Chapter 22
As the Dollz run onto the stage to tumultuous applause, I look down at our wrists shackled together.
Why have they done this to me?
Matteo is staring at me open-mouthed. He’s probably expecting an explanation, and the evidence is stacked heavily against me. I have done nothing but throw myself at him, albeit by accident most of the time, since we landed in Spain. He is bound to think this was my idea.
‘I don’t suppose you have the key to these, do you?’ he asks, raising his wrist and taking mine with it. ‘I need to be at the main stage in ten minutes.’
I shake my head wearily.
‘I guess they’ll unlock us before you go on stage though, won’t they?’ he asks, swinging his head round wildly as if expecting to see a passing locksmith.
I chew my lip and try to appear positive.
‘It’s just I have an actual job to do here.’ He sounds annoyed. He does seem to take his work very seriously, I’ll give him that.
‘I had no idea they’d do something like this,’ I say. ‘I’ll try to get the girls’ attention. They’ll set us free. I’m sure of it.’
Matteo does not seem convinced. After we stand in awkward silence for what seems like a week while we repeatedly fail to catch their eye, I attempt some conversation.
‘They make it look so easy. They have the crowd eating out of their hands before they even open their mouths.’
‘I doubt you’ll have any problems winning the crowd over either,’ he says.
And just like that, my whole body erupts into tingles as his gaze sweeps back up from my toes to my eyes.
All thoughts of him being in a complicated relationship with his business partner evaporate and, without thinking, I lick my lips and run my unshackled hand down the bodysuit, pulling a few of the straps into place, just to give it something to do.
I fear I might reach out and pull him into me.
I’m having flashbacks to kissing him. His hands sliding down my body. I’m like an addict wanting more.
‘Right. Yes,’ I say, trying to think of casual conversation that doesn’t make me have sexual thoughts about him. I clear my throat. ‘So, tell me about yourself. How long have you been doing this? What’s your full name? What’s your social media handle?’
Why am I making this sound like a job interview?
He looks up from his phone with surprise. Quite rightly, he must know I am going to google the shit out of him.
‘Matteo. I’m thirty-two years old,’ he says smoothly after a slight pause, tilting his head to the side and eyeing me up. ‘I like limited-edition old-lady scooters, music festivals and confident women with the ability to cope adequately. Not on Twitter. Don’t do Snapchat.’
He goes back to checking his messages.
‘No surname?’ I’m not having that. No way.
He smiles at me with a slightly exasperated expression. ‘Okay, brace yourself,’ he says, shouting over the loud music as the Dollz launch into their opening number. ‘I come from a long line of…’
It sounds like he might be saying overly sexy men, but I don’t trust my hearing, what with my heartbeat pounding so loudly in my ears.
‘Pardon?’ I yell back. We are right next to the speaker, and I can’t make out what he’s saying, even from a few inches away. ‘You have a long what?’
This startles him.
God help me. I have an addiction.
‘Xavier Matteo George Marie-Carmen.’ He tilts his head. ‘I’m not finished. Torrado Grande.’
Oh my.
‘It sounds like a name that you have literally just given yourself to sound, oh, I don’t know… incredibly difficult to google?’
‘Why would you want to google me?’
Good point. He doesn’t need to know why.
‘So, “Grande”, that’s a right mouthful,’ I shout, moving swiftly on. ‘What’s the “big” bit referring to?’
Jesus Christ. I’ve done it again. He must think I’ve hanky-panky on the brain.
After an embarrassing few seconds, he carries on as though I’d not sexualised his name while I try to appear as though I am listening to him intently, and not, as I am currently doing, visualising his manhood and whether it is indeed a right mouthful.
I just need to keep my eyes trained on his handsome face and not let them wander.
I will concentrate on my set. The Dollz will be coming off stage soon and I am on straight afterwards.
My mind is all over the place at his close proximity.
‘It’s very embarrassing, I know!’ he says.
‘Not as embarrassing as my first night on The Strip,’ I say, blushing at the memory. ‘Singing for you.’
‘You don’t have to do that!’
‘Do what?’ I yell.
This conversation is becoming quite a chore over the racket. I pull him behind the stage curtain, where the ear-splitting music is slightly muffled. We are almost touching as we stand facing each other.
‘You don’t have to take off your clothes for me.’
I suppress a howl of nervous laughter. ‘I’m not going to take off my clothes. What are you talking about?’
‘What are you talking about?’ he says.
‘My night on The Strip.’
‘Oh.’ He shrugs sheepishly.
I erupt into giggles. ‘So, the thought of me stripping for you was repulsive? I’m not surprised. I mean, you did tell me that you are not,’ I bellow, ‘I repeat, not sexually attracted to me.’
‘I lied.’
Holy feck.
‘But you said, “take care then” to me.’
‘Take care then?’
He’s a man so he won’t get it.
‘Yes. “Take care then”. So, I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.’
Suddenly, the temperature behind the curtain has increased, and we are staring at each other while a sexual current fills the air. I am desperate to drill down into exactly how much he thinks he might fancy me.
‘Firstly, you were in bits after the jet ski incident and saving that little girl. I genuinely meant “take care”. I wouldn’t have taken advantage of a situation like that.’
I am inwardly swooning.
‘And secondly, you don’t need to act like the Dollz to impress people. Just go out there and be yourself. Don’t try to sound like the people you’re covering. Find your own voice. Do it your own way.’
Could he be any more like Oprah? I’m finding his thoughtfulness an incredible aphrodisiac and comforting at the same time, like someone’s sexy grandpa, but a lot younger and hotter. ‘And the “it’s complicated” situation?’
‘Dealt with.’
‘Sure?’ I’d never steal another woman’s man. Never. Not even one this ridiculously gorgeous.
‘Yes.’
We lock eyes, and for want of something to do that won’t involve me trying to dry-hump him, I lift my shackled arm over my head so that his arm is wrapped around me. I am now facing away from him so that he can’t see me making cow eyes at him.
As though in a miraculous dream, I spend the next fifteen minutes watching the Dollz while slowly moving as close to Matteo as I dare.
I press my back up against his impressively firm abs and nearly die when I feel the weight of his hands gently rest on my hips.
I am acutely aware of every single little movement.
The dazzle of the lights, the energy of the crowd, the passion of the Dollz – who are absorbed in the moment, flinging themselves around the stage, owning it like the strong, talented artists they are – it’s all happening right in front of me.
It has a dizzying effect. It’s intoxicating.
Something inside me is stirring. For years, my smiles have been empty but at this moment, I could burst. I turn round to beam up at Matteo.
‘You’re really enjoying this.’
It’s like he can see through me, like he knows I’m used to faking it.
‘It’s amazing. It’s just exhilarating. I can’t believe I’m going on stage dressed like this!’ I say loudly into his ear. ‘It’s the exact opposite of what I’m used to. There’s no way you get this sort of buzz from a club or a classical audience.’
Our faces are but an inch apart. In that moment, I lose track of my mind, forgetting where we are.
I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him lightly on the lips.
It’s an enchanting, barely-there type of encounter.
Rather like the magical lip hover. I flutter my eyelids open in a sexy manner to find he looks rattled.
He quickly casts an eye around the vicinity.
The moment dies instantly, and my feeling of passion turns to mortification.
‘I thought… I mean, after the other day and the whole soul baring… I assumed. I thought we were having a, you know… a moment.’ I step as far away from him as the handcuffs will allow and slap on a bright smile. ‘Please forget I just did that.’
‘No. It’s fine. It’s just…’ He rakes his free hand through his hair. ‘I’m kind of at work?’ He lifts my downcast face up to meet his. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re not upset, are you?’
Does a bear shit in the woods? to quote Tash.
Yes, of course you have , I want to say.
You were supposed to kiss me back and you didn’t!
And now I’m humiliated and can never again face him for as long as I live.
Although, it’s crucial that I sound less like a fourteen-year-old drama queen and much more of a sophisticated woman of the world.
‘Yes. No, of course not. Not really. No. Well, yes. A bit, yes.’
He nods his head in understanding and leans in to press his lips to my ears. ‘Just to be very clear. I absolutely do want to fucking kiss you. Just not here, in front of my whole team.’
Oh my.
Matteo indicates the crew working the giant mixing desks.
He nods to the stagehands on either side, pulling at cables, moving huge speakers, busying themselves with lighting rigs and band equipment.
They all wave back to him, making sure to look at me, then him, then down at the handcuffs, then back to him with sly, knowing grins.
They are all wearing Jezebel Music T-shirts.
Shitting hell.
‘We have over sixty acts on over the four days. Things are pretty busy round here.’
I hold up the handcuffs. ‘This is the last thing you need.’