Mafioso’s Muse
1. August 2024
1
August 2024
C ondensation ran down the side of Willow’s glass, pooling at the base. It grew bigger with every passing minute.
Every. Eternal. Minute.
She glanced at Harrison, who was seated to her left and staring at the floor. He didn’t look up. Nigel sat on the other side of him, watching the board members across the table. There were four of them, shuffling papers and tapping pens on notebooks, their gazes flicking in the direction of the door every so often.
He was late.
‘Traffic’s always bad this time of the morning,’ Willow said, her voice sounding loud in the silence.
Harrison looked at the ceiling. ‘And yet the rest of us managed to be here on time.’
Willow tucked her feet beneath her chair to keep them still. She felt the disapproving weight of the board members’ eyes upon her as she did so.
David Wilmore, Caroline Roche, Patrick O’Neill, Mary DeVecchis. An intimidating mix of former artistic directors and choreographers who had worked with some of the best ballet companies around the world.
Where are you?
Willow had been preparing for the hearing for days, but now that the moment had arrived, she was beginning to doubt her understanding of things. She already knew that her version of the story would contradict the one Harrison would tell. Victoria Ballet’s esteemed creative director had the respect of every person seated before them, so there were no prizes for guessing which version of events they were going to believe.
‘Perhaps we should start,’ Mary said, sounding like a disappointed parent. ‘Should Mr Gallo?—’
The door opened before she could finish her sentence. Willow didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. She could tell by the faces of those before her and the way they shifted ever so slightly in their seats. She could tell by the rhythm of his expensive shoes padding the lush carpet and by the scent that reached her before he did. Leather and cigarettes. It was too early for scotch—that would come later.
Willow couldn’t bring herself to look at him as he lowered himself into the seat beside her. She watched the faces of the board members instead. Their expressions ranged from curious to uncomfortable. It was like that when people first encountered him. One didn’t know whether to drink in the beauty of his features or gape at the ink dancing along his jawline.
‘The hearing commenced at 9:00 a.m., Mr Gallo,’ Mary said, taking control of the room once more.
If Mary was expecting an apology, she would be sorely disappointed.
Vaughn met her gaze. ‘I’m aware of that, Ms DeVecchis.’
It was no surprise to Willow that Vaughn had done his homework and knew the names and faces of every person in the room. He likely knew a lot more too.
Vaughn looked in Willow’s direction. ‘Morning, Miss Hayes.’
Her cheeks heated. She forced herself to look at him, worried that not doing so would make her appear guilty. ‘Good morning, Mr Gallo.’ She couldn’t remember the last time they had addressed each other in such a formal way.
‘Glad you could fit us into your busy schedule, Mr Gallo,’ Harrison said.
Vaughn’s silver eyes shone brightly in his direction. ‘Harry.’
Harrison’s mouth flattened into a thin line. He hated it when people shortened his name.
Vaughn looked past him at Nigel, nodding in place of a verbal greeting. The executive director returned the gesture.
Willow couldn’t gauge the state of their relationship. They had worked successfully together for months—until they hadn’t.
‘What have I missed?’ Vaughn asked, resting his hands on the arms of the chair.
Caroline tucked her short hair behind one ear. ‘Your timing is perfect. We were just getting started.’
That comment earned her disapproving glances from both David and Mary.
While Vaughn was focused on the board members, Willow used the opportunity to look at him properly. His inky hair fell in a tousled mess over his forehead, the sides and back clipped short. He wore a charcoal suit, no tie, but his white shirt was buttoned one higher than usual.
Yes, she noticed these things.
‘Let’s begin with why we’re all here,’ Patrick said, referring to his notes. ‘As you’re all aware, there was an incident at Star Theatre on the 19th of July resulting in eight dancers being injured’—he looked up—‘yourself included, Miss Hayes, and the closure of the theatre for the remainder of the season.’ He paused and looked between the four of them. ‘We’ve been bombarded with information, and it’s our aim today to separate fact from fiction and determine if any disciplinary measures are required.’
Mary fixed her gaze on Vaughn. ‘The police are conducting their own investigation, and we will continue to cooperate with them also.’
Nothing changed on Vaughn’s face.
‘We’ve spoken with various witnesses,’ David chimed in, ‘and chose to leave the four of you to last, since you all appear to be at the centre of this.’
‘Why don’t we start at the beginning,’ Mary said, picking her glasses off the table and sliding them on. ‘Miss Hayes, please tell us how you and Mr Gallo met.’
Unable to help himself, Harrison spoke up. ‘It was the evening of the performance for our patrons.’ His gaze slid to Vaughn. ‘Mr Gallo here has been relentlessly stalking Miss Hayes ever since.’
Willow pressed her eyes shut.
‘Is that how you would describe our relationship, Miss Hayes?’ Vaughn asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
She made the mistake of looking at him and instantly regretted it. Those liquid eyes had a way of turning her brain to pulp.
‘Why don’t we let Miss Hayes answer the question,’ Caroline suggested.
Mary looked over the rim of her glasses. ‘Miss Hayes?’
‘Mr Gallo did not stalk me.’ She reached for that first memory of him, so imposing and serious in suit pants and a light blue shirt that brought out the flecks of colour in his eyes. Those eyes had pinned her in place the moment she looked into them.
Was she supposed to tell the board members that? Describe how his voice had strangled all of her senses? Admit that it still did?
‘Go on, Miss Hayes,’ Caroline said, offering a small encouraging smile. ‘Take us back to the night of preview.’
Willow opened her hands and saw that her palms were already damp. ‘It was January 12, a Friday.’
Mary pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, blinking over her glasses. ‘So we have a six-month timeline we need to work through.’ She drew a breath. ‘All right. Let’s get on with it or we’ll be here all week.’
Vaughn shifted in his chair. It was such a small movement, but Willow knew he had little tolerance for rudeness—especially when it was directed at her.
‘As many details as you can recall, Miss Hayes,’ Caroline said. ‘We’ll decide what’s relevant.’
Willow nodded slowly. ‘It was a preseason performance of Sleeping Beauty for our patrons, and my heart was beating out of my chest…’