Ugly Ronney: mafia romance [English]

Chapter 17-4

We walked down the street to the largest theater in Sheryl Valley, laughing our asses off. Alistair and Bergamote still couldn't get over the story I had just told them on the bus about my two cousins.

"Well done, Ronney!" said Alistair.

He put his hat back on and wrapped his arm around Bergamote, who nodded and couldn't speak because she laughing too much..

Before entering the venue, my phone rang. I prayed to the sky in silence, Lord, please let it not be my parents calling me about this. Camilia's name was displayed on the screen. I frowned before taking the most normal tone possible.

"Go inside. I'll be right there," I said to my two friends.

They questioned me with their eyes.

"I just need to get an Uber for Timothy," I lied.

Reassured, they waved and disappeared inside the theater, leaving me in the warm night.

"Ronney, I'm sorry to bother you. Are you with Yeraz?"

Camilia spoke loudly to cover the noise around her. Most of the guests had already arrived at the castle.

"No, he was supposed to be at the party with you."

In my mind, I saw the image of Yeraz putting the invitation in his jacket pocket. Perhaps he had changed his mind?

"He isn't here, and he won't pick up the phone."

"Have you tried calling his bodyguards or Hamza?"

"Yes, they told me they haven't seen him either, but their word isn't worth much. In this world it's the omertà that prevails." Camilia sighed. "I won't bother you any further. Just let me know if he contacts you in any way. This is one of the most important galas of the year."

Anger filled her voice.

I replied, "Don't hesitate to call me back if there is any news on your side. I'll remain reachable."

When Camilia hung up, I called Yeraz's number five times, but his phone was turned off. I remained a moment in front of the doors of the venue, hoping to see him arrive. Outside, a fresh wind began to blow.

My smile returned to my face, like a mask, when I sat next to Bergamote. The show hadn't started yet. I tried to speak in an indifferent tone so that my two friends wouldn't suspect that I was consumed by anxiety.

I kept turning my head to the right, left, and back, thinking and wondering. Fortunately, the performance was about to start, and it would keep my mind busy for a while. But what would I have left afterward? Only anxiety.

The lights dimmed and the voices became whispers. An orchestra downstage began to play a melody that pierced and thrilled me from the first notes. The curtain rose and the ballet appeared. The set and costumes were breathtaking, offering a show halfway between magic and dream.

Daphne excelled at every step. Her ebony skin shone like a thousand little crystals under the lights of the projectors, making her even more dazzling, more inaccessible than she already was.

Throughout the ballet, the music enveloped us, caressed us, or pushed us around. The orchestra played with our emotions. The dances that followed one after another were all impregnated with a fairy-like quality. They required incredible effort that the dancers managed to make disappear under the most subtle of graces. At times, Daphne's feet didn't even touch the ground, giving the impression that she was being carried by the air.

After almost an hourof performance, the curtain fell. The standing ovation that followed was morethan deserved. My eyes were reddened with tears as I cheered for theexceptionally talented dancers. I had never seen such a beautiful performancein my life. Unfortunately, reality caught up with me all too suddenly when myeyes fell on the empty chair next to me. He hadn't come. Conflicting feelingscame over me: disappointment, annoyance, jealousy, worry. I imagined anythingand everything, but what I didn't know was that at that very moment, Yeraz hadjust declared war against the leader of the Rosa Negra. A bloody shooting wastaking place on the other side of Sheryl Valley.