Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Nine: Acquisition of Flor de Loto?
Before them stood a group of desperate individuals, akin to drowning victims clinging to a straw for survival.
From Charlie Edward's face, it was clear he was no mere straw but a grand ship, one that could save everyone present.
However, to board this ship, they needed a ticket, and it was uncertain what price they would have to pay to obtain it.
Disappointingly, after the pleasantries, Mr. Edward did not divulge the information they were eager to learn; instead, he moved on to the normal proceedings of the party.
The music resumed, and the familiar notes of a waltz began to play, prompting Zhao Lun to unconsciously sway along with the rhythm.
The flickering lights filled the entire hall with a vibrant atmosphere, and soon, men and women began to emerge, dancing together in time with the music.
The waltz, a social dance, had become an international sensation due to its significance. Influenced by court dances and refined over centuries, its movements were dignified and elegant, embodying the essence of gentlemanly grace. It was particularly popular in Western countries, especially at noble gatherings, where it was essential.
Considering the age of the guests, the tempo of tonight's music was slightly slower than usual. The impatient younger crowd would find it hard to accept such a pace.
"Boss, do you want to join them?"
As the music began, Zhao Lun received an invitation.
He glanced at Monica, and seeing her eager expression, he couldn't decline. He responded graciously, "It would be my honor!"
The two moved gracefully to the dance floor and began to dance.
The lighting was dim, but it didn't hinder Zhao Lun's vision; he could clearly see the details around him.
Before him were a delicate neck and, upon looking slightly up, he found a finely sculpted chin and beautiful red lips, complemented by captivating, expressive eyes. Those eyes, however, held a coldness that only he could perceive; to others, they appeared warm.
As they moved with the music, the gentle melody enhanced their connection, and Zhao Lun recognized that this was a specially arranged piece.
A subtle fragrance wafted from Penelope, leaving Zhao Lun feeling warm. The most awkward part was the high heels she wore, giving her a slight advantage in height, which made Zhao Lun feel a bit uncomfortable, as if he were being teased by a subordinate, unable to say anything about it.
As the piece concluded, Zhao Lun stepped back and returned to his seat, picking up a glass of ice water to sip. "So, why aren't you ladies dancing?"
The women around him had a look that seemed to push others away; those who approached with invitations found themselves deterred by their imposing presence, awkwardly retreating to a distance.
Seeing their discomfort, Zhao Lun's earlier annoyance faded away.
"The scent of those men is far too strong…"
"I don't like it…"
"Not interested!"
Due to dietary habits, the men here carried a noticeable odor. To mask it, they resorted to heavy men's perfumes.
These fragrances were typically effective; for ordinary people, they would not only mask the underlying scent but also enhance the wearer's masculine charm.
However, Nicole and the others were no ordinary individuals; their senses exceeded the norm. The men's natural odor could not escape them, and even the perfumes had little impact.
Having grown accustomed to their own Flor de Loto fragrance, the scent of these men's perfumes felt off to them—like a lazy man trying to cover up his child's soiled pants with cheap cologne, only to have the odor give way before the smell of decay became unbearable.
In the face of such oddities, those without resources might adapt and tolerate it, but those with means would not stand for it. They would use their power or influence to instigate change.
Nicole and her friends fell into the latter category, refusing to accommodate others at the expense of their comfort.
The women shot disapproving glances at the men, yet they still indulged Zhao Lun's dark humor.
"Mr. Allen, may I suggest…"
Zhao Lun, sensing the strange atmosphere, accepted the invitation. "It would be my honor."
Nicole stepped forward, taking Zhao Lun's hand, and they began to dance to the new tune. Listening closely, he recognized the song, "A Whiff of Woman," and naturally fell into a tango rhythm.
This piece was far more stirring than the previous conservative waltz. As the music began, the number of dancers in the hall quickly increased.
The conservative crowd had largely dissipated, with mostly young people taking to the dance floor.
The previous restraint had stifled Zhao Lun's expression, but with this new rhythm, he showcased his impressive dancing skills. Nicole shone just as brightly, and together they created a captivating performance that drew others into their rhythm. By the time they finished, they realized they had created a void around them.
Applause erupted, resounding through the hall.
Zhao Lun and Nicole acknowledged the crowd before returning to their seats.
"Allen, your dance skills are amazing!"
Upon returning, the women looked at him with enthusiasm, eager for another dance.
"You've stolen the spotlight."
Zhao Lun gestured toward the surrounding guests, effectively extinguishing their desire to drag him back onto the dance floor. Though there was some regret, they refrained from insisting, which relieved Zhao Lun.
As the dance floor filled again, the spotlight had shifted away from them, making the sight of others dancing feel rather lackluster.
"Let's head over there and sit for a bit."
The aroma of food wafted through the air, reminding Zhao Lun of his hunger, prompting him to suggest they check out the buffet nearby.
However, the buffet left much to be desired. While the guests had hearty appetites, the food was limited, and they couldn't fill their stomachs adequately without compromising their image. The women were particularly conscious of their appearances, opting to sample just a few bites.
Zhao Lun also didn't indulge, instead sipping his drink while observing the guests and chatting with the women.
"So, what are your thoughts?"
"Nothing much, just recognizing some familiar faces. Look, that's him."
They pointed toward a couple—a slender man and a heavier woman. The heavier woman was Charlie Edward's sister, and the slender man was none other than Joe Edward, who had changed his surname to benefit from his wife's family name.
At that moment, Joe Edward's demeanor had shifted significantly. The man in the photo had appeared sycophantic, while now he exuded an air of servility mixed with arrogance and an unmistakable sharpness.
The couple reveled in the attention of those around them, flaunting their elevated status.
"He's looking to acquire our Flor de Loto perfume company for a million pounds as a gift for his wife."
"A million pounds for our Flor de Loto? Am I hearing this right? Is he out of his mind?"
"No, you heard correctly; that's indeed his intention."