Chapter 7 Seven
Luca's POV
I set the walkie-talkie down. The sound of static told me all I needed to know. Elara had most likely intercepted the attack that I had commanded, and there was a chance that she was on the other end. I resisted the urge to say her name, to taunt her.
She got under my skin, and she stirred something I hadn't felt in years, but she was still my enemy. There was no way in hell I was going to let her sit above me in dominating the mafias.
I stared down at the invite that sat in an intricately designed envelope. The Warren family had invited me to a very late soiree. I was not sure what it was supposed to be for, but the Warrens were known for their extravaganza, spontaneity and love for parties. It was more like what their young leader was known for. He was useless as far as I was concerned, because he only lived off a legacy his father built. He had not contributed anything to the family.
I threw the remaining whiskey in my glass down my throat and headed to my bathroom. I trimmed my beards and took a quick shower, timing myself. I had fifteen minutes to get to the soiree. I would be arriving for the function late but it didn't matter. I only wanted to use it as an alibi.
I knew that my cover was blown and she or a member of her rogue community knew I was behind the attack, but if I was at the party, she would not be able to form any evidence that I was present. And I could claim that the wolves she had caught were acting on their own.
As I knotted my tie and headed out of the gothic-style mansion towards the garage. I got into the nearest vehicle to the entrance, a Mercedes truck, and drove off.
As I went through the gate, I got a call from Caspian. I hated to see a call or message from him. Very recently, he had become the bearer of bad news. And it was because Elara Increasingly made it obvious that she wanted to take over my position and the position of my group.
Irritation gnawed at me at that thought. I hated the thought that she was leading a group of rogues, and they were actually making progress in getting to me.
I attached the phone to a holder and accepted the call.
“I looked through the record we discussed. There are some things the rogue and her members shouldn't have known but they knew them, and they have served as loopholes for them to get us in the ways they have. It seems your guess was right,” he said thoughtfully.
I heard the words he said, but I could not help my fixation on the way he called Elara a rogue. The hatred with which he said it elicited a primal reaction from me. A need to protect Elara and the way she was spoken of.
“Fuck,” I muttered, swerving to the side of the road. I glanced at the time. I had three more minutes.
“Let's talk about this when I get back. I've got shit to take care of,” I said and he grunted in response, hanging up.
I swerved into the entrance and tossed my key at the valet, glancing at my watch. One minute. I went round to the back entrance, heading into the bathroom.
I stood in front of my mirror and arranged my shirt, parting off the droplets of sweat that gathered on my forehead.
Fury flushed through me. I could not believe that I was allowing her to make me do this. Actually, she was not making me do it. I was doing it by myself. I had made the impulsive decision to test her, see what she could and would do. I had not thought of the consequences, the laws I could be breaking, the boundaries I was crossing. Elara clouded my damn mind, and she warped my actions and decisions.
I squared my shoulders and forced my polite smile, so I would be able to speak to people without chasing them off. I walked into the ballroom. It was bubbling with activity. People dancing at the center, others talking over wine, champagne and finger foods and the rest standing guard.
As I approached David Warren, the one who had organized the party, a lady stepped in front of me. Her brown hair was let down and her scent overwhelmed me. Her natural scent, with a smoky cherry perfume. I did not have to see her face behind the lace mask to know who it was.
I tucked my clenched hand in my pocket. I did not have time to prepare myself to see her.
“A dance, Blackwood?” She asked. Her words were soft and graceful, but beneath the sugar, I heard the slight tremor when she called my name. She hated it. She hated me. And she sure as hell did not want to dance with me.
“Of course, Miss Elora,” I taunted her.
“It's Elara,” her cherry lips stretched into a pleasant smile.
“Forgive me, I tend to remember insignificant details,” I pushed further.
I needed to see how much of a reaction I could draw from her, I needed to see how much I affected her, how much she cared about the things I said and things I left unsaid.
I placed my hand on her hip and observed her keenly for a reaction. A gasp, a shift in her breathing, tremors or shivers. Nothing. I got nothing.
“I know what you did tonight, Blackwood–” she started speaking as soon as we were on the dancefloor.
“Luca,” I cut her off.
“I’ll inform you once. There will be consequences, and they will come when you least expect them,” her words were said in a calm manner. And if I was not so obsessed with the fact that she was not melting into my touch, I would have sensed the promise of chaos behind them.
I pressed her small body against mine and he glared at me with her intoxicating, hazel eyes. “My name is Luca,” I repeated.
She scoffed. “Quite bold of you to think I give a rat's ass about what your name is, Blackwood,” she emphasized the name she has been calling me.
“I've passed my message. I'm done here,” she took her hand off my shoulder. Before I could protest, she was gone. She blended into the room. I went after her and out the back entrance.
She was gone. Not even her scent lingered.