Stealing the Heart of Mr. Steele

Chapter 43 [Unknown]This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

Wearing a uniform is better than becoming invisible.

It always surprises me in situations like this how easy it is for some to ignore a person in uniform. Clothing has so much power when it comes to revealing or disguising someone's true nature.

Dress like a janitor, you're a janitor and nobody looks at you twice.

Dress like a doctor, you are a doctor and will be given respect and admiration.

Dress like a waiter, and you might as well be a ghost. Most forget they ever saw you because you are so beneath their notice that you aren't worth remembering

Keeping my expression blank, I move through the elegantly clad throng. Avoiding eye contact, I keep my head down, both to avoid the cameras stationed in every doorway, and also to make it nearly impossible for anyone to be able to identify me later in a lineup. Following the lead of another uniformed individual, I touch nothing, leaving no trace, letting others open doors for me. For an event like this, the staff

is brought in from outside, which means, there isn't a single person working tonight that likely knows everyone else! Nobody questions another uniformed body when I enter the room, making it easy for me to blend in with the other kitchen staff.

Finding a place along the counter, I join the others pouring champagne for the guests for the toast to come in the next fifteen minutes. Making up a tray, I pour a special mixture into several of the glasses. This way, my target has more than one chance of grabbing the right glass.

There is nothing toxic in these glasses. No poison. I don't want to hurt her or anyone else.

I just need her to sleep for a while. At least until I am able to transport and examine her.

Setting the tray down, I wait until we are signaled, placing slices of strawberry in each tainted glass. It is a beautiful display, adequately celebratory with half the glasses ornamented with heart-shaped slices.

Tonight marks the end of a long wait. So many things had to fall into place to make this moment possible. This isn't my first attempt to finish this stage of the plan. This time, with all the distractions of the evening, I will be successful. And then, everything I have been wanting. Everything that was stolen from me.

By her. Cordelia Greyson.

"And the winner of tonight's fashion show..." The emcee has given us our signal. In neat rows, all of us waiters march out from the back holding our trays high above our heads. This isn't the most stable way to carry glasses, but it is easily the most noticeable and impressive.

A few feet away from the tables, I move my tray to a more stable position as I purposefully fall forward, hitting the back of the man in front of me. He stumbles forward, his tray and all of the champagne glasses tumbling to the ground, landing with a crash. "I am so sorry, let me help you" I offer apologetically as I hand my tray to a waiting staff member. "Make sure this tray makes it to table 11," I request as I help the poor guy pick up the shards of glass and wine.

Nobody will remember me if I'm not the one to deliver the drinks.

As the other waiter and I work together, I watch as my tray makes its way to table 11. As one of her satin- covered hands reaches forward to grab a glass, I hold my breath as I watch her carefully take a glass containing a slice of strawberry. Everyone lifts their glasses in celebration. It seems to take forever for her to lift the glass to her lips.

The rest of the waiters are returning to the kitchen to fetch deserts, Walking back with them, I try not to appear too obvious as I watch her patiently over my shoulder. For some reason, she isn't drinking. If anything she seems surprisingly distracted, lost in thought, until her friend speaks in her ear, clinking their glasses together.

Smiling, she takes a long drink.

Finally!

Reaching down, I set my timer for 15 minutes.

Now all I need to do is wait.