Chapter 3 Dream

I grin. Samantha complimented my decor, and I wish she was here to hear it. Well, anything. Even if I'm the only one who hears the words of gratitude, a work well done is a job well done.

I watch the party from my position behind a wall, invisible but able to see everything. When guests arrive, they comment on the mansion's built-in fixtures, the centerpieces, and the window masks. For the first time since this work began, I let myself unwind because everything is going smoothly.

The masquerade ball is still looking fantastic an hour in. There are no dropped trays or drinks, and nothing has broken. I came up with the menu myself, and I've heard several comments about the meal. This party is proceeding according to plan, and I'm proud of that. The last time I saw Samantha, even with her constantly pinched face, she appeared delighted. I mentally record that as a minor triumph. It's challenging to impress the challenging hostess, but I believe I've done it.

My back is suddenly grazed by a hand. I look around, thinking I'll see one of my staff, but all I see is a wall of black. Hold on a minute. A tall, masked man's wide chest is level with my eyes. He shades his full face, in contrast to the other visitors who just have their eyes covered by their disguises. I see deep blue eyes and a square, powerful jaw, but nothing else.

Without saying a word, the enigmatic man skillfully leads me into a waltz as the music reaches a crescendo. My first reaction is to distance myself from him. He keeps me firmly in place, but I'm the help, so I shouldn't be dancing. Samantha would be outraged beyond belief if I tried to leave right now since it would create a scene. Instead, his powerful arms gracefully and fluidly lead me around the room as I glide along. My heart is racing, and I'm taking shallow breaths. Who is this enigmatic outsider?

A tiny orchestra is positioned in the back of the ballroom, and we follow the music as it flows. After all, without string instruments to serve as the dancing backdrop, a masquerade ball wouldn't be complete, and Mr. Fedrickson was prepared to spend the money. A CD simply doesn't have the same impact as a DJ playing the wrong song. Samantha and I probably only agreed on one thing: the music had to be performed live.

The lengthy instrumental song comes to a conclusion, and my enigmatic dance companion lets go of me. As he bows to me, he takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips for a soft kiss. I feel compelled to curtsy, but doing so would just make me look foolish. Instead, I give him a feeble smile, reasoning that it's better to do nothing than to try and look foolish.

When my weird partner lets go of my hand, he straightens his coat and gets up. His eyes look familiar when they contact mine, but I'm not sure where I've seen them before.

The man lifts his mask silently, his stunning, eerie blue eyes staring at me with unrelenting determination. His impeccably made tux completes his princely appearance, which includes a chiseled face and coal-black hair. Even down to the dimple in his cheek and his strong shoulders, he appears just like the photos I've seen. He also appears to fit nicely with his opulent surroundings. After all, it's his house and party.

The man rumbles, "Hello," maintaining eye contact with me. As though we hadn't already been introduced in the most personal way possible, he reaches out and shakes my hand with his right. While a handshake is official, dancing and a hand kiss are passionate and lovely. I can't think of what I should do, so I extend my hand to shake his. This is not how I had envisioned meeting the man will unfold.

With ease, he introduces himself as Pedro Fedrickson. "Are you, too?"

Oh, no. How should I respond? I'm the assistance, after all, and dancing wasn't my job. So, should I tell the truth or fabricate a story? Since this is my dream... But will Mr. Fedrickson expect me to meet all of his needs if he knows I work for the company?