Page 58 of Secrets of the Six

I sigh. "I can try."

The clock chimes seven times. If I don't leave now, I will be making a very late entrance to the opera. "I have to go." I grab my jacket from the back of my seat. "Are we ok?"

She nods. "We're fine." She snags my empty glass and dunks it in the water-filled sink. "Dateless tonight? Not befitting an eligible Don." She teases.

I roll my shoulders back and mutter incoherent curses under my breath. She's right. I can't show up dateless. I scan the bar until my sights settle on an attractive woman sitting alone in a booth by the window. She appears to be waiting for someone, but I care little for who might be running late. His loss is my opportunity.

I knock on the bar twice, drawing Carmen's gaze. "Tell Shaw I'll be back."

"Will do."

I tug my arms through my jacket and sift through the customers until I'm standing in front of her. She's dressed nicely and has a fur stole around her shoulders. She's not an elite, but she's certainly good at pretending to be. She'll suffice.

"Good evening, Señorita," I smile when she looks up at me.

"Good evening, Don Rafael." She blushes, and I'm pleased to forgo extensive introductions.

"Oh, so you know who I am?"

She chuckles. "I don't think there's a soul living in Orlencia who does not know who you are, Don Rafael."

"Forgive my forwardness, Señorita…?

"Ramona," she infuses a sensuality in her voice. "Ramona Jimenez."

"Ramona," I take her hand and press her knuckles against my lips. "What do you have planned this evening?"

She smiles flirtatiously and it makes me queasy having to flirt in return. "I suppose whatever you have planned for us."

She's a naughty girl indeed. If my thoughts weren't consumed by Ines – and the strict ban I have on sleeping with someone without knowledge of my Venturan blood – I might be taken by her. She's pretty to be sure with her light brown hair, curious hazel eyes, and curvaceous figure, but even her bold flirtation isn't enough to truly tempt me. But she doesn't need to know that.

"Have you ever been to the opera, Ramona?"

Chapter 20

Ines

The opera house was renovated after the Soberano assumed power and with his generous funding and meticulous requests of the architects, the Teatro Castillo was named in his honor. An enormous statue of him stands guard outside the theatre welcoming the elite patrons to enjoy a night of grand entertainment in the gold dome building.

Stepping out of the carriage, Rogelio takes my hand and guides me up the front steps and inside the theatre. The interior must rival the palace in splendor. All tales and rumors of the lavishness of the opera house are true. Marble floors usher us to a grand staircase lined with lush, red carpet and handcrafted marble banisters. Everywhere I turn, there is gold. How the Soberano acquired such wealth is beyond me, but he certainly ensured this landmark would remind generations to come of his supreme reign.

Rogelio leads me to the third floor, which coincidentally happens to be the highest level, and with a warm grin and affectionate squeeze of my hand, tugs me down the corridor laden with gold sconces, immaculate artwork, and heavy draperies concealing the private boxes of the elite.

"Which one is yours?" I ask as we head toward the end of the hall.

"This one." He pulls the curtain back to the last booth.

I slip inside and I gasp at the grandeur of the auditorium. The infamous crystal chandelier dangles from the ceiling which boasts the most beautiful painted mural of what I believe heaven would look like if I could ever sneak my way inside. How ironic to have white winged angels soaring through fluffy clouds while the winged men and women who walked our streets were put to the sword. Either the Soberano has a sick sense of humor, or he hasn't truly taken note of the artist's meticulously crafted scene.

Down below, the general seating appears comfortable, but pales in comparison to the thirteen boxes reserved for elite patrons. Rogelio's box – or should I say, the Murrieta box – is closest to the stage and with what little knowledge I possess on such matters, I believe for someone to own this particular booth costs the most money.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." Rogelio motions for me to claim one of the two tufted red velvet cushioned chairs.

I smile and sit in the chair closest to the stage, running the pads of my fingers across the smooth, golden armrests. The likelihood I will ever find myself in attendance at the theatre again is slim, so I'll make the most of the experience while I can.

"Are you thirsty?" He claims the second chair and rests his hand atop mine.

I fight the urge to flick his hand away, instead focusing on his offer of a beverage. "I would love a drink."