Behind the Masks    

Mr. Hanz was a legend in the world of formal dance, a name whispered among the elite when it came to choreography.

The rich and powerful sought him out, offering exorbitant sums just to have him choreograph their performances. His studio was nestled in the heart of New York, a sleek, modern facility that stood as a testament to his success. 

When we arrived, the lobby was empty, its polished surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of elegant lights. It wasn't surprising — the place was exclusive. You didn't just walk into Mr. Hanz's studio; every visit required an appointment, scheduled down to the minute.

"I'm sorry for the last-minute notice, Candy," Lina said to the receptionist with her usual grace.

Candy, a woman whose poise matched the elegance of the studio, flashed a professional smile. "For you, Miss Lina, Mr. Hanz cut his trip short. He flew back from a fashion show in Paris as soon as he heard you'd be arriving." 

Lina chuckled softly, shaking her head. "He really shouldn't have gone through all that trouble. We would've been fine practicing with his assistants." 

Candy's smile never wavered. "Not for you, Miss Lina. Only Mr. Hanz will oversee your sessions." 

"Thank you," Lina said, her voice kind but firm. "We're in a bit of a rush, so if you don't mind, we'll head straight in." 

"Of course. Right this way." 

As they exchanged pleasantries, I was lost in thought, remembering the last time I was here. Back then, Mr. Hanz hadn't even bothered to show up. Not once. I had practiced my heart out, desperate to impress, but to him, I was just another face in the crowd.

It didn't matter now, though. I wasn't invested in this world anymore. All I wanted was to get through these next few months and disappear — vanish into a simple life far from the suffocating family drama in here. 

In my distraction, I bumped into Dylan, Lina's ever-present bodyguard. His presence was as silent as it was commanding.

I had to tilt my head back just to meet his eyes, icy blue and piercing, a stark contrast against his pale complexion. Dylan's heritage was as striking as his appearance, a mix of Australian and Japanese, with perhaps something else in between. 

He didn't react, didn't speak. His face remained emotionless, a mask he wore well. I had heard the rumors — how he had been orphaned young, taken in by the Fays, and assigned as Lina's personal bodyguard since childhood. He was always there, a silent sentinel at her side. 

His features were striking, high cheekbones, big eyes, prominent jawlines, small face with a kissable lips to seal all that gift — almost too perfect, the kind of face that would leave anyone staring a little too long. But his personality? It was just like Cole's — cold, distant, and indifferent.

No thanks. I'd had my fill of handsome, emotionless types, the kind that made you swoon one moment and feel invisible the next. I'd had enough to last a lifetime. 

Romance? I was over it. In this life, it wasn't worth the trouble.

My dream life right now? To vanish into some tiny remote village where nobody knows me, surrounded by a squad of cats and dogs, living the kind of quiet, drama-free existence that involves more naps and pet hair than people. Growing old with some furry army sounds perfect!

Without a word, Dylan moved aside, allowing us to pass as we entered the spacious practice hall. The air inside hummed with the energy of untold hours of dedication, a space where dreams were crafted and perfected. And yet, all I could think about was how much I wanted to be anywhere but here.

Mr. Hanz, a bald, slender man with smooth dark skin and an air of flair, greeted Lina the moment we stepped into the practice hall. His excitement was on his face, his bright smile lighting up his expression as he kissed her on the cheek.

"Lina Fay, what an honor this is!" he exclaimed, his voice as grand as his reputation.

Lina returned his smile, though with a touch of embarrassment. "I'm sorry for the short notice, Mr. Hanz. You didn't have to rush back from Paris. The travel must've been exhausting."

Hanz's wide eyes grew even wider in exaggerated disbelief. "Nonsense! For your dance? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

But Lina's smile wavered as she took a small step back, gesturing toward me. "Actually, it's not for me. It's for Eve's eighteenth birthday. You know she and my brother are supposed to share the last dance at the party, right?"

Hanz's forced smile barely reached his eyes as he spared me a quick glance, his attention swiftly returning to Lina. "Ah, of course. But where is young Master Cole?"

"He couldn't make it," Lina said, glancing away. "I was hoping, if it's alright with you, that maybe I could take his place for now?"

Hanz's lips pursed as he tapped his chin, pondering. "Hmm, a man's build and dance style is quite different, my dear . . ." His eyes suddenly lit up as they landed on Dylan, standing stoically nearby. "Ah, I have it! Why not have him practice with you instead?"

Lina's face flushed a delicate shade of pink. "M-me?"

It was painfully obvious now — Lina liked Dylan. Her stolen glances, the softening of her smile, and the barely-there blush whenever their eyes met — it all gave her away. As flawless as Lina was, even she couldn't hide her feelings.

But Dylan? He seemed as indifferent as ever, his expression unreadable as he stood there, unmoved by her charm.

I couldn't help but wonder if he felt anything for her at all. How could he not? Lina was the entire package — beauty, grace, intelligence power.

Yet the idea of a mere bodyguard falling for the daughter of a family like the Fays wouldn't sit well with anyone. Maybe it was the reason why he was holding back?

Or must be he wasn't really into her, after all.