Chapter Five

The dance started about twenty minutes ago. It was a waltz dance where you switch partners with every song. Normally we waiters aren't supposed to be on the dance floor but who cares, it wasn't like anyone was watching besides, I promised to save a dance for Dylan.

The song finished and I let go of my partner. He was the fifth man I'd danced with that night and my feet were starting to hurt. The shoes I had on were a size smaller which made it difficult to keep walking around or dancing in them but then again I couldn't pull them off, not when there were disdainful elites at every corner of the room. Besides, I felt that bit wearing shoes would ruin my dress and whole look.

I knew the wise thing to do was to go sit down like Nina did and leave the dance for the professionals but I couldn't, not when I was yet to dance with Dylan.

The thought of having his arms wrapped around my waist was starting to make me jittery. In a good way of course.

The next song was about to start and most people had now gotten themselves a new partner. I on the other hand was searching around the room for Dylan. It can be really hard to find him in a room full of men wearing similar suits. 

I suddenly felt someone grab my hand and I don't know why but I had thought it was Dylan at first, that was until I saw his face.

"We meet again." His voice was loud enough for me to hear over the music but not loud enough for anyone less than feet away to hear.

It was the handsome devil.

Before I could even decide to turn away from him, he put us in position.

But, I didn't want to dance with him, I wanted to dance with Dylan.

He twirled me around as the music demanded before drawing me close to him again by my waist.

"Yeah." I said dryly. He turned me around and I felt someone burning the side of my face with their gaze.  I turned towards the direction the heat was coming from. Standing at the corner with a  glass of wine in hand was the lady that dumped her drink on my face and on her face was the deepest frown. I couldn't help but notice the murderous glares she was throwing at me.

"I think you should find another dance partner." I said as I tried to pull back but he was quick to grab me and pull me even closer to him.

"Why? The music has only just begun." He twirled me around and held my waist to lift me a bit. 

"I don't think your girlfriend is happy with you dancing with me. I think you should go dance with her instead." That way I'll be able to find Dylan.

"Girlfriend?" He sounded perplexed.

"Your east."

He glanced momentarily in that direction and then once again his eyes were on me.

"Bethany? She's not my girlfriend, please." He looked at me like I was ridiculous for even thinking about something like that.

Is she his wife then?

I couldn't see his fingers to check for a wedding band because his hand was around my waist.

"She's not my wife." He said as if reading my mind. I looked at him with wide eyes, wondering how he knew what I was thinking. 

Or did I say that aloud?

Neither of us said anything else. One thing I noticed about this man was that he knew his way on the dance floor. He would turn and bend me when the music demands. He would pull me closer and push me away when necessary and even though only half of my mind was with him, I liked the way he maneuvered me, confidently. It made me feel like I was a better dancer than I really was.

"Are you looking for someone?" He suddenly said bringing my attention back to him.

"Huh?" I didn't catch what he said. My mind had been somewhere else.

How hard could it be to find someone or did he forget about our dance?

"You seem to be looking around a lot. Who are you looking for? Maybe I could help."

I didn't even realize that I was looking around that much. I mean yes I was thinking of Dylan but I didn't know my wandering eyes were looking for him.

"Um, it's no one."

"That sounds like someone to me. Tell me, who is this person?" He asked in an authoritative voice that startled me. There was so much authority in his voice that I immediately found myself feeling like his subordinate.

I met his eyes and held his intense stare for the first time that night and immediately I regretted it. It felt like I was in a trance and was sucked in by those bottomless greens of his.

"My-my boss." I blurted out before I could stop myself. My eyes widened when I realized what I'd done. I wasn't supposed to tell him or anyone and judging by the calculating look in his eyes I could tell he was already getting ideas I didn't want anyone getting. "Um I mean you should know her." I quickly added, settling my eyes on the area between his eyebrows. It was easier to look at him there than to hold his burning gaze. "Mrs. Amelia Marsh—Johansson.” I cleared my throat. “Her dad Mr. Johansson organized this party. I’m sure you know him.” My eyes fleeted across his face.

He nodded before switching positions with me briskly.

“I do know Mr. Johansson but his daughter? Not so much. I’m not quite sure I’ve heard of her before.”

I eyed him skeptically. There was no way he was serious with me right now.

“You don’t know Ms. Amelia?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“How’s that possible? Everyone knows who Amelia Johansson is. The only daughter of the Johansson family. It’s quite weird that you don’t know her or did you live abroad or something?”

“I lived in London until I was sixteen. Does that count?” He asked and I eyed him with scrutiny. He looked young but not too young. He couldn’t be older than twenty-five which means if he had been in California since he was sixteen, he has spent at most nine years here and that is more than enough time to know who Amelia was.

“No, it doesn’t. It’s really strange that you don’t know who she is.” I mean I’ve heard stories of how she received marriage proposals from the best of the eligible bachelors and rich men old enough to be her father before she got married to Dylan. The only reason she settled for Dylan was that she got pregnant with Brie while they were dating. And although her father didn’t agree to their union because had never liked Dylan as he thought he wasn’t good enough for his daughter, Amelia didn’t care, she went ahead to marry him but to appease her father, she didn’t take Dylan’s last name.

He opened his mouth to say something but the music ended before he could get any words out. His hands fell from my waist and I took a step back.

“I enjoyed the dance with you.” He said.

“I did too.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Perhaps we could do this again?” He said and my brows furrowed.

“Yeah maybe, in a year.”

“I’m pretty sure I would like to do this sooner than that.” He said with a cheeky smile and I swear I forgot how to breathe. All night I had been trying so hard not to stare at him ‘cause I feared I would end up blurting out something I wasn’t supposed to; like ask where he was from or what he was mixed with because there was no way he was just American. His looks were too exotic to be American.

“Here,” he said giving me his business card. “Call me.” And with one more glance, he walked away.

My eyes skimmed through the business card before I tucked it away in my bra.

After minutes of searching the hall for Dylan and not finding him, I concluded that he didn’t mean those words he said. He didn’t really want to dance with me as he had said. The realization made me suddenly get this pang in my chest.

I was stupid for thinking he remotely felt something for me. I was stupid for thinking he thought me more than just his maid. I was stupid for getting ahead of myself.

My mood immediately turned sour. I was no longer interested in the party. I went to the makeshift bar and poured myself a glass of wine, drinking my sorrows away.

I can’t believe how delusional I was, thinking he likes me because he got me a dress.

I chuckled bitterly.

How pathetic of me.