Chapter 16 #2
Rogelio bows his head toward me before walking away, slipping into the sea of jovial faces. Without a word, Don Severo mirrors his son's actions and disappears.
"Shit," I whisper.
"Language," Dona Otero whispers back.
"He didn't look at me once." I ring my hands together, side-eyeing her.
"Then you must try harder." She waves to a lady across the courtyard. "No one said seducing him would be easy."
"Are we sure he doesn't have his sights set on another?"
Dona Otero squares her shoulders to mine, blocking guests from seeing my face. "He could be determined to marry his horse, and I wouldn't care. Your job is to secure his trust. Do whatever you have to do to have him feeding from your palm."
With those final words of wisdom, she turns and joins a gaggle of women across the room, leaving me to fend for myself as waves of Dons and Donas continue to crash into me.
I do my best to keep my eye on Rogelio to observe if he engages with another woman, but in true wallflower fashion, he nurses a drink with his back against a wall, ignoring everyone who comes within spitting distance.
What a frustratingly boring man. Who comes to a party and doesn't at the very least ask a lady to dance?
Countless women line one side of the courtyard waiting for a man to usher her to the dance floor.
Thankfully, since I'm new and in the throes of conversation, I have avoided the dance floor, but I grow weary of the mindless drivel of the elite.
Talk of new drapes, not being able to find good help these days, and my personal favorite: have you met my son, he's in need of a wife.
One can only meet so many dull young men before they all run together.
If I have to listen to Dona Salma go on about her swollen ankles one more minute, I might burn this house to the ground. I take a moment to excuse myself and slip by other party goers to find an abandoned spot near the arched entrance to the gardens and whip out my fan.
I was beginning to feel claustrophobic surrounded by so many people and it became so hot I was having trouble catching my breath.
I flutter my fan quickly to cool off, but the feeling of being watched forces me to look up and I regrettably make eye contact with Don Ernesto.
He wiggles his fingers as his white eyebrows bounce flirtatiously.
It takes an immense amount of willpower not to grimace at his shameless attempt at seduction.
He must be damn near seventy with more hair sticking out of his ears and nose than gracing his head.
It isn't until he starts to approach, I realize I've been flapping my fan rapidly and according to Otero's lessons, it signals whoever you're looking at that you're interested.
I scream internally before slamming my fan closed against my palm, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks.
The clear sign I'm not interested seems to rattle him but all I can do is shake my head before I panic and saunter away without saying a word.
Spotting the libation station, I beeline for the table and swipe a glass of red wine and down it.
What a disaster this night has turned out to be.
I was so confident I'd have Rogelio Murrieta proposing within minutes of meeting me – a haughty thought indeed – but instead I'm dodging widowed men with unrealistic expectations.
Not to mention, I haven't been left alone for hardly a second to eat any of the delicious aromatic food circulating the room on silver trays. I suppose there could be worse things.
"Someone is thirsty." A familiar voice sounds behind me.
I'd nearly forgotten my phantom was supposed to be in attendance tonight. I'm not sure if he's been here the entire time and I've not noticed or if he arrived fashionably late, but either way I don't care. I scowl at him as he takes his stance beside me.
"Your tactics will be wasted on me, Don Rafael," I hiss. "Better to use your time more productively."
"As I see it" – he steps closer and whispers – "it's you who should be using your time more wisely. I've been watching you half the night – "
"Not at all creepy."
" – and since your introduction, I have yet to see you with Rogelio Murrieta. I've observed you shamelessly flirt with every other available man in the room – "
"Not true," I interrupt, swiping a second glass of wine. "I haven't flirted with you."
He quirks an eyebrow in warning; my sarcasm skirting a line. "Perhaps you should focus."
"Perhaps you believe you can do a better job?"
He presses his hand on the table behind me, leaning indecently close to me. "If I could, I would do this myself," he says lowly. "Ironically the only two things Rogelio and I have in common are our hatred for his father and preference of female companionship."
"He's not interested in me," I huff. "He barely said two words when we were formally introduced. Now I am spending my evening dodging Dons that reek of desperation eager for me to show them, or their imbecile sons, affection."
He hums in the back of his throat, and it sends an unexpected shiver down my spine and pools in my lower belly. "Then I'm afraid my company won't be helpful."
"Meaning?" I glance up at him and he smirks down at me.
"I am perhaps the most eligible Don in the city. Being seen with me will make them want you more." He grabs the glass of wine from my hand and takes a sip.
"Or" – I snatch the glass back – "they will back down believing I'm too good for them."
"You are too good for them."
"Careful," I tsk. "That almost sounds like a compliment."
"It is a compliment."
"Don't patronize me. I don't have the patience for it tonight." I squint and take another sip of my drink, swatting at the bottom of my dress. "Damn these enormous skirts."
"Language," he fusses, but before I can respond his brows pinch together and he says, "They're leaving."
I catch Rogelio and Severo making their way to the door, exchanging heated whispered words.
Tonight was an utter failure. I down the last of the wine and set the glass on the table. "I'm not surprised they're leaving. Rogelio didn't want to be here. He just stood against a wall the entire night. What a tremendous bore he is. No wonder his father hates him."
"We can't let them leave." There's a seriousness, a desperation, that washes over Remus that seems almost panicked. "You have to get Rogelio's attention."
"I told you I tried!"
My words fall on deaf ears, because he squares his shoulders to mine and says, "We need to do the Paso Doble."