After stomping her foot in anger, Cynthia went to the one in charge of setting the ambience.
After whispering a few words to him, she left a generous tip and went to the dance floor, where she took off the hand around the neck of Daemon.
Her friend that had been grinding her backside against the man she had brought looked at her with an impish grin after the interruption.
Ignoring her with a huff, Cynthia took her place, and at that moment, the DJ changed the music into a slow. It didn't take much for Kelly, Jane and Rachel to understand what was going on, making teasing smiles appear on their faces.
Was their picky friend really interested in the mysterious man? Is she trying to play the hero and the beauty trope to the very end where the hero is thanked by the beauty?
Unfortunately, their musings were interrupted by some men around trying to invite them to dance. Uninterested, they laughed and returned to their seats.
Daemon looked at everything happening with some hidden amusement. His return to town was not leaving him bored at all.
Under Daemon's somewhat curious gaze, Cynthia took his hands and placed them around her waist. She closed the distance between them and started moving to the rhythm of the music, much like the couples still on the floor. With her gaze lost in the dark eyes of Daemon, she seemed to feel the world fading around them, leaving them alone in the place in the club.
In that hazy moment, she forgot about her father, she forgot about the background of the man holding her and transmitting the warmth from his palms through the neither thin nor thick fabric of her dress. She even forgot the disfigured side of the face before her, beholding only the deep eyes.
Cynthia's breathing changed, and her face started getting more ruddy. Though it was uncertain if it was because of the heat of the many bodies moving around. At the same time, the distance between them little by little went from narrow to almost non-existent, and their movements were getting even slower.
The tension between them made their faces not shy from closing the distance either. Cynthia was not short in height, and with her high-heels, she didn't need much more effort when it came to letting the seemingly irresistible attraction between their lips bear fruit.
In the meantime, her three friends who had returned to their table had been frozen in place for a while. Their drinks were either midway to their lips, or frozen at the destination, but without fulfilling the intended purpose. And the cause of that situation was the bold move of their friend on the dance floor.
They watched her slow the movements of the dance, then bring her face closer to Daemon's, while the latter did nothing to resist or break the spell Cynthia seemed to be under.
Lost in the spectacle, and filtering the advances from the flies around them, they were left full of anticipation at the explosion about to happen, tense at the seconds separating them from the moment the pairs of lips would touch each other.
Subconsciously grateful at the lack of visual obstacles, they watched the distance go from a dozen centimeters to less than that, to less than five centimeters, to three, to one…
"Lady and gentlemen, let us welcome the gift of the generous Michael Green. He is treating everyone to a round of drinks, and at the same time, he asks for some fire to get everyone's blood pumping. So get on the floor and move to the beat."
The sudden interruption startled them, almost making them spill their drink on themselves. Their eyes almost spewed fire, as they knocked the glasses with their drinks on the table, and full of murderous intentions, looked at the DJ who broke the atmosphere and changed the music, preventing them from watching the show to the end.
They were not the only one to have been brought back to reality, as Cynthia abruptly reared her head back, away from the breath she had been feeling on her skin, about a millimeter away from the lips she had been aiming for.
_ _ _
_ _ _
A few minutes ago, upstairs of the same club, at a table full of expensive bottles of liquor, a group of men in their thirties, with some less, were relaxing, a few of them with scantily dressed women in their arms.
In the innermost side, sat one young man who was sipping his drink with a bit of boredom, overlooking the dancefloor below. Suddenly, his eyes widened. He almost spat the content of his mouth after sighting something below.
"Huh? Isn't that Cynthia?"
The others beside him stopped their fun and looked at him. Meanwhile, the one in the middle of the group, frowned and stood up to approach the young man that just spoke.
Another man, with a girl on his lap asked in curiosity:
"Which Cynthia, Ralph?"
"The head of the marketing department of my father's company. My brother's crush."
The crowd was startled, with one of them exclaiming:
"The one he has been failing to pursue for years?"
"Ye-"
*Smack* "Would it kill you to talk less? Beware of your presence here being known by our father later."
The brother in question, having arrived beside the talkative younger brother, Ralph, did nothing to hide his exasperation at the latter. He manifested it by smacking him on the head, before following the direction his gaze had been looking at.
The sight that entered his view made him clench his fists that were on the railing.
"You will be in more trouble than me since you brought me here."
He ignored the mutterings of Ralph, his eyes fixed on the figures of Cynthia and Daemon below. Watching the atmosphere that was getting set for something more between them, he gritted his teeth. With anger and jealousy washing over him, he proclaimed:
"Tonight I, Michael Green, will buy a round of drinks for everyone in the club. Have the DJ change the music to something more upbeat."
The other men who, at some point, had gathered to also watch the spectacle understood the suppressed anger from the seemingly generous declaration. After all, a girl he had been pursuing for so long without succeeding in getting past any wall was with another man, about to get more intimate than normal with the latter. Even an eunuch would be angry, wouldn't he?