Page 39 of Enzo

But the elderly couple are completely lost in their own world. I love that. I love that they're elderly, that they're seem so wrapped up in one another, wrapped up in the magic of this evening.

I watch, entranced.

They didn't need an invite to a palace to make magic moments. They created them by themselves.

I want to share a moment like they are. I want to experience this magic, but not alone. I want to have a memory that I can carry forever, even if it’s just with a man, a stranger I only just met, someone who is a friend and nothing more.

I turn to find him watching me.

“You want to dance, but the music is boring?” he suggests.

“Not boring. I suppose it's fitting for tonight, for this moment.”

The music here in the inky darkness gives the night a touch of magic. Although this isn't the type of music I dance to, I want to move, instead of standing on the sidelines, watching.

Everything about tonight has led to this moment—all the things I've seen and experienced, and this wonderful kind man I've met. This evening will end soon, and I'll never see him again and I want one extraordinary memory from this extraordinary night. Something that I’ll keep forever.

“Would you mind dancing with me?” I blurt out.

“Me?” He points to himself, and that makes him even more endearing.

“Yes, you. I don't usually ask strangers to dance with me, but somehow, you're not a stranger anymore.” I look at him, at his mask, at his eyes. He notices.

“But you're unsure about dancing with a man who wears a mask and whose name you don't know?”

I don't try to deny it. If we're to dance like that elderly couple, holding hands, bodies close together, I should at least know something about him.

“Enzo,” he says. “My name is Enzo.”

Somehow, that name is perfect. Even though I can’t see his face, his name is different. I’ve never known an Enzo, and that in itself feels special.

“En-zo.” I say his name slowly. “I'm honored that you're able to trust me with your name at last.”

“Enzo Knight.” The way he says it, it sounds like a weight. Something that wasn’t easy to give up.

But all I can think of is that my Venetian adventure has a knight in it. How lucky am I?

Not a knight in shining armour, but a knight in a mask. It’s fitting and magical and absurd all at once.

“Nice to meet you, Enzo Knight.”

“Nice to meet you, Molly.” He pauses, then, “I can take my mask off, if you’d like.” But I hear the resignation in his voice, and I see the crowd around us, some of whom are recording the elderly couple on their phones.

“You don’t have to.”

I’d hate to make him do something he’s clearly not comfortable doing. But at least I know his name.

He holds out his hand. There's no hesitation now, and the way he looks at me sets my heart aflutter. I wish I could see his face and read his expression.

But I can sense his mood.

He's being playful now.

My heart is racing. I see the elderly couple, still cheek to cheek, still lost in one another, moving gracefully behind him, and I take this man's hand, and even though he's masked, I find myself still being as curious and as fascinated by him as I was before.

I shiver, even though I’m not cold.

It’s his touch. A spark of electricity zaps between us, and I’m suddenly aware of his hand at my waist.