Ella
This is such a bad idea. I know that and yet, I can't seem to stop myself from making the trek up the front steps of the elaborate antebellum structure of the house before me.
Despite the pillars covered in layers of vines and fake spiders and webs, the southern-style mansion is still beautiful. No one could mistake it for anything but the kind of place someone wealthy would live. Though that's not why I've come.
I came for him.
Reaching up, I ensure my mask is still in place.
My dress is a big, voluminous thing with the neckline practically tugging at my breasts, dragging them lower as the lace edge threatens to pull my nipples free and flash everyone around me.
With a sharp yank, I pull the dress up, only for it to fall right back into place.
I should've spent more time on making sure it actually fit than worrying about the authenticity of the ruffles on the bottom layer of the skirts.
I hadn't been able to help myself, though. If there's anything I know Jacob will appreciate, it’s historical accuracy. He is a history teacher, after all, and this house is his family's.
"Welcome." I nearly jump out of my skin as a man dressed in a butler's tux appears within the double doorway leading into the mansion.
Unlike the men and women currently coming up the steps and moving past him, the butler doesn't wear a mask.
A quick glance around tells me none of the staff are.
I suppose that's to separate them out from the partygoers. "May I take your shawl, my lady?"
Blinking, I glance down at the gauzy stretch of fabric covering my bared shoulders.
It’s far too hot, even though summer is drawing to an end, for me to wear it, but I hadn’t managed to convince myself not to put it on as I left home.
Anxiety claws at my throat, but I reach for it nonetheless, removing the fabric and allowing the man to take it as I move farther into the foyer of the great house.
Turning in a circle as people mill around, I take it all in.
The place is beautiful and well maintained, but then, why wouldn't it be?
The rumor mill suggests that the Colton family has more money than God and that they always have.
I don't care about their money, though. I don't care about what they can or can't do with their wealth. All I care about is Jacob Colton.
After several long moments of scanning the room, the staff begins to urge all of the partygoers into a new room and like good little sheep, we follow.
My heels click against the tiled floor of the mansion as I follow the crowd into a ballroom with massive lit chandeliers and walls of mirrors that make the space seem never ending.
Where is he? The dress's corset digs into my sides, making my breath a bit uneven as I walk past the men stationed on the sides of the room. Eyes follow me, but I ignore them.
"Excuse me, my lady." I stop as a man appears before me. He's taller than me, but at five-foot-two, that's not a great feat. "Do you have a partner for this evening?"
My lips part, but words stick to my throat.
My hands start to tremble and I shove them against the folds of my dress at my sides to keep him from noticing.
Shit. This was a bad idea. I never should have come here.
Panic is an ugly, terrible thing, clawing at my insides, shredding my confidence and dignity until there's nothing left intact.
Little Miss Introvert. Mousy. Quiet. Wallflower.
That is what I am—who I am.
Why did I ever think a mask would change that?
"Yes, she does." A strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into the hard frame of a man's side at those words. My head snaps up and my breath seizes in my throat.
Oh God … it's him. Even if I were blind, I would recognize the deep masculine purr of his voice.
Since I can see quite well, thanks to the contacts I put in before coming here, I allow myself the grace of actually taking in how he looks.
Gone are the slacks and professional casual button-downs of his teacher's garb; in their place is a prince straight from a fairy tale.
"Oh, my apologies," the other man says. His voice murmurs something else, but I'm too focused on Jacob to catch it.
The underside of his jaw is coated in a shadow of a growing beard.
His shoulders are slim, but no less muscular than the players of McAlister High School's football team.
When his head shifts and he glances down, icy blue eyes bore into me from behind a gold-plated mask. No mask could hide his beauty, though.
God, I'm a fucking creep. Dressing up on for his family’s annual masquerade, putting on this elaborate disguise, and showing up here all because I knew he'd be in attendance. A stupid mask can’t hide everything.
Surely, he knows who I am. No doubt he came over here to save the other man from making a horrible mistake.
I close my eyes and breathe shallowly as I await his anger. To my utter shock, it doesn't come.
"I hope you don't mind," he says, his lips twitching in amusement. "But the moment I saw you, I couldn't help myself. I wasn't going to let someone else claim your first dance."
My eyes pop back open. "F-first dance?"
Jacob Colton releases my waist and takes a step back, turning in a circle before me as he bows low like any gentleman of centuries past might have. It hits me then. He doesn’t know who I am. Maybe I can do this.
“Would you do me the honor of being your first dance partner, Miss…?” Those piercing crystalline eyes of his lift once more as he lets the question of my name drift.
“Ella,” I lie, lifting my hand to his. “You can call me Ella.” Just like Cinderella … and like the princess, at midnight tonight, everything will end. For this one instant, though, for this one moment, I can have my prince and I can enjoy being with him—even if he has no idea who I am.