Max's timing wasn't ideal. Most of the band had just gone on a break. However, the lone pianist started playing a beautiful melody.

"Dance with me." From anyone else, it would have surely sounded like an order rather than a request, but Max somehow even made this seductive.

Looking at his beaming face, she couldn't resist.

"Sure," she said before almost immediately regretting the decision because while they were heading toward the dance floor, most of the other couples were just leaving to take a breather. It was as if all eyes were on them as Max led her to the center of the parquet floor.

Adjusting his grip and putting his other hand above her waist, he waited for the correct beat before taking the first step. Even in her platform heels, Reine was still below his eye level. Keeping her head up to look at his face, she mentally counted the steps until she got the hang of it. It had been quite a while since she last waltzed.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Moving in harmony, they maintained the flawless box-step. Gracefully gliding around the remaining couples, they travelled counterclockwise around the dance floor.

Reine was finally relaxed. The pure sounds coming from the ivory keys perfectly echoed throughout the room. For an instant, it was as if they were the only two people around.

One, two, three. One, two, three. Turning and stepping. Stepping and turning.

Max confidently led, and she eagerly followed, even when he peppered the textbook moves with an occasional spin, all of which he executed masterfully. As the music faded away, it was replaced by cheers and thunderous applause.

Reine's cheeks turned red realizing she and Max were the only dancers left on the dance floor. The accolades were all meant for them. Luckily, the band leader took the microphone as the rest of his crew returned to their instruments.

"And now, one of my favorites from Benny Goodman," he announced as drums and trumpets replaced the lone piano, and other couples started to return to the dance floor.

"Are you up for it?" Max asked, his head already bobbing to the up-tempo beat.

Reine hesitated. Swing dance was never her strong suit. "I guess."

Just like with the waltz, he immediately took charge. This time the moves were more complicated and impromptu, making her concentrate on anticipating – and then taking – every step. The quick jerking motions of swing were occasionally interrupted with a hop, skip, and twirl, while the band played quicker and louder with every passing beat.

Max became just a blur. Reine was no longer dancing with him, but rather with the mysterious man from her dreams. He was still hiding behind that annoying mask, but she was moving too fast to rip it off. She was no longer in control of her own body. It was moving to the beat on its own accord.

By the time Reine realized she was in trouble, it was too late; she had slipped on the smooth floor. In the fraction of the second before tumbling to the ground, her imaginary dance partner looked her square in the face, and she saw a pair of familiar, incredibly blue eyes.

"Gabe," she whispered in astonishment before realizing it was actually Max crouched above her. There was no mistaking that he'd heard her, but he was publicly more concerned for her well-being to address the issue immediately.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"Yes, of course." She pulled herself up with his help and smiled to the anxiously watching crowd stopped around them. "No worries, everyone. I'm okay."

He supported her by the waist all the way back to their table, although she would have made it on her own just fine. Because Anna and Todd had stayed on the dance floor, they were free to have an open discussion. After a few steps, Max finally asked what was really on his mind. "What happened? Why did you say that name?"

"I know him, Max. Wasn't he also at your house that first morning? It was definitely him that I saw was in Venice with me," she said.

He ran his fingers through his dark hair. "How can you know that?" he asked, almost angrily.

"So it's true? I didn't imagine it?" She was even more breathless now.

He shook his head. "You shouldn't be remembering—"

"Forget that part for a second!" She hissed through clenched jaws. "Someone we both know was also in Venice. You know, the place where something happened which made me lose all of my memories. Why didn't you tell me he was there?"

He sighed. "It's complicated."

"Oh, is it? What else did you leave out that I should know?" she asked with escalating intensity as she grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't make a scene, Reine," he pleaded.

Before she could respond, Morgan interrupted. "Come on, sweetie. We'll get the limo and take you home, okay?" She tried to diffuse the situation before it escalated even further.

Max, however, wasn't ready to let her go. "No! I'm not going to have any more damage done tonight. We came together and she will leave with me."

Morgan returned to her seat, but the order was meant just as much for Reine.

Silently acquiescing, she followed him out and collected her coat. Once outside, Max handed the valet ticket to the young man with the unfortunate duty of managing the cars in the freezing night. As they waited for the car to be delivered, Reine was still putting the pieces together.

The more she focused on the face of the man she saw on the dance floor, the more she felt like she knew him. His name, what he did for a living, where they had met; it was all coming back to her.

He had stood in Max's ballroom, with his hands in his pockets and a bruise on his face.

"He wasn't supposed to be there. You sent him away and omitted to tell me about him because you wanted me to forget him. What were you afraid of, Max?"

He avoided her eyes and instead pretended to be searching the darkness for the valet with the car.

"Come on! You owe me the truth." She touched his arm, but he pulled away.

"So you remember him, huh? That's just great. The one thing I wish you would forget is the only thing you do remember," he spat.

The Maserati slowly rolled up to the curb in front of them.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, as the valet crossed in front of the hood to open her door.

Max didn't answer until both of them were seated in the car. Speeding away from the theater, they left the bright lights of the marquee sign behind them. "You're absolutely right. That kid, Gabe I mean, wasn't supposed to be there at all. In fact, he specifically defied my orders to stay away. From Venice and from you."

Reine bit her lip. "I don't understand," she said quietly.

"He worked for me, Reine. His job was to confirm you were indeed who we suspected. I was quickly convinced, but I wanted our reunion to be special. So I set up the entire charade in Venice with the portrait," he admitted as he gripped the steering wheel. "I was going to reveal myself to you there, in the city which separated us so long ago. But he ruined my plans and you ended up hurt, instead."

Some of this Reine already knew, but Max was now blaming the failure completely on Gabe. Omitting that the young man was also in Venice certainly bothered her. Why couldn't Max have been truthful from the beginning?

They drove on, and the weather reflected Reine's dejected feelings. The earlier snow had turned into a light rain, and a heavy fog rolled over the road. Max didn't adjust their rapid pace, and his attitude just added to her overall annoyance.

"Are we late or something?" She held on to the door's interior panel for leverage against the breakneck speed.

Max kept his eyes on the road. "Why?" he asked.

"Well, because of the way you're driving."

"What of it?" he snapped.

She pointed to the road ahead of them, shiny from the rain. "Do you always drive like this?"

"Of course. This is the proper way to drive." He glanced at her.

"No, it's not." She shook her head. "You've broken like five traffic laws already."

"So? That doesn't mean I'm not a good driver."

"Yes, it does!"

"You've become too American."

Reine raised her voice. "What does that even mean?"

"You follow all the rules."

"Uhm, that's what they're for." She shrugged.

"No, they're for idiots who don't know better."

She folded her arms. "You're impossible!"

"I'm still right." He grimaced.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this anymore." She dismissed as they turned onto the mansion's long, winding driveway.

"I'll still need a ride home tomorrow." She reminded him when they stopped in front of the main door.

"You haven't changed your mind about leaving, then?" He looked at her. "Very well. Is eight early enough?"

"It's perfect." She sneered, exiting the car before slamming the door. As Max drove off, however, Reine felt even more alone than she had in a long time.

Author's Note: As promised, attached is the second custom picture I commissioned on DeviantArt for this story. It shows Reine and Max dancing, while alluding to her remembering Gabe when he gave her the flower in the art gallery.