Chapter 6
ENZO
What just happened?
I've been hit by a whirlwind or a tsunami or something. I stand there shell-shocked, looking at her as the last glimpse of bright yellow disappears into a forest of plumes and decadent costumes. I hesitate, wondering whether to wait for her here, or to wait inside the banqueting hall.
This stranger, this vision in the brightest yellow in a flash of chaos and color, has now vanished as quickly as she came.
She noticed me.
Of course I noticed her.
I'd have to be blind to miss her in that yellow dress. She was standing alone at one of the tables, enjoying the canapés and champagne. Not caring who was around, and not the slightest bit interested in working the room.
I'd completely forgotten about Luca Valizar. I purse my lips, looking around, feeling a little annoyed. I came here hoping to meet him, to catch a glimpse of him, to maybe hear his arrival being announced, but this woman stole my attention.
What if I've missed Luca?
I’m not too bothered about that now. I can try to reach out to him tomorrow. I look around, hoping to see a wisp of yellow because I want to stay here now for a woman whose name I don't know.
She doesn't know mine.
My earlier encounter with the Austrian woman, the one who was waiting for her partner, and had no hesitation in approaching me, reveals just how different this teacher is compared to most of the women I meet.
Most of the women I meet are beautiful and sophisticated, but none of them make me feel anything.
The kindergarten teacher with her crooked eyelashes, her love of food, her overflowing personality and complete lack of pretense, she's like no one I've ever met before.
She didn't seek me out because she knew who I was. She wasn’t trying to get my interest. She poked me in the arm and said, You are alive.
Who does that?
No wonder I forgot about Luca.
The crowd starts to thin and everyone moves towards the banqueting hall. I find myself looking forward to sitting next to her at dinner.
“Enzo, is it you?”
A man dressed as a Venetian nobleman pokes his big, fat face close, examining my mask, trying to work out if it’s really me. I don’t want him to recognize me and I find myself wondering what the teacher would do.
She’d pretend she had amnesia.
“It is you!” He slaps my shoulder.
“Caspar. How are you?”
Caspar Entwistle is a billionaire private-equity investor whose fund is considering coming in on one of our European projects.
“It is you, isn't it?”
His face is two inches from mine. I step back, my muscles tightening under my mask. I force a smile.
“It's me.”
It's just as well that I'm wearing my mask otherwise Caspar would notice my less than enthusiastic reaction.
“We need to talk about the European deal.”
I internally roll my eyes at him, even though I pretend to be polite. Business is business, even if the guy is a boring old fart, I have no choice but to put up with him. He takes my arm and ushers me forward.
“You'll sit with us for dinner. We can catch up.”
I can hardly back out now and find myself listening to him gush about what a splendid event this is, am I here with anyone? How's business? How's my father? He tells me I should look him up next time I'm in Florida.
“Gloria is here, and she'd love to see you. We saw you walk in and she wanted to go over to you but, you know how these things are. We met a few people along the way.”
He leads me towards the banqueting hall. But I can't sit with him at dinner. What about the kindergarten teacher? I glance around looking for a glimpse of yellow in the crowd.
“Are you looking for someone?” Caspar pauses.
I'm secretly annoyed that he's derailing my evening. For the first time since I got here, I was enjoying myself.
I remind myself that I’m here for business. To meet Luca Valizar. Not to chase after a kindergarten teacher in a yellow dress. If I can't meet with Luca, meeting with Caspar could prove fruitful. It’s an opportunity I should make the most of.
“No.”
“I hear that the Knight Empire is doing extremely well,” he says as we walk into the hall.
“Business is good.” I glance over my shoulder for the last time.
“Who are you looking for?”
“No one.”
“You were talking to someone earlier.” He motions with his hand, as if he can't place her. “That young thing in garish yellow. She wasn’t even wearing a costume.”
“I’m not wearing a costume.”
“At least you have a mask.”
“She looked ravishing, in my opinion.”
I catch the shock in his expression before he quickly hides it. “Are you with her?”
“Shouldn't you wait for your wife?” I change the subject.
“Gloria is saving our seats.” He ushers me inside. I glance back at the entrance in dismay.
The guests at Caspar's table have removed their masks, and they’re exactly what I'd expected—CEOs, investors, a European politician I recognize but can't immediately name, and the kind of people who talk about where they're summering as if everyone owns three homes.
He makes introductions and I shake hands with growing irritation.
The last thing I want is to be stuck here with these people.
Caspar's wife gets up and comes over to me.
“Enzo. How delightful!” She has crepey, sun-tanned skin, and brown bouffant hair, and kisses me on both cheeks excitedly. “I’m so happy that you’re sitting with us. How splendid!”
“Nice to see you again, Gloria.” I kiss her hand, lightly.
Not all the chairs are taken, but even as I sit down, I wish the woman who was excited about the canapés and who wondered if the paintings were dusted, was here.
I miss the laughter, the curiosity, and the complete lack of pretence. And I’d rather sit beside someone who makes me feel alive than a bunch of people who technically would be useful to me, but would bore me rigid.
I sit down next to Gloria, leaving a few empty seats next to me. I look around the sea of tables, looking for the woman in yellow.
I don’t see her.
***
MOLLY
When I finally come out from the restroom, my mysterious masked man isn't there.
A stupid little ache twists beneath my ribs.
He said he'd wait for me.
Maybe he couldn't wait to get away from me.
I look around me and the place is empty. Everyone has disappeared. I turn back and wonder if I somehow left the restroom through a different door, but no. This is where I left him.
I take a few steps forward, looking around, disappointment coursing through me. I really believed he'd be here when I came out.
That’s when I notice a man standing at the far end of the hall.
At least, I assume he’s a man.
I move towards him, wondering if it’s wise. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a long black coat which falls almost to his knees. While everyone else tonight seems determined to glitter, this man looks like he’s trying to disappear.
“Hello?” I say, but my voice comes out all tiny and tinny.
He doesn't turn around. Like Mysterious Man, he seems to be admiring one of the paintings.
I tap him on the arm from behind. “Hi there.”
When I stand by his side, he turns and looks down at me. That’s when I see his mask. It’s ivory white and nothing like the half-masks everyone else is wearing. This one covers his entire face. There's no opening for a mouth.
No painted-on smile.
Nothing but two dark openings for his eyes.
I stumble back in shock because this man is intimidating. He’s tall, and big. And he doesn't move.
My body freezes. I hold up my mask to my face, as some sort of shield. Grip my clutch tighter. But I remind myself that I'm a kindergarten teacher who is used to handling thirty six-year-olds armed with paint, glue and a million questions.
I can handle a creepy man in a Venetian palace.
“Uh ... hi.”
His head tilts slightly.
“Where did everyone go?”
“To dinner.” His voice is deep. Rougher than I expected.
“Oh.” I look around again. “I wondered what happened. I was ... powdering my nose.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Obviously you didn't need to know that.” I can't tell for sure, because I can't see his face, but I have the strangest feeling I've amused him.
“Dinner is being served in the banqueting hall,” he states.
“Are you not eating?” There’s something strange about the way he stands apart from everything, as though he belongs here and doesn't at the same time.
“No.”
I laugh. “I suppose you can't, given that you have no mouth.”
He doesn't laugh.
I clear my throat, more curious and less fearful now.
“Do you work here?”
“No.”
“Are you a guest?”
He pauses. “Of sorts.”
Well, that's cleared that up. Not.
I glance toward the banqueting hall again. “I'm Molly, by the way. I’m a kindergarten teacher.”
“I know.”
I gasp. “That I'm Molly or that I'm a kindergarten teacher?”
“Miss Turlington couldn't come and you're standing in for her.”
I stare at him dumbfounded, shock making me lower my hand and my mask.
“Oh my days,” I whisper, deathly quiet. “You must be … Luca Valizar.”
“Yes.”
I hold out my hand. “I'm so pleased to meet you, Mr. Valizar.” I pause, and hope that I haven’t made a bad impression on him. “I probably shouldn't have asked if you work here.”
“You weren’t to know.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You don't sound sorry.”
“I'm not too sorry.”
I get the feeling I've amused him.
He starts walking. He's heading toward the doors, so I fall into step beside him.
“Miss T was upset that she couldn't come. She wanted to.”
“I know.”
“She talks about you, you know.”
He stops and turns to me. “What does she say?”
I think back to our conversation where she mentioned him. “Not much, actually. She's weirdly protective of you.”
His gaze settles on me through the mask.
“She says you're a good man.”
Something about him changes so subtly I might have imagined it.
“Miss Turlington has always been generous in her assessment of me,” he says.
“I don't think Miss T is particularly generous when she doesn't mean something.”
That earns me another long look, before he continues walking and I rush to keep up with him.
“Are you enjoying your evening?” he asks.
Another man who asks questions. Nice questions.
“I'm loving it, thanks. The palace is incredible. The food is super yummy. I’ve eaten about twelve different things tonight without knowing what any of them were.”
“And the ball?”
He senses my hesitation. How I know this, I don't know—because his mask gives nothing of him away. Whereas with my friend—the sad, Mysterious man who has let me down—his reaction is one I can gauge, a little.
“You can be honest,” he says.
“I'm not sure you should say that to me.”
“Try me.”
“The ball is beautiful,” I say. “It's just...”
“Just?”
“I was hoping there’d be some dancing.”
“There will be. Later.”
“Oh, good!”
We reach the doors to the banqueting hall and I hear a loud murmur of many voices. Mr. Valizar opens the door for me. I thank him and walk through, only to see a vast sea of tables and faces.
I quickly scan the hall, trying to find the mysterious man.
“I don't know how I'll ever find—” I look back, but Mr. Valizar hasn't followed me through the doors.
He's disappeared and the doors to the suite are closed. For a few seconds I wonder if I imagined it all.