Romeo + Juliet | s.r

Chapter 15

Spencer's POV:

I entered the magnificent hall. Gold chandeliers hung high from the ceiling, gold tablecloths and fancy chairs surrounded the stage. On the stage were exotic dancers, wearing gold lace gloves and minimal but expensive clothing. The waiters dressed in fancy black and white aprons, holding glass trays with fancy wine glasses.

Businessmen sat at the tables, eyeing the exotic dancers even when their wives were seated right beside them. Not caring if they were subtle or not. In their hands was pricey wine.

Alcoholics, but with class.

I showed the receptionist my invite before putting in back in the front pocket of my black suit. It was probably the most expensive suit I owned. But of course, I still looked underdressed.

I knew how these men were. Money before anything. Most of them probably had some participation in money laundering or illegal deals on the black market.

But that's not what I was here for today. Emily had been tipped off by Dubanowski that Giovanni would be attending tonight and luckily, Emily and I were prepared to catch him. If we could get a confession saying he pushed Peyton, we could put him behind bars.

Taking a seat at an empty table near the back, I looked around for a sign of Emily. What is taking her so long? Is she flirting with Hotch again? I sighed, waiting impatiently. We had planned to arrive separately so as to not arouse suspicion.

A few minutes later, she walked through the extravagant glass doors, adjusting her dress slightly. She'd shown up wearing a long black lace dress, with a slit starting midthigh. Her dress trailed behind her as she walked.

Discreetly, she sat down two seats away so she was across from me. I glanced up at the waiter who was making his way to our table with champagne in his hand. Shaking my head, I politely declined. I needed to be clear headed for this mission. I'd been chasing him for a month now, almost two. Stupidly letting him escape once too.

"Merci. C'est terriblement nécessaire." Giving the waiter a flirty smile and grabbing two glasses at once, both for her, Emily shooed him off.

"So, have you seen him yet?" She asked, taking a sip from the liquor in her hand. "Ugh. This might have cost thousands but it surely tastes flavourless." Emily's face scrunched up in disgust before setting the bland drink on the table and leaning in closer to me.

"Nope, no sign of him yet." I straightened my suit, suddenly feeling anxious. What if he doesn't show up? Will I ever catch him?

As if reading my wild train of thoughts, Emily assured me, "Oh he'll be here. Trust me. Based on what we profiled, he doesn't seem like the type to miss an event like this."

I so badly hoped she was right.

The function continued on for a while, men dancing with women who weren't their wives. Emily looked like she was internally crying, seeing how the women sat alone at their assigned tables, watching and taking in their husbands' every move. It was crazy, the amount of anger someone could hold in themselves without actually bursting, but eventually it does happen. And it gets ugly.

These women couldn't even communicate with their husbands before they started to threaten everyone these women held dear. Men, like the ones who are present here today, don't deal with confrontation very well. Mostly because since they've had everything handed to them ever since they could talk, they didn't exactly understand the meaning of "no".

"And I'll be yours until the sun no longer shines, yours until the poets run out of rhymes..." I could hear the faint humming of Baby I'm Yours by Arctic Monkeys coming from Emily. Peyton was the one who introduced her to that song, it was her favourite.