Chapter 92: Clara Whitmore Circled the Dessert Section with Her Tray

Clara Whitmore circled the dessert section with her tray before selecting a slice of tiramisu. She avoided the noisy crowd and settled into a corner sofa, pulling out her tablet from her bag. Her fingers swiped rapidly through the pages of her research paper.

A gloved black hand suddenly entered her field of vision. The fingers were long and strong, with sapphire cufflinks glinting faintly under the lights.

"Might I have the honor of dancing with the lady in the fox mask?"

That familiar voice made Clara's head snap up. The man wore a silver half-mask, revealing a sharply defined jawline. The antique watch on his wrist gleamed softly, complementing his "Phantom of the Opera" ensemble.

She recognized those smiling eyes instantly.

Connor. Hayes.

"Sorry, I'm not much of a dancer," Clara reflexively declined.

Connor chuckled. "Last year during the school festival rehearsal, I saw you perform the entire Swan Lake solo in an empty auditorium."

Her ears burned. That had been her prepared performance, canceled later due to a high fever. Even she had nearly forgotten about it—yet he remembered.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A spotlight roamed through the crowd as the host announced, "Our lucky guest chosen by the light—please grace us with a dance!"

The blinding beam landed squarely on them.

Connor's lips curved. "Seems fate is on my side." He bowed gracefully, palm upturned. "With so many watching, Miss Whitmore wouldn't want to embarrass me, would you?"

Cheers erupted around them.

Clara took a deep breath and placed her hand lightly in his. Connor immediately closed his fingers around hers, guiding her smoothly to the center of the dance floor.

His steps were steady and confident, maintaining just the right distance. Clara's skirt flared with each turn, blooming like a night-blooming cereus.

"You dance beautifully," Connor murmured near her ear.

Memories surfaced—her mother insisting that girls should cultivate talents. She'd learned ballet, practiced piano, but fell irrevocably in love with physics after her first competition. Equations and theorems fascinated her more than any dance.

"Thinking of something?" Connor suddenly tightened his hold, executing a flawless spin.

"The past," Clara said softly.

A flicker of understanding passed through Connor's eyes. He shifted steps abruptly, catching her off guard as she stumbled into his arms. Applause erupted around them.

"That fox mask," he whispered, lips brushing her ear, "reminds me of when I first saw you."

Clara arched a brow. "Mr. Hayes came all this way just for vacation?"