Amans

15. More Than Words

Amans stood off to the side, leaning on a pillar, away from the center of attention. The sound of jazz massaged his ears, and he was finally able to just relax.

Magdalena had still not returned from her trip upstairs, and even if she had, he hadn't seen her. Amans had managed to avoid conversing with almost everyone at the event, and yet there he was having a marvelous time.

It wasn't that he was anti-social, he just saw things differently than most. For example, it seemed like all the people around him were so genuine, but he could tell that even with the masks off they would be so far from it.

Magdalena was one of the few millionaires he had met that actually stood for something and cared about those around her. Granted he had not met many millionaires except for the ones she introduced him to and there was the fact that she had worked for every ounce of her wealth, he knew she had a different appreciation than most.

He watched as women were twirled around in their colorful dresses by their dance partners, the thought of not embarrassing themselves the only thing they worried about in life itself.

Others were more conservative about their status, casually walking around mingling with those they encountered, but every step they took, radiating power.

The room was softly lit, casting shadows on the intricate designs throughout the building. Amans looked over the crystals in the chandelier and how the windows curved into an arch that met at a rounded point.

The building was the perfect definition of a modernized masterpiece.

"I can tell you have a pretty face, even with the mask on."

Amans looked over his shoulder and found a woman standing behind him. She seemed vaguely familiar, and it took Amans a moment to remember where he saw her from. Then it came to him.

He recalled passing by her as he had entered the building with Magdalena. She had been enveloped in another gentleman until her attention became focused on their arrival.

Magdalena had said he was the guest of honor, so he was sure there were those curious of his identity.

The woman wore a nude colored dress that left nothing to Amans's imagination. Her eyes were a bright blue, and the top portion of her face was concealed by a silver mask. She smiled, "Like what you see?"

Amans had to stop himself from sneering in disgust. He focused his attention back on the couples twirling together in front of him, hoping she would get the hint that he wasn't interested.

Instead, she moved closer.

"I'm Lucy," she stuck out her hand.

Amans reluctantly shook it, "I thought the point of the masks was to conceal our identity," he said.

"Hmm, I think it's really in support of the theme, I mean the quality of individuals here..." she looked around the room and smirked, "who would really want to keep their identity a secret."

Amans slightly shifted, his tolerance for the woman in front of him was slowly starting to decrease.

"Soooo..." she placed her manicured fingers on Amans's shoulder, "you got a name?"

"Thirsty."

"Thirsty? Haven't come across any eligible millionaires with that name," she persisted.

"No, as in I'm thirsty. I think I'm going to get something to drink," Amans stepped back, freeing his shoulder from her touch.

"Well I'll take a glass of champagne," she winked underneath her mask, and Amans shuddered, eager to walk away.