Tori

     I walk into the large mansion by myself. My black heels click against the wooden floors. There is much chatter and classical music. My eyes scan the crowd, which has now gone silent. They all gaze at me, some choking on their champagne. One man steps up to me, still baffled.
"Who are you looking for, ma'am?" he asks me, running his fingers through his ginger hair.
"Henry Chandler," I state in a smoky voice. "Do you happen to know where he is?"
     "Yes ma'am," he says, pointing behind himself. "Over yonder."
     There is a large set of stairs that lead to another floor of the house. A muscular young man in a black tuxedo stands over the railing near the staircase, goggling at me. He has slicked back raven hair and sharp facial features. His piercing gray eyes are mesmerizing, but they do not affect me.
     "Sir," I say in a ringing tone.
     "Ma'am," the man says in a orotund voice.
     Henry rushes down the staircase, causing pitter-pattering sounds. Once he is close enough, I hold out my hand for him to shake. He abruptly leans down and takes my hand in his, pressing his lips to it.
     "Good evening, ma'am," he welcomes. "What is your name?"
     I ponder for a second. I cannot possibly give this man my true name; it will ruin the entire mission.
     "Samantha Everett," I say quickly. "And I presume that you are Mister Chandler."
     "Yes," he replies. "It's a pleasure."
     "Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine."
     "Well," he announces to the partygoers. "Let's continue. And someone bring Miss Everett some champagne."
     I laugh softly, but everyone continues. A man with a plate of glasses filled with the sparkling liquid comes to us. Henry quickly takes two glasses and thanks him.
     "Thank you, Mister Chandler," I say, taking a glass from him.
     "Please, call me Henry." he smirks.
     "Oh," I giggle. "Thank you, Henry."
     "My pleasure," he laughs.
     I smile. Is it really possible that a man this kind and gentle could be part of a horrible organization? Definitely, I've seen many people like this.
     The music changes, slower and calmer. Henry's eyes glint with joy.
     "May I have this dance?" he asks me, offering his hand to me.
     "Yes," I say, playing along.
     I put my hand in his and we walk to the middle of the room. His hand is cold, unlike Steve's which is warm and comforting. He takes my champagne and puts it on the same tray that one man was carrying along with his own.
     Henry puts his hand on my waist and I put mine around his neck. We dance along the floor, swaying with the beat.
     "You are a wonderful dancer," he compliments.
     "Thank you," I say.
     I feel eyes glancing at me, but I don't pay any mind to it. Henry spins me around and we dance nonstop. I don't like it at all. The only thing I can think of is Steve. I can imagine his arms around me and us dancing all night long. I can imagine how jealous he would be if he was watching me right now.
     Other people join us, dancing with their partners. The song has changed, so Henry and I just sway back and forth. He takes his hand off my hip and lifts it to my hair, feeling the curl.
     "You look beautiful," he whispers.
     "Thank you," I say, blushing. "You are so handsome."
     Please forgive me, Steve, I think. I love you more than anything that has ever lived.
     "Thank you, Miss Everett."