Servers stand next to large cauldrons that have vapor floating from the dry ice inside, ready to pour drinks into the arrangement of crystal drinkware sitting on the tables beside them.
The lights in the ballroom are dimmed low, but warm twinkle lights have been added around the room to add to the ambiance, intertwined with orange and purple lights to give off a Halloween glow.
Turning toward my mother, I smile warmly at her costume. Marie Antoinette, if the slice of cake on a plate in her hand paired with the luxuriously large ball gown and wig is any indication.
“It looks beautiful in here,” I muse, turning to watch some of the staff add the finishing touches to the tables around the room. “You’ve really outdone yourself this year.”
“We were going for a subtle yet glamorous look. Halloween chic, if you will.”
“Well, you’ve accomplished it,” I laugh politely.
She reaches toward me and touches the skirt of the ball gown I’m wearing. “Is this custom?”
“It is. Raina helped me make the idea come to life.” I look down at the dress, admiring it with her. The delicate gold fabric has a slight shimmer without being reflective. It fits tight at the bodice, beautiful beads embellishing every inch, and the straps cascade down my shoulders, sitting lightly against my skin. At my hips, the fabric flares, the large petticoat beneath it amplifying how much undercoat there is.
Cecilia did my hair and makeup, giving them both a dramatic look. My hair is wound in curls that hang down my back, but is pulled half up with a small, tight bun sitting at the back, while smaller pieces frame my face. Red roses are woven in between the locks, matching the crimson she painted on my lips and the rouge on my cheeks. My eyeliner is pointed in a perfect cat eye, sharp and pristine.
“Now all you need is your prince,” my mother says coyly. “Perhaps you’ve already found him, though?”
I feel the smile curl my lips as I picture Sly with his hazel eyes and seductive smile.
My mother gently touches my cheek and walks away, heading over to a server who is placing mini cakes on a platter in the middle of a nearby table.
Within the next hour, the ballroom transforms, filling with guests in lavish costumes of all types. Fairytale characters to horror movie villains portrayed in a tasteful, high society way, mixed with silly interpretations of political figures and inanimate objects. If you can think of a costume, it’s probably at this party in some form or another.
The music is lively, a mix of songs from every decade, and the dance floor is packed with couples enjoying themselves.
Raina bumps her shoulder into mine, cradling a glass of champagne as I stand and watch from along the wall. “Having fun?”
She’s dressed as Barbie, with her sleek blonde hair in a high ponytail. Her pink satin skirt sits high on her waist and has a slit clear up the side of her leg, showing off miles of bare skin and her beautiful strappy black heels and French painted toes. Her matching cropped tube top accentuates her breasts, and even I can’t help but admire them.
“I am.” I smile weakly.
The truth is, I miss Sly desperately. I only saw him once this week when he came by my office and wesnuck away to the hidden alcove behind the building for ten minutes of time alone. It wasn’t enough, and as much as we’ve been texting and talking on the phone in the evenings, falling asleep together from separate sides of the city, it’s not the same.
It’s notenough.
“I can see right through you,” she chastises. “So I don’t know why you’re lying to me right now.”
I don’t have time to answer her before she's gripping onto my wrist, her manicured nails biting into my skin. “Holy shit, it should be illegal for your brother to look that good.”
My brows scrunch together as I follow her stare to the open doors Luciano just walked through. Rolling my eyes, I turn my head back to her and glare.
“His costume is appropriate for him too, don’t you think?”
“If he’s who’ll take my soul when I die, I’ll willingly go now.” She’s practically drooling, her eyes glued to my brother as he moves further into the room, greeting people while he walks toward the bar.
Dressed in all black, a floor length cape rests around his shoulders, the hood up, and he carries a scythe. The Grim Reaper has been his go-to costume for years now.
“You disappoint me,” I tell her jokingly as she continues to ogle my brother.
While she watches him, I scan the room, taking in everyone’s costumes and the joyous energy that fills the space. There’s a few people wearing masks that I don’t recognize, but one in particular catches my eye.
From across the room, a man dressed as The Phantom of the Opera, in a Victorian era tuxedo and a cape, leans with one foot pressed against the wall behind him. He has his arms crossed, and appears to be looking in my direction, but it's hard to tell for sure from the full face, white mask he wears.
Still, prickles of awareness coat my skin, and my mind wanders, wondering for the briefest of moments if it could be Sly.
I shake the feeling off and chalk it up to me missing him, then go back to people-watching.
