Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alexander
I’ll never tire of the high I feel after a performance like that.
It was exhilarating and as the crowd rose to their feet and cheered, I reveled in their adoration for the orchestra.
My job is to sculpt the music into a piece of art that every person on the stage can be proud of. I may guide them, but they are the true masters of the journey.
I take another deep breath as I gaze around the room.
I notice Olivia before she notices me.
She’s already arrived at the private cocktail reception that’s being held in the lobby. Dressed in a backless black dress and black heels, she’s flawless. Her long dark hair is styled into a knot at the base of her neck.
She looks elegant, almost regal. It’s no wonder that men are turning in her direction once they catch sight of her.
I slip the bowtie from around my neck and tuck it into the pocket of my tuxedo jacket. I unbutton my collar for comfort.
Pushing my hair back from my forehead, I approach Olivia. She’s having an animated conversation with Kate, Jack, and the female client he brought with him.
He’s banking on the fact that she’ll work with him to invest more of the fortune she inherited from her late husband.
“I bet you didn’t think you’d ever see me again, Al.”
The sound of a female voice lures my attention to the left.
Al.
It’s the name I sometimes toss out when I meet a woman I envision spending one night with. Back in college, I’d pull a fake name out of thin air, but the effort isn’t worth it anymore.
Al is impersonal enough that it doesn’t impact me when a woman screams it during an orgasm.
I take in the woman next to me. She’s blonde-haired, brown-eyed and wearing a tight red dress.
All signs point to her being a former lover of mine, yet I can’t place her.
That should embarrass me, but it doesn’t. I have fun. I’m careful and respectful enough to make it clear to the women I sleep with that my true passion is music and I’m not looking for anything serious.
“That was an incredible performance tonight.” She moves a step closer to me, her perfume floating in the air between us.
The scent is familiar.
“Thank you,” I reply out of habit.
Whenever I was handed a compliment when I first started conducting, I’d push for more. I’d want to know what the person I was talking to felt during the performance. I’d question them about the nuances in the music and how they interpreted them.
It wasn’t until I realized that most of them had no idea what I was talking about that I switched to a simple ‘thank you’ as a response.
I glance over at Olivia. She’s turned her attention to a man in a navy blue suit. I can only see his profile, but it’s clear that he’s checking her out from head-to-toe.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say gently to the woman next to me.
I won’t fumble for a name I can’t remember. I won’t offer any hollow remarks about how great it is to see her again.
I don’t remember her. Pointing that out will only humiliate her.
“Why are you rushing away?” Her hand grabs hold of my forearm. “We should talk.”
I look down at her hand and the perfectly manicured black fingernails that are digging into the sleeve of my jacket. Just as I’m reaching to pry her hand free, I catch sight of the tattoo on her wrist.
It’s an arrow.
A flash of memories assaults me as I slide my gaze back up to her face.
Those eyes, the thin lips and that body.
I might have thought she was remarkable at the time, but now I see why I’ve forgotten her so quickly.
She’s attractive which is why I picked her up and took her home that night, but there’s nothing about her that stuck with me and implanted itself into my memory.
I grab her hand in mine and twist it from my arm. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Her body trembles under my touch but not in the way it did when I was between her legs. This is different. Fear punctuates her movements now.
“Al.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “What’s gotten into you?”
“You’re a thief,” I seethe. “You fucking stole from me.”
“What?” She blinks. “What are you talking about?”
This woman won’t win any awards for her lackluster acting abilities. Her pulse has increased. Her breathing is labored. Small beads of sweat are pooling above her red stained lips.
“Where the hell is the jersey you took from my apartment?”
She flashes a smile that I suspect is meant to disarm me. It doesn’t. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“You left my apartment while I was asleep and you took an autographed Trey Hale jersey.”
“Me?” She tugs her hand to free it from my grasp, but I’m not letting go. “The only thing I took home with me that night is the memory of how good your big cock felt inside of me.”
“Jesus. Lower your voice.” I glance over my shoulder at the people passing us.
I don’t need anyone to hear this shit.
“What’s your name?” I lean down until I’m face-to-face with her. “Tell me your name.”
“You don’t remember my name?” She yanks her hand free. “You’re an asshole.”
“You’re a thief,” I counter as I give the lapels of my jacket a tug to straighten it. “I should call the police.”
Her hand disappears into her clutch purse to retrieve a tube of lip gloss. “What would you say to them? You have no proof that I took anything that belonged to you.”
“You took it.” I exhale harshly. “What did you do with it?”
“What did you do with my panties?” She applies the lip gloss before tossing it back into her purse. “I forgot a brand new pair of panties at your place. Can I stop by and pick them up or are you keeping them as a souvenir to remember me by?”
“I threw them in the trash.” I hold back a smile. “The only thing memorable about you is your penchant for taking things that don’t belong to you.”
“Fine.” She glares at me. “If you take me home with you tonight I’ll show you just how memorable I can be. In exchange, I’ll give you back the jersey.”
I study her face. I don’t know what I saw in her that night. She’s cute, but there’s nothing remotely unique about her.
I lean in closer to her, lowering my voice. “You’re proposing that if I fuck you again, you’ll give me the jersey back?”
She nods. “Anyway you look at it, you win. You get me and your jersey.”
Shaking my head, I work to control the urge to laugh in her face. “I’ve had my fill of you. Keep the jersey. I’m not interested.”
The corners of her lips dip into a frown. “What?”
“I’m not interested,” I repeat in a low tone.
“I bought a ticket for this just to see you.” She rubs her forehead. “It was expensive. So was this dress and these shoes weren’t cheap. I even bought a new pair of panties just for you.”
“Your loss.” I brush past her. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to talk to.”
I take a step toward where Olivia was, but she’s gone.
I look around the room and curse under my breath when I don’t spot her anywhere. That one-night stand I just finished talking to might have cost me more than an autographed jersey. She may have stolen my chance to talk to the woman I can’t stop thinking about.