Chapter 293
The gala officially began at six in the evening. Since Andrew and Dylan were not there to dance, they found a spot to sit down and sample the gourmet offerings while keeping an eye on Finley and Yvonne’s movements.
The West End gala attracted Jayrodale’s elite society, and the dining area showcased nothing. but premium delicacies.
“There are some real beauties here, like that Serena,” Dylan said admiringly. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know such a sultry woman.”
Andrew gave him an odd look and said, “You’re sick–you’ve got the Casanova Syndrome.”
“Mr. Lloyd, is this Casanova Syndrome serious?” Dylan asked anxiously, knowing that Andrew was a brilliant physician whose diagnoses were never to be taken lightly..
Andrew peeled a lobster tail, popped it in his mouth, and shook his head. “This condition is usually incurable.”
Incurable?” Dylan’s face turned pale. “Mr. Lloyd, am I going to die?”
“You won’t die,” Andrew laughed, making Dylan sigh with relief.
“Mr. Lloyd, I’ve never heard of this Casanova Syndrome before. Is it real?” Dylan asked curiously.
Andrew glanced at him and replied casually, “This condition has existed since ancient times, just unnamed until now. The symptoms include lusting after other men’s wives and having peculiar tastes.”
“That’s considered a disease?” Dylan was dumbfounded. “I bet 90% of men worldwide have this condition.”
Andrew shook his head with a smile, “I wouldn’t know about that, but I don’t have it.”
Dylan grinned. “You don’t have it now, Mr. Lloyd, but wait until you’re in your 30s or 40s! After all, other men’s wives always seem more appealing than your own.”
Andrew was speechless. Over the past few days, he realized that despite Dylan’s rough exterior, he was quite the ladies‘ man underneath. It was likely that Dylan, like Atlas, had his fair share of mistresses.
Nonetheless, Andrew did not care about such things. It would have been more surprising if Dylan, as a local power player, was completely pure and innocent.
“My apologies for keeping everyone waiting,” Natasha announced as she made her grand entrance. “Please, enjoy yourselves!”
She was dressed elegantly in a designer evening gown that was both alluring and sophisticated. All eyes were immediately drawn to her, particularly her curves, though she
maintained an air of dignified aloofness befitting the queen of West End,
“Madam Vostokoff, may I have the honor of your first dance?” Finley approached her with a
smile.
Natasha batted her eyelashes and replied with a sile, “Mr. Moore, don’t you have Ms. Puller as your partner? Wouldn’t she be upset if you asked a widow like me to dance?”
Finley replied shanielessly, “No worries, I can dance with you first, then with her.”
Though still smiling, Natasha declined, “Although you look quite dashing tonight, Mr. Moore, 1 already have another dance partner in mind.”
Finley’s grin turned mischievous. “Who else here is worthy of dancing with you besides me? Surely you must be joking?”
Before Natasha could respond, several voices chimed in to flatter Finley.
“That’s right! No one is more qualified to dance with Madam Vostokoff tonight than Mr. Moore.”
“Finley is young, wealthy, and skilled in martial arts–not to mention his extraordinary background. He’s the only perfect match to be Madam Vostokoff’s partner!”
“Madam Vostokoff is a queen in her own right, and Mr. Moore is a dashing prince. Together, they’d be nothing short of perfection!”
Dylan spat out his drink and muttered, “These bootlickers really have no shame or principles when it comes to sucking up to Finley.”
Andrew chuckled, noting how many people were eager to curry favor with Finley.
