Right one at the wrong time

The party after the turquoise carpet

Chapter 15:

In the quiet of her room, Ana stood before the mirror, carefully assembling her look for the evening. She had deliberately chosen this dress. It was even more elegant than what she had previously worn on the turquoise carpet, its fabric gliding over her figure like liquid silver. Subtle patterns ran through the material and caught the light with every movement, creating a mesmerising effect. She told herself that her choice was strategic, perhaps even a play. She was dressing to impress and to maybe now catch Cornelia off guard. It still felt like some kind of secret game they were playing. A game between rivals. Her preparations were not just about looking good; it was about feeling powerful, in control. Yet, as she added the final touches to her outfit, her mind wandered, entertaining the possibility of Cornelia’s gaze lingering on her, an idea she very quickly dismissed. But a part of her was still wondering how the blonde woman would react, would she even notice, would she care? But this was just a competition, nothing more.

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Ana, accompanied by her team including Kosta, Marija, and Milovan, entered the grand party room. The room was huge, easily accommodating more than a hundred people and had a similar vibe as the previous venue. The luxurious décor combined with the lively conversations created an atmosphere of exclusivity and celebration.

The whole room was filled with tables where various artists and their teams were seated, engaged in animated discussions. A bar, well-stocked with a selection of drinks and snacks and music, currently playing from a DJ’s setup, filled the room with a lively rhythm. A set of microphones at the front hinted at a possible live performances to come later in the evening.

As they made their way through the crowd, Konstrakta discreetly scanned the room. Her eyes moved from one face to another, subtly searching for a head full of short, straight blonde hair. Despite her efforts, she was nowhere to be seen, leaving Konstrakta unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

The room continued to fill, the hum of conversations growing louder. They decided it was time to look for their table and quickly found it, which was labelled with a reservation sign bearing their names.

Konstrakta had made a decision – no more consciously avoiding Cornelia. She wasn’t afraid of her and wouldn’t let the Swede disrupt her composure. Her plan was simple: indifference. She would treat Cornelia as just another artist at the event, nothing more. In her mind, she rehearsed this attitude of nonchalance, even as a part of her remained very aware of Cornelia’s absence. She tried to focus on her team and the evening ahead, determined to maintain her resolve.

More than thirty minutes into the party, Ana was leisurely sipping her first drink. The music had picked up in volume, but it was still quiet enough to have a conversation. Gradually, members of her team rose from the table, drawn to the dance floor by the infectious beat. Left alone, Ana observed the crowd. So far this evening she had briefly spoken with Chanel from Spain earlier, who had now also joined the dancers. Konstrakta wasn’t ready to dance just yet. She wasn’t the greatest dancer and needed a few drinks to get moving. After all, most of her choreography on stage consisted of sitting on a chair and washing her hands. She had to smile slightly at the thought. The whole performance probably seemed so strange to most people that it was also fascinating again. And definitely just right for Konstrakta.

Lost in thought and midway through a sip, Ana was startled as someone abruptly and without a warning took the seat beside her. She almost choked on her drink and coughed when, without turning around, she realised out of the corner of her eye that the person who had just sat down was not one of her team members, but the woman with the short, straight blonde hair. Cornelia simply patted her on the back without hesitation or inhibition, which Konstrakta found presumptuous in view of her distant acquaintance. But as she was on the verge of suffocating, she couldn’t even protest. Catching her breath, Ana was a mix of annoyance and resigned acceptance. Great, she couldn’t have made a better first impression in front of her that evening. And yet she had planned everything so well. But Cornelia not batting an eyelid didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Also her lack of regard for personal space, except for that one apologetic moment during their walk, seemed characteristic of her impulsive nature. So Ana wasn’t even surprised.