He remembers the first time he held her in his arms. Rather, they had held each other, joined in a waltz to the andante movement of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21. At the time, given her confessed lack of experience he had naturally taken the lead while she tentatively followed. Yet as her reservations gave way, together they began to move as if their union came naturally. In fact, any ignorant observer would have surmised that the pair had graced the dance floor many times before and were simply engaging in a routine act. But up close he could distinctly remember the rosy blush that kissed her cheeks as they danced that evening. He judged that this had truly been the fist time she'd been held intimately by another male. The innocent wonderment brimming from her wide brown eyes and the delicate smile that graced her full lips was palpable and he found it delicious. Initially he'd been drawn to her because she was the lone wallflower among the throng of clamoring females who worked themselves into a frenzy upon his entrance. Yet this revelation made her immediately lovely and alluring to him. Nearly more so than her unique beauty. Truthfully, although he identified himself as an immortal who harbored a sentiment of derision towards the human race, Solomon Goldsmith had not yet completely abandoned the joys of the female sex. Something his older brother identified as both a childish and trivial pursuit. But he was smitten. And to think he'd gathered such a high opinion of the girl before receiving knowledge of her true identity? "Compatible." Yes, that was the word he used. At the time he had no idea how true -and untrue- this was.
On this evening once more she'd found herself into his arms. She lay limp, asleep, with her head nestled beneath his chin. As he carried her to the second floor of his New York City pent house, he could faintly detect the rise and fall of her bosom with each breath she took. Saya , the object of his undying love and only hope, felt like dead weight. This was in sharp contrast to the time when they shared that first dance. Back then, she flitted so lightly in his arms across the ballroom floor with a childlike exuberance that concealed her true nature. Now, it was as she was suffocating beneath constraints fate had heaped upon her. But if only she were willing, he wished to author a new fate for her –no- for the two of them. It was for the sake of her love that he had completely forsaken all that was once dear to him. The Solomon Goldsmith of today was no longer the worthy of the position of Diva's prized chevalier. Because his feelings prevented him from remaining by Diva's side he was now bereft of the affection of his mother and lover. Not only this, but he also found himself scorned by his brother.
Yet, in Saya he hoped to be redeemed and have restored to him all of this and more; a lover and companion for all eternity, and perhaps, mother of his future children. For at this moment, stripped of fame and fortune, he could contrive to be nothing more than a man in love.