"I'm sure you look lovely." Harley said, taking her hand. "Even though you wouldn't let me see in advance your dress." He added with a slightly annoyed tone. She glanced over at him, unable to take more than a shallow breath and nodded. She was undeniably nervous. She could feel her palms clam up and her heart race. It felt as if it were a hundred degrees.

"I shouldn't be here." She replied, watching with numb horror as the red number on the elevator kept climbing. They were almost to eight. With a sudden ding and a small jerk, the elevator opened and, being chivalrous as he always was, Harley held the door from closing and coaxed Yumi out of the elevator (which took considerable effort). When they finally vacated the elevator, fifty yards from them was a table that Yumi was sure was the registration table. Her long jacket had become stifling hot and yet she had no intention of taking it off. But with a strong grasp on her arm, Harley pulled her forward. When they were ten yards away, Harley stopped and pulled her close, whispering in her ear as if it were a lover's embrace.

"We can turn back now. This is your last chance to walk away. So tell me now, are we going or not?" Yumi looked at him, her eyes turning from wavering to certain. He was challenging her. How dare he!

"We're going. This is the only chance I'll have until our ten year reunion and by then I might have wrinkles." Chuckling unabashedly, Harley hugged her fiercely and then grabbed her hand as they walked to the table. Two girls, ironically blonds, gazed up at Harley slack-jawed as they approached. Yumi groaned. She couldn't take him anywhere. Tonight would be a disaster if she lost her "date" to a crowd of adoring fans prettier than she was.

"Harley Jackson." One said, amazed. She let out a slight squeak as he nodded and she instantly began pulling at her hair. Harley grinned as Yumi looked on, amused. She placed a calculated hand on Harley's chest.

"I didn't realize you had such a following, honey." Yumi looked down at the blonde who looked a bit more intelligent. "Yumi Ishiyama." Still trembling, she handed Yumi her nametag.

"Thanks. Come along, darling. We mustn't dilly dally." Grinning even wider, Harley offered his arm to his singer. Outrageous, he mused. They hadn't recognized Yumi, hadn't even looked her direction for more than ten seconds and she was the leader of his band. That was why he didn't date blonds. They were always too busy worrying about the body to open up the mind. It hadn't gripped them that he might have brought a date who was a fellow musician or even just another mindless celebrity. Eager to get on with the night, he steered Yumi to the doors of the ballroom.

The room was romantic and regal, noticeably a replica of Medieval times. The ceiling was high, domed and strewn with clouds and angels draped languidly in cloth singing or playing the flute or harp. The floor was marble and had the building's motto and crest engraved in the middle of the dance floor in obviously expensive metal and marble. The walls were wooden and had large white drapes that peered out onto the skyline of Paris. It was breathtaking and Yumi nearly lost herself in it, but Harley saved her by pulling her back to the situation at hand.

"Milady," He said, bowing deeply, "Might I take your outer garment and offer you a refreshing beverage to quench thy thirst?" Yumi rolled her eyes. What a ham. Yumi wished she could feign not to know him but it seemed hardly possible that an internationally claimed guitarist that had made People's "Sexiest Men" competition two years in a row was here unaccompanied. She scoffed again at him. However, he'd just given her the impression tonight might be fun. It would be even better if Ulrich didn't show up. A lot better, in fact. The possibility cheered her considerably. Hell, if he didn't show up, she might even dance with Harley tonight. Then she'd go home and dance until dawn with Jude, who would probably fall asleep in her arms like he did every night.

She and Harley walked to a random white silk-laden table and Yumi put her purse in one of the seats. Harley took off his suit jacket, leaving him in matching pinstriped pants, a white shirt, silver vest, black shoes and a pink tie. Yuri's eyes caught at the silk tie. Unable to stop the urge, she leaned forward, touched it and laughed.

"Pink. Interesting choice . . . but I love it." Harley raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" His voice sounded unusually hopeful. Yumi didn't notice. "Now then," Harley stated in an orderly tone, "Off with your trench coat. I want to judge your outfit. I've been dying to see all day what you and that evil-wench-you-call-a-designer concocted." Yumi glowered, her hands on her fragile hips.

"First of all, it's not a trench coat and second, how do you know this isn't my outfit and thirdly, Marlene is not an evil wench." Harley boomed with laughter, winning the attention of all the people standing close by.

"I know you better than that." And without another word, he slipped the last bit of protection she had off of her shoulders. Yumi felt naked and exposed. This was her, raw and uncut and she was bound to be noticed now.

Harley felt the breath leave him. He'd never seen her like this before. He'd seen her in jeans and sweats and even her underwear, but he'd never seen her in formal wear. He instantly regretted it. A strapless burgundy ballroom dress had him mesmerized. There was a large diamond brooch that drew attention to her cleavage. In the large skirts miniature copies of the brooch accentuated the dress. It fell to her feet, which were fitted with matching silver heels that were also diamond encrusted. Her hair was in loosed ringlets that were pulled back to spiral down her back. She wore a simple silver necklace and dangling diamond earrings. She was beautiful.

His eyes passed back up to her face and she meagerly spoke. "Like it?" She asked in a quavering voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head and frowned. He saw her face fall and with a smirk added, "Love it."