Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Olivia
I took it as a challenge. When Alexander told me that I could choose where we’d spend time after dinner, I almost bailed on him.
I’m still nervous whenever I’m around him.
My pulse ticked up to a feverish pace when he wrapped his long fingers around my wrist.
The whisper of his full lips against my skin brought up an unexpected moan that I had to bite back.
I want more time with him, so I brought him here.
I study his profile as he takes in the sign hanging over the door of this nondescript building two blocks from Times Square.
“The Pink Parlor,” he reads the sign slowly.
“That’s right.” I nod.
“What happens inside the Pink Parlor, Olivia?” He asks as a couple breezes past us, walking down the sidewalk arm-in-arm.
I watch until they round the corner. “Use your imagination.”
His brow perks. “That’s dangerous.”
I laugh. “You’re a music lover. The Pink Parlor is famous for music. I think it’s a good fit.”
He glances at the building again. Dark blinds cover the windows, and the glass door is peppered with flyers from businesses that inhabit this block.
“I trust you.” He reaches for the handle on the door.
As soon as he opens it, pop music greets us both.
A smile ghosts his mouth. “I can’t wait to see what’s inside.”
I can’t wait to see if he’ll command the stage the way he did last night.
I shouldn’t have doubted Alexander’s ability to captivate any audience.
The people here tonight are an eclectic mix of young and old. I can’t tell if anyone recognizes him, but they all love what he’s doing on the stage.
Women are whistling, men are pumping their fists in the air and almost every person in the Pink Parlor is on their feet, dancing right along with Alexander.
I’ve never brought a date to this karaoke bar.
I’ve come here with Kate a handful of times, and once with her and her friend, Tilly.
Tonight is a brand new experience for me.
“Your boyfriend is awesome.” A middle-aged woman elbows me in the side. “He’s the life of the party.”
I laugh. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He’s available?” She stares at the circular stage. “Do you happen to know if he’s into fifty-something divorced women?”
I wiggle both brows. “You can ask him as soon as the song is over.”
She shakes a finger at me. “No way. I’m going to lead the charge for an encore as soon as this song is done.”
I glance back at the stage to catch Alexander looking right at me as the song drifts into another chorus.
The crowd joins in, singing right along with him.
I shouldn’t be surprised. When he took the stage and asked for requests, it was a man who yelled out, “Never Gonna Give You Up.”
Alexander called back that he knew all the lyrics before the band started playing.
He can sing. He can dance too.
I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything Alexander Donato can’t do well.
As the song ends, the crowd starts chanting for an encore. Alexander’s hand pops into the air as he brings the microphone back to his lips. “I need a break, folks. Thanks for making me feel like a rock star for one night.”
Laughter fills the room as he steps down from the stage taking the stairs two at a time.
The people gathered near the stage part to let him pass through. Some of them pat him on the back. Others shake his hand.
By the time he reaches me, I’m grinning from ear-to-ear.
He picks up the bottle of beer he ordered before he hit the stage. “It’s your turn, Olivia.”
“Not tonight.” I shake my head. “My throat is a little scratchy.”
“Is that so?” He leans forward, his finger hovering over the skin of my neck. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
I pretend to cough. “It just started.”
“Take the stage.” He motions toward it with his beer. “We had an agreement.”
“Did we?” I feign surprise even though he’s right.
I dared him to sing in front of strangers because I thought he’d refuse to do it. I was wrong. I was so wrong.
“We did,” he affirms. “I kept my end of the bargain. It’s time for you to keep yours.”
I can’t follow him.
Dozens of people were spellbound by the show he put on. I’ll barely turn a head once I start singing.
The band begins to play as a woman grabs the microphone and starts crooning an Adele ballad off key.
That I can follow.
“I’ll go next,” I promise as I take the last sip of my glass of house red wine.
“Let me guess.” He rests his hand on the table, leaning against it. “You’re inspired by her so you’ll be serenading us with your version of an Adele song.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s not my style.”
He places his beer bottle on the tabletop. “What’s your style?”
“Britney.”
His eyes narrow. “Spears?”
I look over at the stage and the woman who is now on her knees pouring her heart into the song as the crowd sways back and forth listening to her every word.
When I turn back to Alexander, his eyes are pinned to my face.
“I know the lyrics to all of her songs,” I say proudly.
“I can’t wait to see this.” He pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to reveal his muscular forearms. “I’ll be cheering you on.”
I take a swallow from his beer, turn on my heel and march toward the stage, hoping with everything I am that I pull this off.