"Well, maybe not me particularly, but he thinks all billionaires are, and he paints me with the same broad brush. So there you go."
Right then, Murphy walks out of the office and slides an arm around his wife's waist.
"You're not still harassing her about Lorne, are you?" He playfully scolds, and she scrunches her nose at him.
The three of us start walking out of the building.
"Hey, babe. Hold on. The tickets arrived," Murphy says, stopping at his secretary's desk.
Sitting down on a chair outside his office, I check my social media while they handle the tickets.
I hear Murphy mentioning their annual masquerade ball, which I've never been able to attend but have always donated to. Mair glances at me over her shoulder and says something to her husband that I can't quite make out.
Walking over to me, she says, "I have an extra ticket for you for the masquerade ball. I want you to go this year."
Standing in my room at the lodge, I look myself over in the full-length mirror. My dark green tricorn hat with its black feather sits perfectly atop my head, and my forest green crushed velvet mermaid gown hugs every curve. The sweetheart neckline is flattering as I spin in front of the mirror.
I attach my gold chandelier earrings and slide on black opera gloves, then pick up my half-faced Venetian mask in dark emerald with gold filigree from the table.
I'm glad Mair insisted that I finally attend the ball. I feel like a princess in this gorgeous getup.
The ballroom takes my breath away when I step inside. People in gorgeous costumes, all wearing masks, fill it. The atmosphere is magical and mysterious. Mair and Murphy, of course, are seated with people they need to schmooze with at the main table.
Several times during the dinner service, I can't help but look over at the table next to me. At a nearby table, a man with a short silver beard in a black and gold half-faced Venetian mask talks quietly with his seatmate over dinner. His costume is simple yet elegant, primarily black with gold accents and a dark green feather sticking out of his black tricorn hat. Something about him draws my attention his way.
Near the end of the meal, the man catches me staring at him, and I look away, feeling my cheeks burn under the mask. When I peek at him in the corner of my eye, I find that he continues to look at me, and my entire body heats from the attention.
When couples have taken to the dance floor, I quietly sit watching them as I sip my Shiraz. Suddenly, the man who has grabbed my attention all evening is by my side. He bows and asks me for a dance.
"I would love to," I say, offering him my gloved hand.
When he takes it, fiery electric desire seizes my entire body, and I swallow a gasp as I stand. We dance through three songs, my body buzzing with excitement the entire time.
When he asks if I would like to take a walk, I can barely push out the word "yes."
Hand-in-hand, we leave the ballroom and walk down the hallway toward the back patio. I know from previous visits that they keep several fire pits lit on cold evenings. One couple sits in the far corner, but otherwise the patio is empty.
We warm ourselves by a fire pit, and I turn to him, wondering if he'll kiss me. I reach out to softly touch the small area of his face visible beneath the mask, my fingers brushing his groomed silver beard. His lips curve into a smile.
"May I kiss you?" the mysterious man asks.
I nod, unable to speak, and soon his lips are pressed against mine. An electric heat zaps through every nerve ending in my entire body. I pull myself up on my tiptoes, and my arms wrap around his broad shoulders as he presses me against him.
We both breathe out the word "Wow."
Giggling, I say, "Maybe we should take these masks off and actually introduce ourselves properly."
He grins and says, "Yes. That's probably a good idea."
The two of us remove our masks carefully, but I almost drop mine when I gasp.
"Lorne?" I spit out.
"Holy shit," he says, his pale cheeks turning red in the firelight.
"What the hell did you do to your beard?" I say, my mind buzzing with confusion.
"Oh, I had to trim it so that the mask would fit better," he says, absentmindedly rubbing his stupidly handsome face.
