Page 90 of Be With Me
It. Was. Glorious.
I had no plans to take it off at any point tonight. The people here had no clue who I was, and I'd made Eliza promise not to out me.
I moved behind the backdrop and walked down a narrow path that was there for anyone who wanted to go directly to the museum entrance. The venue, a beautifully restored historic building from the 1940s, had originally been a family estate for one of the city’s wealthiest dynasties, the Starks. Now, it was an intimate art museum with collections that rotated a few times a year.
My black velvet gown rustled around me as I stepped inside the covered courtyard where the welcome cocktails were taking place. I picked up a flute of rosé with a maraschino cherry at the bottom and found a quiet spot near the edge of the courtyard.
From here, I had a clear view of the space. Guests were slowly trickling in dressed in a kaleidoscope of flowing fabrics, intricate embroidery, and elaborate masks.
I loved it.
A grin tugged on my lips. I was so glad I'd listened to Fabi and Eliza and agreed to come. I planned to spend the evening melting into the background and feasting my eyes on the spectacle around me.
No reporters. No interviews. No speeches.
My smile faltered when I caught my reflection in one of the mirrors hanging on the wall. My hand was resting just above my chest, my fingers mindlessly tracing back and forth over the diamonds resting against my skin.
Romolo’sdiamonds.
It was the necklace I'd sworn I’d never wear. And I’d meant it. It had stayed tucked away in that drawer right up until tonight.
The stylist in me hadn’t been able to ignore how perfectly it complemented the pearl-trimmed neckline of my dress. Just before I'd left, I'd tried it on, and, against my better judgment, I'd given in.
It was an impulsive decision. One I was already regretting. Now, every time I looked in the mirror, I’d think of him.
Brilliant, Mia.Tonight was supposed to help you get himoutof your head.
I sighed. Guess I’d just have to avoid checking my reflection for the rest of the evening.
* * *
Candles flickered in the centerpieces, tuxedoed servers balanced tiny espresso cups on trays, and a five-piece band played a waltz from a small stage in the corner of the ballroom.
Eliza was already on the dance floor with a partner, along with a few other couples. I was still finishing dessert. When we first sat down for dinner, she'd introduced me to the people at our table as her stylist, Mia. Apart from a magazine editor who seemed vaguely curious, no one appeared to recognize me.
Exactly how I wanted it.
“Coffee, miss?”
“I’m alright, thank you,” I said to the server at the same time that my gaze caught on a familiar silhouette on the other side of the ballroom.
Is that…?
I blinked, and he was gone, lost behind the sea of masks and Venetian gowns moving across the dance floor.
No, it couldn’t be Romolo. I was most likely imagining things again. The grueling schedule of the last few weeks had done a number on me. I could have sworn I’d seen Romolo walk by the studio on more than one occasion, but by the time I'd made my way over to the window to get a closer look, there was no one there.
“You don’t have a drink,” Erik, the celebrity hairstylist from LA who was seated next to me, said. “Would you like to grab one at the bar?”
I forced myself to give him my full attention and smiled. “That sounds great.” Was it a good idea to drink when I was already mildly questioning my grasp on reality? Probably not, but screw it. At least I could distract myself with Erik’s company for a little while.
Erik got me a glass of red wine and a gin and tonic for himself. We moved to one of the high-top tables scattered on the edges of the dance floor where he began telling me about some of the projects he’d worked on this year. Despite trying so hard to stay focused, my attention was split. I tried to follow what he was saying. I really did. But my gaze kept being pulled back to the faces around the room.
The dark-haired man I’d seen was wearing a mask. It hid most of his face. Yes, he had a strong jaw, but Romolo wasn’t the only man who had one of those. He also wasn’t the only tall man with broad shoulders and?—
“Mia.”
My eyes snapped to Erik. Shoot, did he ask me something? I was about to fess up that I missed it, when he smiled and said, “Would you like to dance?”
