Page 56 of Kept

Sarah is standing in front of the full-length dressing mirror, fidgeting with her hair, when I enter.

Holy mother of God.

She is stunning. I was expecting the dress, courtesy of Marie of course. What I wasn’t expecting was the way the soft, ice blue satin clings to her trim body, hugging the soft swell of her breasts and hips. Her long, platinum hair is loose, arranged in a waterfall of curls cascading over her shoulder, a series of small diamonds sprinkled throughout. Her blue-grey eyes meet mine in the mirror.

“Oh, hey.” She turns around, and I see her rake her eyes up and down my tux. “You clean up nice.”

“You’re doing pretty good yourself, kitten.”

She blushes.

I hold up the white gift bag I brought in, and she quirks an eyebrow. I pull out a soft, white fur cape and drape it around her shoulders. “Can’t have you freezing to death, can I?”

Sarah smiles. “Thank you.”

I watch her features twist into confusion while I unwrap the final accessory, a white half mask decorated with silver and crystals.

“It is a masquerade, is it not?”

Her face lights up. “The ballet? We’re going?”

I nod and practically get knocked off my feet when she throws her arms around my shoulders and kisses me.

“Thank you!”

The navigator is idling out front. Aldo moves to open the doors, but I wave him off, helping Sarah into the back.

“I can’t believe you made all of this happen.” She’s holding my hand but gives it a squeeze. It occurs to me, with her pale coloring and icy attire, she could pass as some sort of mythical ice queen if it weren’t for the thousand-watt smile that hasn’t faltered once.

When we arrive, rather than pull up to the main entrance like everyone else does, Aldo ducks down an alleyway. I can see two more of my men standing by. Sarah gives me a quizzical look.

“Just keeping a bit of a lower profile,” I explain.

She nods and I help her slip down from the SUV, her dress and heels making it a bit difficult for her. I tie the soft satin ribbons of her mask on her before donning my own.

Inside, I realize Marie got us the best box seats, center stage, as well as the seats on either side, just for a little buffer and more privacy. I’m not actually anticipating a problem tonight, but a little extra paranoia isn’t a bad thing in my world.

A bottle of chilled champagne is waiting for us, nestled in an ice bucket, as well as two flutes. The orchestra’s tone changes, and Sarah tells me that the opening act is about to begin.

“Have you seen it before?” she whispers to me.

I pour the champagne. “Yes, it’s been some time, though. I’d love it if you shared your thoughts on it.” Sarah may be here to watch the ballet, but I’m here to watch her. She flashes me another megawatt smile.

The curtains part, and Bella is on stage. “Not every ballet will do this part, but this is where it all starts. The princess is strolling alone, and she meets our bad guy right about now.”

A man appears, but he quickly transitions to hostile and threatening, and the music takes a dramatic, almost sinister tone.

“She tells him to kick rocks,” I surmise.

I get a chuckle. “More or less, so naturally poof, she’s a swan. At least during the day. She gets to be a woman again at night, which is just handy.”

“Why doesn’t everyone cover this part?” I ask.

Sarah sips her champagne and gives me a noncommittal shrug. “Swan Lake is a bit bizarre because every director kinda takes their own spin on it. I read an article once where the critic said it was butchered, because so many pieces get chopped off and added and moved around. Some directors don’t think that the first scene is important because it’s not heavy on the dancing and they can make the point later on.”

“What do you think?”

“I think if you’re going to tell someone’s story, might as well tell the whole damned thing.”

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