Chapter 298: Club pt7

Gradually, the stiffness in my body started to ease. I shifted my weight again, this time letting my hips move just a little with the rhythm instead of keeping them completely still.

It still wasn’t graceful. But it was better.Chiara nodded approvingly.

“There you go.” She praise and I almost forgot how many people were around us.

Almost until my eyes drifted toward the bar. Michael was still standing there.

His whiskey glass rested loosely in his hand, but he wasn’t talking to anyone. He was watching.

Us.

The moment our eyes met, something nervous twisted in my stomach and I quickly looked away again.

Why was he still looking? Had he been watching the whole time? The thought made my movements stiffen again.

Chiara noticed immediately. “Hey,” she said, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Stay here.” I blinked.

“What?”

“You keep looking over there like someone’s grading your performance.” I sighed quietly.

“He’s watching.”

“So?”

“So it’s weird.” Chiara glanced toward the bar.

Then she smirked.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“That man is absolutely watching you.”

My face warmed.

“Chiara.”

“What? I’m just observing.”

She turned back to me and grabbed my hands again.

“Forget him.” Easier said than done. But she pulled me back into the rhythm of the music before my thoughts could spiral too far.

“Follow me,” she said, moving her shoulders again.

I copied her.

Left.

Right.

Then again.

This time, it felt a little more natural.

My grip on the lemonade glass loosened slightly as my body relaxed.

Chiara grinned when she saw it.

“There it is,” she said.

“See? You’re not hopeless.” I laughed under my breath. And for the first time since stepping onto the dance floor, the tension in my chest finally started to fade.

For a while, we just kept dancing. The music shifted into another song, the rhythm slightly slower but heavier, the bass rolling through the air like a steady pulse.

Lights swept over the crowd in long arcs of color, flashing over faces, hands, glasses held in the air. Chiara moved like she had been born on dance floors.

Her hips followed the beat naturally, shoulders loose, hair bouncing slightly every time she spun or laughed at something someone nearby said.

Every few seconds she would glance at me to make sure I was still following along. And surprisingly….. I was.

Not perfectly, obviously. But the stiffness that had been in my body earlier had started to melt away little by little.

I shifted my weight from side to side again, letting my shoulders move with the music the way she had shown me earlier. My hips followed a little more easily this time.

It still felt strange. But not awkward anymore.

I lifted the lemonade to my lips and took another small sip, the cold citrus cutting through the warm air of the crowded dance floor before lowering the glass again.

Chiara noticed. “You’re dancing with a drink,” she said, amused.

“Multitasking,” I replied. She laughed and spun once, her hands lifting briefly above her head before she leaned closer again.

“There you go,” she said approvingly. And I realized something.

I was actually… enjoying it. The thought came quietly, almost surprising me.

The music. The lights. The movement of the crowd. The way the energy of the room seemed to wrap around everything and pull you along with it whether you wanted to resist or not.

Clubs were… fun. At least the dancing part.My lips curved slightly at the thought. Why hadn’t I come before?

Why had Chiara not even brought up sneaking to a club before? Maybe because every single time she brought something similar I had always found an excuse.

Too busy. Too tired. Too much work. Too loud. Too crowded. Too something.

Now, standing in the middle of the dance floor with the music vibrating through my chest, I wondered if maybe I had been wrong all along.

Another laugh escaped me quietly as I shifted with the beat again. At the edge of the crowd, I could still see the bar.

And Michael. He hadn’t moved much. His eyes were still on us. On me.

Our gazes met again. But this time I didn’t look away immediately.

Then Chiara bumped my shoulder lightly and spun me half a step to the left. “Focus,” she teased.

“Sorry.” But strangely enough, Michael watching didn’t bother me as much anymore.

The nervousness from earlier had faded. Maybe because the music was louder now. Or maybe because I was actually enjoying myself too much to care.

I lifted my drink again, taking another quick sip before lowering it and letting my shoulders fall back into the rhythm of the music.

The crowd shifted around us constantly.

People brushed past our arms, someone laughed loudly nearby, a couple spun through the space beside us before disappearing into the sea of moving bodies.

Yet something felt… strange. It was subtle. But sudden.

The kind of feeling you get when you realize someone is looking at you. Not just a casual glance. Something heavier. My movements slowed slightly.

At first I assumed it was Michael again.

I turned my head toward the bar. He was still there. Still watching. But that wasn’t it. The feeling didn’t come from that direction.

My brow furrowed slightly. The music kept playing, Chiara still dancing beside me, but my eyes began moving slowly across the room.

Scanning the crowd. The tables. The VIP section above. Then further.

Toward the darker edge of the club where the lights didn’t reach as brightly.

And that’s when I saw him. At the far corner of the room, slightly elevated from the main floor, was a small lounge area with low couches and a dark glass table.

Most of it was in shadow.

But the man sitting there was impossible to miss.

Even from a distance. My breath caught slightly.

Romeo.

He sat back against the couch like he had been there the entire time, one arm resting along the backrest, the other holding a glass I couldn’t quite make out in the dim light.

The flashing club lights passed over his face every few seconds.

And each time they did…..his eyes were on me.