Page 22 of Eternal Craving

Maybe I’d just get drunk.

I remained by the large double doors that led to the garden, leaning against one, grateful for the cool evening breeze, even as my hands shook.

I lifted one of the drinks offered from a tray and gulped the wine. Responding to my gesture, the waiter paused, allowing me to drop the empty glass and immediately take another. I felt a nudge and turned to see Salvador.

“Happy with your transaction?” he asked.

My guess had been right – he stood an inch taller than me.

“What?”

“The senator’s horse?”

I forced a smile. “We’re still negotiating.”

“Must be quite a horse.”

I grimaced at the thought of Felipe touching Alicia. Salvador didn’t seem to notice my reaction.

“My intention is to work for the senator when I retire,” he said. “I have one more year as a captain.”

“Politics?”

He nodded and I was polite enough not to cringe This man’s brilliance would be dulled by joining the elite in their nefarious dealings.

More guests lingered at the ballroom’s edge and the orchestra struck up.

“Change is what this country needs.” Salvador raised his voice over the music. “I have no interest in business.” He flinched. “Sorry I didn’t mean?—”

“You’d make a fine politician.”

Upon Salvador’s breasted jacket hung a gold medal engraved with a military emblem. I wondered how many men he’d had to kill to get it.

I followed his gaze.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” he said.

I sucked in my breath, entranced. At the center of the ballroom there stood a beautiful flamenco dancer likely around eighteen years of age, but her dramatic makeup made it difficult to say for sure.

Staccato handclapping arose from the crowd.

Waiting, she tilted her head, as though listening to the rhythm of the chanting. The fingers of her left hand struck the right, slapping the perfectly formed hollow. She threw back her head and lush, dark curls cascaded over her face. She snapped her fingers again and clicked her heels in an explosion of passion as she twisted the frills of her red dress. They swayed and whipped around her. She conveyed a tortured expression, exposing a broken heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and then flicked up her lace fan to cover her face, peering over it.

Our gazes met.

I wanted to know her.

I need to hear her name.

I tried to suppress my fascination and turned to Salvador. “When does the senator return home?”

“Tonight,” he answered. “He has to be back in Vigo by the morning.”

“How far away is Vigo?”

“It’s a two-day journey.”

I studied the faces of the other guests. They, too, were captivated with the dancing girl.