Elsa
The banquet is as boring as they got. Marcello keeps conversing with the men sitting at our table, discreetly stroking my thigh once in a while.
“I need to go to the other room,” he says. “Unfortunately, you may not participate in that conversation. I’ll leave you under Gabriele’s care.” He kisses me on the forehead and leaves for the door, trailed by the other men.
My assistant materializes immediately, taking Marcello’s chair.
“That woman in the red dress looks like a giant furball,” he says, and we both erupt in laughter, watching an elderly lady in a dress reminiscent of a Christmas tree decoration. “If not for those fashion curios, I’d be dying of boredom,” he adds.
I know how he feels, and I am so glad he joined me. For nearly another hour, we talk and drank champagne. When we are suitably tipsy, we decide to take a shot at dancing.
The dance floor is crowded, but this is a formal party. Can’t go too crazy here, I think to myself, glancing at the string quartet. After a couple of ballroom dances I have enough. As opposed to Gabriele, I was an exquisite dancer-my dearest mother had always made me go to dance lessons, until she passed on. I lost interest thereafter and Rosa never bothered with my life personally.
“Gabriele,” someone called from behind. We both turned to find a man elaborately, wearing a glossy gray suit. He removes his mask as if to relieve us from the curiosity. He looks young, about Gabriele’s age but definitely younger than Marcello. He is goddamn handsome.
“Mario? What are you doing here?” he asks, surprised.
“My company works for most hotels around here. Besides, it’s a charity ball and I’m one of the sponsors,” he says with a shrug.
“Oh, right,” he says, turning to me. “This is Elsa.” Just Elsa. No family name to create a suspicion, and no title to make everything awakward.
“Piacere di conoscerla, bellisma,” Mario says, kissing me on both cheeks.
“piacere di conoscervi,” I respond with a conserved smile. Gabriele and Marion then exchange a few words for a moment. We are about to walk off when the string quartet is joined by other musicians and the entire room is filled with the sounds of Argentinean tango. I squeal with glee. Both men send me puzzled looks.
“I love tango,” I say, sending Gabriele a meaningful look.
“For the last fifteen minutes I’ve been stepping on your toes and you’re telling me you haven’t had enough yet?”
I grimace. He is right.
“I’ve been taking ballroom dancing classes for eight years, so… if you’re not afraid, I’d be honored,” Mario cuts in, offering me a hand.
“Just one song,” I say to Gabriele, and we go to the dance floor.
Mario takes me in his arms and a moment later the other dancers make space for us to show off our skills. He leads expertly, with confident motions, a feeling of the music and perfect knowledge of all the steps. Everyone must be thinking we have been dancing partners for years. A couple of minutes into the song, the dance floor empties, and we whirl together, putting all our training to good use. When the music stops, the entire room bursts into applause. We bow to the audience and turn in the direction where we had left Gabriele. Instead the charming right-hand, we see Marcello standing in his place, surrounded by several men. As we approach him, they nods with appreciation-all but Marcello. His face contort in an ugly grimace of rage, and his eyes flare with fire. If looks could kill, I would have turned into a heap of ash. Not to mention my companion
I step close to him and kiss him on the cheek. Mario takes my hand off his shoulder, passing me over to the Marcello.
“Don Marcello…” he says, bobbing his head.
They freeze, looking each other in the eyes, and the air between them suddenly grows so cold it is hard to breathe. Not releasing my hand, Marcello turnd to his companions and says something in Italian, causing general laughter. I didn’t catch that.
“You know who he is?” I whisper to Mario. I don’t know why I have the sudden familiarity around Mario. Maybe he has been as nice as he could for the last minutes we have spent together.
“Sure. I’ve been living in Italy for a dozen years now.” The winks. I think I like this guy.
“And you danced with me despite that?”
“What’s he going to do? Kill me? I don’t think so. Not here, anyway.” He chuckles. “Besides, he can’t really do that for a whole lot of reasons. So, I hope this wasn’t our last dance.”
He kisses my hand and disappears among the tables. Marcello follows him with his eyes before turning back to me.
“You’re a great dancer. That explains the range of movement of those hips in… different situations.”
“I was bored, and Gabriele isn’t much of a dancer,” I said, shrugging by way of apology. A rhythmic paso doble reverberated through the hall.
“I’ll show you how to dance,” Marcello says, throwing off his tux jacket and passing it to Gabriele.
He grabs me by the hand and leads me back to the dance floor. The remaining couples haven’t had time to crowd the floor yet, and seeing me appear with another partner, they leave us some space. Marcello nods at the orchestra to start over.
I am so tipsy and sure of my own abilities that I take a step back, lifting the hem of my dress, revealing my leg. God, what had I been thinking to go out without any underwear? The musicians play the first few chords. The position adopted by Marcello tells me it isn’t his first time with this dance. Our dance is wild and full of passion-perfectly reflecting Marcello’s authoritative character. This time it isn’t just a dance, though. It is my punishment and my reward-the portent of what is to happen when we leave the banquet and the promise of a surprise waiting for me later. I am spellbound. I want the music never to stop, and our dance to last forever.
The finale has to be spectacular and extraordinary, of course. I pray that he doesn’t lift my leg too high, thus revealing what I want hidden. The music stops, and I stay in Marcello’s arms, breathing heavily. After a long while the whole crowd roars with applause. Marcello gracefully lifts me from the back bend and allows me to pivot a couple of times before we bow. In a calm and assured gait, holding me by the hand, he leads me off the dance floor and puts on the jacket that Gabriele passes him.