Chapter 9 #2
“I was told when you said that to inform you that’s not an option this time.” And with that, the man leaves.
“That son of a bitch,” I hiss under my breath.
“Who?” Catarina questions, her gaze searching mine in the reflection in the mirror as she makes a show of inhaling the perfume of the flowers. “Who’s a son of a bitch? Because these flowers…”
“They’re gorgeous,” Quill coos, throwing me a side-eye as she joins Catarina. “And yes, who is a son of a bitch? You obviously know who they’re from or you wouldn’t have tried to send them back and you wouldn’t be referring to whoever he is as a son of a bitch.”
I send the flowers back. Each and every time. Not tonight. Why not tonight? What game is he playing? I loved Luca Fritz in ways I shouldn’t have. In ways he didn’t deserve.
Only I was too young and too stupid and too besotted to see through the pink haze of the love potion he had me under.
The man saved my life when I was a child and since that day I’ve loved him.
Watched him from my looking glass otherwise known as the staff quarters in the back of the Fritz compound.
Cyber stalked him when he left for college and cried into my pillow every time he was photographed with women.
Which was freaking often. The media loves their favorite notorious Boston billionaire bachelors otherwise known as the Fritz brothers.
I was the girl you never want to be, and at eighteen, I was still that girl.
Only that time, that night on the island, he saw me. He wanted me back, pursued me even, and I was helpless to resist. Giddy with dreams come true and wishes upon stars granted.
Four years later, I’m a woman and I hate the bastard for tricking me into believing it was real.
“You can have them,” I tell them without answering their questions, unable to be in here another second with those flowers consuming all the available oxygen.
“I should be done with dinner around nine, so I’ll be at your place by nine-thirty or so. ”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” I ignore Catarina’s smug smirk and bolt out of the room like my ass is on fire. I need a minute to collect myself, to right my brain, and I can’t do that with those fucking flowers sitting there or Catarina’s and Quill’s inquisition.
My cello can stay here as we have another performance tomorrow early afternoon, and no one will touch her. I run into the dark hall, turning left at a blind sprint, only to slam straight into a hard body. I teeter back on my four-inch heels as two hands swoop out, catching me and holding on tight.
“Ah, Raven. I was just coming to find you,” Antonio says, his thick Italian accent a purr.
“My girl, you were exquisite.” He pulls me in for a hug, kissing both my cheeks.
Sweat glistens through his wild, dark hair as he runs his hand through it, brushing it back off his face.
Despite his roguish good looks, the man keeps the eccentric stereotype for conductors alive.
“Your best performance yet. Magnifica, mia bella .”
“Thank you.” I give him a small curtsy. “The whole night was flawlessly and gloriously conducted. Well performed by all.”
I search frantically around the dark corridor, only lit by the remnants of the stage lights as they filter through back here. It’s fairly empty, most people either changing in their dressing rooms or having left.
“ Si. Grazie . But I did not come for you to discuss the performance. I am pleased I caught you before you left. Raven?” Antonio says my name with purpose, forcing my attention back to him and giving me the look.
The one he’s given me since I started here with the orchestra a few weeks ago.
“Will you join me tonight at the reception?” The sparkle in his eyes and the quirk of his lips make his intentions impossible to misread.
It is never a good idea for a musician to get involved with their conductor.
It’s asking for trouble and Antonio is a good twenty years older than me.
Not that it matters to him, though. He sees talent and beauty and cares about nothing else.
I’ve heard the rumors about him. Knew of them before I even came on here.
“Yes,” I answer, anxious to go. “Catarina, Quill, and I will be attending together after I have dinner with my father.”
He takes a step toward me, his head dipping until we’re practically eye to eye. “Will I be able to entice you to have a drink with me? Just me? Perhaps more after?”
A throat sharply clears behind us, but I didn’t have to hear it to know he was looming there. I had already felt his presence. Smelled his cologne. Hated the way my body began buzzing with electricity that only has one source.
Antonio glances over my shoulder and immediately frowns at what he finds. A man getting closer, the soft tap of his expensive shoes an indication of that, yes, but that’s not how I know he’s moving in behind me. Staking a claim he has no right to.
“He is waiting on you, yes?”
For a beat, I’m tempted to scream no, take me with you, or be a total bitch and walk off with Antonio.
I knew this moment was an inevitability.
I knew I’d have to see him. Maybe getting it over with is just easier?
I doubt it. There is nothing easy about this man or this situation and I hate him all the more for putting me in it.
Instead of fleeing the way my body is begging me to, I put on my big girl panties and with a resigned sigh say, “I’ll see you later, Antonio. Thank you again for tonight. It was magical.”
Antonio makes a show of kissing both my cheeks again and with a parting glance, leaves me here alone in a dark hallway with him .
Billionaire. Doctor. Playboy. Boston prince. Gorgeous in a way no man should ever be.
Heartbreaker extraordinaire.
Gulping down my nerves and releasing a silent breath, I slowly turn around and look up. His piercing green eyes lock on mine, and if I thought my heart was beating fast before, it has nothing on me now.
“Luca Fritz. How unlovely it is to see you again.”
“Raven Fairchild. How lovely it is to see my beautiful wife again.”