you’re not interested…” He starts to turn away, doing his best to look like he might leave, his heart racing.

To his immense relief, she stops him, raising a hand with a small sigh of exasperation. “Fine,” she snaps, glancing around as though making sure no one is watching her give in to the moment. “You have five minutes, and it had better be good.”

Liam exhales, trying to conceal his relief, and begins to rack his brain for what he could possibly say to keep her from walking away. All he has are fragments of things he’s heard, half-truths, and the foggy images of every conversation he’s ever had with you about the plan.

But he forces himself to focus, the insane psychedelic energy of the party buzzing around him, amplifying everything. The **** in his veins drives him forward, making him bolder, or maybe just more foolish. Either way, he’s committed now. He just has to keep the momentum going.

Liam’s brain is churning through the fog of **** and that Dionysian haze still pulsing through him, making everything feel surreal, floaty, and just too real all at once. His heart pounds, but he can't back down now—Victoria is still staring at him, tapping her fingers impatiently on her glass.

With a deep breath, he goes for it. He leans in, lowering his voice as if he's about to reveal the secret of the century.

“Look,” he says, throwing in just the right mix of mystery and intrigue, “I overheard Marcus talking about this huge surprise he’s been planning for you. Like, tonight. Right now.” He lets that hang in the air, watching Victoria’s skeptical, icy expression slowly shift, a spark of curiosity flickering in her eyes. Both he and Victoria were oblivious to the fact that Liam completely switched gears in what was only a matter of seconds, both lost in an ****-induced haze intertwined with Dionysus' party powers.

“Marcus…has a surprise for me?” she asks, her voice dripping with skepticism but tinted with interest.

Liam nods eagerly, internally flailing to piece something together that won’t crumble at the slightest pushback. “Yeah. Apparently, he’s been going all out. You know, VIP treatment, exclusive spot, drinks on demand—the whole nine yards,” he says, waving his hand in a vague gesture. “But I think he’s keeping it hidden somewhere in this club. It’s probably something only a few people get to see.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly considering his words but still not completely convinced. Liam swallows hard, pressing forward. “Look, if you don’t believe me, that’s fair,” he says, injecting a touch of annoyance into his voice, feigning offense. “I was just trying to be a good guy and give you the heads-up. But hey, if you’d rather sit here…”

He starts to turn away, throwing her one last meaningful look, hoping against hope this insane gamble pays off. His heart races as he sees Victoria’s gaze narrow thoughtfully, her fingers pausing mid-tap on her glass.

“Wait,” she says, reaching out to stop him. Her eyes are sharp, scrutinizing him as though weighing his intentions. “Why would you tell me this?”

Liam’s mind races, and he decides to throw in a little misdirection. “Because…” he hesitates, then goes for the jugular, “I heard Marcus mention something about needing time away for the surprise prep. Like, I don’t know—something elaborate.”

The last word hovers, and he watches her eyes widen just slightly. There’s a flash of suspicion, maybe even jealousy, and he knows he’s hit a nerve. Victoria is now clearly intrigued, maybe even annoyed at the thought that Marcus might be off somewhere doing something she doesn’t know about.

He holds her gaze, waiting, hoping she’ll take the bait. Then, after a tense pause, she sighs, setting her drink down with a glimmer of curiosity and just a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Fine. Let’s find out what this is,” she mutters, standing up with a little flounce. “If he’s really planned something, I want to see it for myself. And if not…” She trails off, clearly implying Marcus will have some explaining to do later.

Liam barely contains his relief, quickly nodding and gesturing for her to follow him. “I think I saw something down that hallway over there,” he says, leading her away from the booth, trying to maintain his composure and not look like he’s dragging her on a wild goose chase. His pulse quickens with every step, hoping he can keep this charade going for just a bit longer.

As they weave through the pulsating crowd, he tries to make conversation to keep her engaged. “You know, Marcus really talks about you a lot,” he lies, doing his best to keep his tone casual. “He’s got this… way of lighting up whenever he mentions you. Honestly, I’ve never seen a guy so into his girlfriend.”

Victoria, who seems to enjoy any praise involving her boyfriend’s affection, gives a slight, satisfied smile, her expression softening. “Does he really?” she asks, a bit of a blush tinging her cheeks despite her best efforts to remain aloof.

“Oh, definitely. I mean, he basically never shuts up about you.” Liam nods earnestly, improvising with each word. “He mentioned something about how you’re, like, the only person who truly understands him or whatever. And then he mentioned this surprise, and I just knew it was for you.”

Victoria’s interest is piqued, and Liam feels like he’s hit some kind of stride with this ridiculous story. As they near the end of the hallway, he spots a door marked “Private” and gestures to it, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Maybe it’s in there?” he suggests, doing his best to look convincingly speculative. “Wouldn’t that be, like, the perfect spot to hide something special?”

Victoria eyes the door with suspicion. “This better not be some kind of joke,” she warns, clearly wary but unable to resist the pull of curiosity.

He chuckles, putting up his hands in a placating gesture. “No joke,” he promises, crossing his fingers behind his back. “You’re the queen tonight, and Marcus would definitely make sure whatever he planned is fit for a queen.”

She scoffs but strides forward, pushing open the door with a flick of her manicured fingers. The room is dark, and Liam quickly reaches out to a nearby switch, turning on dim lighting to reveal a storage area. He cringes internally but tries to hide it, hoping she doesn’t catch the mess of supplies and stacked chairs.

Victoria steps in, glancing around, her face a mask of skepticism.

“Uh, maybe it’s further in,” he suggests, praying for some kind of miracle as he points toward the back of the storage room. “I mean, he wouldn’t leave it right here at the front.”

She eyes him, clearly doubting every word he’s said up to this point. But she steps further in, her curiosity outweighing her ****, and Liam follows her, silently screaming at himself to think of something, anything, to keep her distracted. His mind races as he tries to come up with an explanation, his desperation mounting.

And then, in a stroke of inspiration—or pure insanity—he pulls out his phone and flicks on the flashlight, scanning the back shelves. “Maybe there’s a clue?” he suggests, holding his phone up toward an old crate, glancing back at her. “You know, like, a little scavenger hunt leading to the main event. It’s totally his style.”

Victoria narrows her eyes, taking in his theatrics, but she’s clearly invested now. “Fine, what am I looking for, then?” she demands, folding her arms.

Liam scratches his head, trying not to let his panic show, and shrugs nonchalantly. “Uh, maybe check behind those crates?” he says, pointing to a random stack. She sighs but obliges, moving over to poke around.

He keeps his flashlight moving, sweeping over various objects, narrating each find in an over-the-top, dramatic tone, as if they’re discovering buried treasure. “Oh, look! A…vintage mop! Totally could be a clue.” He points to a random mop leaning in the corner, trying his best not to laugh at his own ridiculousness.

Victoria rolls her eyes but plays along, moving things around with mild irritation, though she’s clearly not ready to abandon the search just yet.

Finally, after a few more minutes of fake hunting, she sighs deeply, giving him an unimpressed look. “Alright, I don’t see anything here. Are you sure this isn’t just some elaborate prank?”

Liam feigns offense, his hand dramatically clutching his chest. “Me? Prank you? Never! I just…” He falters, struggling to think of the next move. “I think maybe we need to go back to the main party and, uh, regroup? Maybe there’s more to this surprise somewhere else.”

Victoria raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but just as she’s about to protest, the music from the main party swells louder, as if punctuating his desperation.

Liam’s heart is hammering as Victoria fixes him with an unimpressed stare. In this small, dimly lit storage room, the pulsating beat of the party outside reverberates through the walls, and the wild mix of lights and sounds makes his head feel like it’s in a fishbowl. Every breath he takes is thick with that hazy Dionysian intoxication, amplifying every sound, every color, every crazy impulse clawing its way up from his brain to his mouth. And in this moment, he’s ****. This is his chance to keep her away from Marcus, but the how of it? That part is missing.

Victoria tilts her head, folding her arms over her designer dress, and the growing look of skepticism on her face is not helping his fraying nerves. He realizes he’s only got seconds before she wises up and storms back to Marcus.

Liam’s mind spins. His tongue feels thick as he starts to babble out, “Listen, Victoria, you’re going to want to stay in here. Trust me. I just… think this room, there’s like… I think maybe, um…” Words fail him, his thoughts collapsing in real-time. Think. Think.

And then—lightning—a brilliant, albeit absurdly reckless idea strikes him. He has no time to consider whether this makes sense or if it’s even remotely sane. He just needs her to stay. He grabs his phone, takes a breath, and throws himself into his half-baked scheme.

Liam leans against a shelf, furrowing his brows as if deep in thought. “So… look. I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but since you’re in here, you have to know.” He lowers his voice, making it as ominous and conspiratorial as he can manage. “Marcus told me there’s a hidden—uh, let’s call it a lockbox—with a special, private message for you. Something meant only for you.”

Victoria’s eyes narrow, skepticism flashing in them. “A lockbox with a private message?” she repeats, her tone drenched in doubt. “And he just left it in a storage room? Really?”

“Exactly!” Liam says, as if she’s made his point for him. “It’s so out of place that it’s actually perfect! No one would expect it to be here. And—” He pauses, racking his brain, “—the thing is… the message is voice-activated. Like, you know, with your voice. It’s gotta be you who finds it.”

“Voice-activated?” she repeats, folding her arms.

“Uh… yes,” Liam forges on, praying she doesn’t call his bluff. “He wanted it to be something meaningful, so he, um, recorded a private message for you. A romantic one.”

Victoria hesitates, her expression softening at the idea. A little hint of pride mixes in, her eyes twinkling with interest. “Marcus did that?” she asks, her voice finally showing some curiosity. He can tell she’s already imagining some cinematic scene, Marcus leaving a heartfelt message in a secret spot just for her.

“Yep,” he says, forcing a wide smile. “I’m telling you, it’s super high-tech. But the catch is… it only works if you’re totally alone. No one else can be in here. Not even me.”

He watches her expression, bracing himself. She’s silent for a moment, visibly weighing her options, and he feels the tension tighten like a spring. Then, with a **** sigh, she gestures toward the door.

“Fine,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll… I’ll try it out. But if this turns out to be some idiotic prank, you’re going to regret it.”

“Absolutely not a prank!” he blurts out, his voice an octave too high. He stumbles back a step, moving toward the door, trying to look calm and cool. “Just… just remember, no one else can be in here, or it won’t work.”

As soon as he’s out in the hallway, he sucks in a deep breath, his heart pounding as he hovers by the door, half-expecting her to storm out any second. But the handle doesn’t turn. She’s actually trying it.

He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to contain his sheer disbelief that it’s working. Then, without another moment to lose, he turns and bolts down the hall, weaving back through the crowd with one goal in mind: Get far, far away before she realizes there’s no lockbox, no voice-activated anything.

Slipping back into the pulsating rhythm of the party, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, the adrenaline mixing with the intoxication like fuel on a fire. His vision blurs for a moment, the flashing lights and heady scent of the crowd wrapping around him like a whirlwind. He sways, catching himself on a nearby table, his head feeling light and spinny, but he forces himself to move, to put as much distance as possible between him and that room.

“Dude,” he mutters to himself, barely able to process what just happened. He stumbles a bit, barely avoiding a dancing couple who shoot him annoyed glances, but he’s too buzzed to care. He just keeps walking, his steps uneven, muttering every apology he can manage between breaths.

Eventually, he makes it back into the main area of the club, where the crowd is thick and lively. He blends in with the dancing mass, letting the chaotic beat of the music steady his pulse. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, letting the beat and the swirling colors soothe his nerves.

Then he remembers his original goal. The plan. The trial.

Marcus.