Camile knew how to recognize men used to winning.
Victor Ventura had the kind of confidence that didn't need to be announced. It was in the way he sat, in the calm with which he held someone's gaze, and above all, in the irritating certainty that any woman would eventually give in to his advances and be convinced to become just another woman he'd take to bed.
The problem was that Camile had no intention of making things easy for him.
She slowly turned her glass between her fingers as she watched him.
—Do you always talk this much about yourself?
Victor arched an eyebrow.
—I was waiting for you to ask questions.
—I don't ask questions about things that don't interest me.
—So I'm not interesting?
—I'm still evaluating that.
He let out a short laugh.
—You like provoking people.
—You like assuming you're being provoked.
Victor moved a little closer to the table.
—Is there a difference?
—A big one.
—What is it?
Camile took a sip of wine before answering.
—When a woman provokes a man, he usually realizes it. When he thinks he's being provoked because he can't get her attention, that's a different problem.
Nicole turned her face away to hide her smile.
Vanessa made no such effort.
—I'm loving this —she commented.
Camile shot her friend a look.
—Nobody asked.
—I know.
Victor laughed.
The night was becoming much more interesting than he had imagined. He liked it—liked it a lot. He felt something in his pants throbbing, and he knew she'd be a delicious meal.
He looked at Camile again.
—Do you do this with everyone?
—Do what?
—Always answer as if you're five steps ahead.
—Maybe I am.
—Or maybe you're trying to act difficult.
Her smile vanished.
Not out of irritation.
Out of interest.
—Do you really believe a woman has to pretend disinterest to be difficult?
Victor held her gaze.
—No.
—Then?
—I think some people like to play with danger.
—And do you consider yourself dangerous?
—Depends who's asking.
—I am.
He leaned forward.
—Then yes.
Camile let out a low laugh.
—What a cocky bastard.
—You've already said that.
—Because it's still true.
Victor didn't look away.
—And you're still here.
She noticed the small triumph on his face.
She didn't like it.
Or maybe she liked it more than she should have.
—I'm here for my friends.
—Of course.
—It's true.
—I believe you.
—You don't look like you do.
—Because I don't.
Camile narrowed her eyes.
—Do you have trouble accepting that a woman might not be interested in you?
—I don't have any trouble with that.
—Yes, you do.
—Then tell me why you're still talking to me.
The question hung between them.
Camile didn't answer immediately.
Because it was an inconvenient question.
She could simply say that she was having fun. That the conversation was interesting and that the man was attractive, maybe. But none of those answers seemed sufficient.
Victor waited.
She finally lifted her glass.
—Because you haven't become unbearable enough for me to leave yet.
He smiled.
—So I still have time.
—Don't waste it.
Camile's friends had already noticed.
There was no way they couldn't.
The exchange of looks between the two was becoming obvious.
Nicole leaned discreetly toward Vanessa.
—They're flirting.
—I know.
—Camile's going to deny it.
—Obviously.
—Do you think she'll leave with him?
Vanessa looked at her friend.
—I think it depends on who wins this battle of wills.
Nicole laughed.
—Then nobody's sleeping tonight.
The two went back to talking, leaving Camile and Victor immersed in their private game.
He tried to find out something about her.
She dodged every question.
—What do you do for a living? —Victor asked.
—A lot of things.
—That's not a profession.
—It works for me.
—Businesswoman?
Camile smiled.
—Maybe.
—Lawyer?
—Maybe.
—Doctor?
—Definitely not.
—Teacher?
—You're getting desperate.
Victor laughed.
—I'm just trying to figure out who you are.
—And why does that matter?
—Because you showed up here, sat down at that table, and managed to make me curious in less than an hour.
Camile held his gaze.
—That sounds like your problem.
—Maybe it is.
—Then solve it.
—I don't want to.
She stared at him for a few seconds.
Victor realized he had succeeded.
For a tiny fraction of a second, she had lost her answer.
And that gave him an inexplicable satisfaction.
—Are you always so controlled? —he asked.
—Almost always.
—And when you're not?
—You won't find out.
—Are you challenging me?
—No.
She stood up.
—I'm warning you.
Victor followed her movement with his eyes.
—Leaving?
—I'm going to dance.
He stood up immediately.
—Alone?
Camile looked at him.
—I can manage.
—I didn't ask if you could.
—Then what did you ask?
—If I could join you.
She fell silent.
Victor held out his hand.
Camile looked at his hand.
Then at his face.
—Do you always get what you want?
—Not always.
—And when you don't?
—I try again.
She smiled.
—That explains a lot.
Then she placed her hand in his.
The dance floor was crowded, but Victor found enough room to lead her.
The music had changed.
The rhythm was slower.
Camile placed one hand on his shoulder.
Victor held her waist firmly without crossing any boundaries.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
It was strange.
Because they had spent the last hour provoking each other.
Now they were too close to hide the tension.
Camile could smell his cologne.
Victor noticed her breathing change slightly.
They both knew.
Their closeness wasn't innocent.
—You dance well —he commented.
—So do you.
—Were you expecting me to be bad?
—I expected you to be worse.
—Do you enjoy hurting my self-esteem?
—You have enough self-esteem to survive it.
He smiled.
—I think I'm starting to like you.
Camile arched an eyebrow.
—Careful.
—About what?
—You barely know me.
—That's exactly what bothers me.
She moved a little closer.
—What bothers you?
—I don't know anything about you.
—Maybe that's for the best.
—For you?
—For both of us.
Victor grew serious.
—Do you think this could become something?
Camile looked away.
—No.
—Are you sure?
—Absolutely.
He moved a little closer.
Their faces were dangerously close.
Camile felt her heart race.
She didn't like it.
She was always in control of her own emotions.
Always.
But in that moment, with Victor so close, breathing normally seemed more difficult.
His eyes dropped to her lips for an instant.
Then returned to her eyes.
Camile noticed.
And didn't pull away.
Victor tilted his face.
An inch.
Maybe two.
She remained still.
When their lips were almost touching, Camile turned her face away.
—Too fast.
Victor stopped.
He smiled.
—Did you get scared?
She looked at him again.
—Of you?
—Yes.
—Don't be ridiculous.
—Then why did you pull away?
—Because I wanted to.
He laughed.
—Of course.
—Don't doubt me.
—I don't.
But his eyes said something else.
And Camile knew it.
They returned to the table a few minutes later.
Nicole immediately raised her eyebrows.
—Interesting.
Camile picked up her glass.
—Don't start.
—I didn't say anything.
—Your face did.
Vanessa laughed.
Victor remained beside Camile.
—Are your friends always like this?
—Worse.
—I like them.
—Don't get used to them.
Nicole raised her glass.
—A toast to the two of you.
Camile frowned.
—No.
—To what?
Nicole smiled.
—To the chemistry.
—There is no chemistry.
Victor answered before she could:
—There is.
Camile turned her face toward him.
—You're so cocky.
—And you're still here.
—Because I'm still having fun.
—With me?
She hesitated.
Victor noticed.
—Think before you answer.
Camile smiled.
—You think you're far too important.
—But you didn't answer.
—Maybe I'm having fun with the situation.
—What situation?
—This one.
She gestured subtly between them.
—You trying to figure out who I am.
Victor moved his face closer.
—And you enjoying keeping me curious.
Camile didn't answer.
Because he was right.
Later, the two of them left the table to get some air.
The establishment's balcony was practically empty.
The city glittered before them.
Camile rested her hands on the railing.
Victor stood beside her.
—Still not going to tell me your last name?
—No.
—Not even your profession?
—No.
—Your age?
She turned her face.
—That's curiosity abuse.
—So you're older than you look?
—Maybe.
—Younger?
—Maybe.
—Do you answer everything like that?
—Only when I want to irritate someone.
Victor let out a laugh.
—It's working.
—Good.
He looked at her.
Camile held his gaze.
The moment felt different from the ones before.
No friends, no music—just the two of them.
Victor took a step toward her.
—Can I ask you one last question?
—You said that before.
—This time I'm serious.
—Ask.
—Why are you looking at me like that?
Camile took a deep breath.
—Like what?
—Like you want to kiss me and send me away at the same time.
She smiled.
—Maybe I want both.
Victor fell silent.
He moved closer again.
This time, Camile didn't pull away.
Their faces drew close.
His gaze fell to her lips.
She did the same.
For a moment, it seemed inevitable.
But neither of them moved forward.
Victor slowly exhaled.
Then he murmured, far too close:
—You're trouble.
Camile lifted her eyes to him.
The smile that appeared on her lips was small, confident, and provocative.
—And you seem far too arrogant to run from it.
Victor smiled.
And in that moment, neither of them had any idea that he would remember that line many times afterward.
Because that night there was no love.
No promises.
No planned future.
There were only two people far too proud to admit that they were already far too interested in each other.
And that was much more dangerous.