Dance in his battlefield

CHAPTER 9

Camillo’s POV

"Mr. Valente?” I watch as the lady approaches him.

“Sia, I’m the lead singer, the one you…”

“I think you should get back to singing; I have no time for such,” Valente says, sipping from his wine. She stomps her feet and walks out.

“She is very interested in you, you know." I sip my wine.

“She doesn't tickle my fancy. I don't like when they fling themselves on me; I love to chase, Camillo.”

I follow his gaze to a lady seated at the far end of another table, staring out at the artistic design of the stars in the night sky.

Blue gown.

Dark skin glowing under the light. The slit of her dress revealed just enough thigh to make a man pause.

“Ahhhhh, you’ve got sight, my friend.” I sip from my drink. “That’s Daisy. Husband’s late, however, a queen standing strong. It might be a hard one to crack, Val. You should focus on others."

I pat his shoulder.

“A hard nut to crack indeed,” he whispers. Immediately, she stands and exits to the balcony.

Perfect timing.

He finishes his drink, straightens his suit, and follows her. I shake my head lightly and return my attention to my drink.

While he’s gone, I notice my men moving Eric to another building. Good.

At least something exciting is happening tonight.

“Valente, don’t tell me you are not enjoying my party,” I call out as I walk towards him when he returns. He shows me a card with a proud smirk. I clap.

“Where is he being moved to?” he asks.

“To be treated, after which I resume my torture,” I reply.

“Would love to buy him.” I pause, surprised.

"Yeah, I know he is incompetent,” he continues.

“Wait, wait,” I cough. “That fool who couldn't kill a girl? Of what use is he to you?” I ask. “Are you now into men?”

“You talk rubbish, Camillo. How much do I give you for him?” I stare at him for a moment, then let it go. I’m not in the mood to argue with stubborn Valente.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him to you as a ‘thank you’ gift. He’s of no use to me anyway,” I say.

He relaxes into his chair, admiring the dance floor. A man hops from one woman to another, but my attention shifts to a woman sitting at the right corner of the room. She gulps down one, two, three glasses in quick succession, her anger building with each one. She stands.

Wine bottle in hand.

She walks straight to the man.The shriek that follows silences the entire room.

“When you are done, prepare to sign a divorce,” her Indian accent cuts through the air.

The man drops to his knees instantly. "Samantha, pleaseee, I was drunk—”I let out a loud cackle.

“The kind of drama you have to experience as a man if a woman makes you,” I say.

“Anyways, I have heard your heir has no woman by his side.” He turns to me, interested.

I adjust myself. “Well, my daughter's dance competition would be coming up. The truth is, I'm tired of her running around in that dance academy. Nothing good comes out of it, except for some nonsense fantasy about Dennis.” I look at him.

“I cannot give my daughter out to the son of my enemy. Eddy Arnold is an asshole, I cannot be—”

“So you want my son instead?” he cuts in.“Think about it, Valente, a stronger ally with me." I sip my drink. He smiles.

“We’ll have them meet at the competition then,” he says. He gets up, finishes his wine, and walks out. I signal two women. They nod, adjusting their hair as they hurry after him.

–––

“ELARA POV”

I turn my face angle, then wipe off the lip gloss. I wanted to try something different, but it looked more of a mess.

My phone buzzes. “Be there in 10 minutes. I hope you're ready,” Mrs. Adele's text chimes.

How do I explain I was paying double attention to my looks; you're embarrassing Elara.

I put on the lip gloss, picked up my bag, and headed out.

~~~

2 hours! Mrs. Adele didn't tell me the training was to be this rigorous.

“One more time, Elara. I love how fast you are picking up."

His smile.

I wouldn't mind another 2 hours even if my legs fail. I get up and stretch.

“I'm sorry, didn't realize I must have stretched you." He approached with a bottle of water. I open my mouth, but words don't leave it.

“You know what, let's have lunch; we will continue tomorrow. That's okay by you, right?” I nod.

The answer I want to give is NO.

“Meet me at the dining room after you freshen up." He walks out.

“Wait,”

What am I doing? He turned!

“I… I need a soap with less fragrance. My skin's allergic…”

“I'll have that brought to you now.”

Elara, an allergy??? When? I smack my head and laugh.