CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
S ky Princess and The Shadow Kingdom, one of the other book samples to submit, had me up early with a vivid story vision. I rushed to the studio and sat on the draft board with pencils and paper to draw my first sketch. It was of Brenna Strongborne, the determined young heroine with a furrowed brow, large eyes, and a pout on her bow lips. I sketched her hands fisted at her sides, dressed in a smock shirt and star leggings, a cardboard crown perched on her wild blonde curls, and costume fairy wings.
My next iteration had the hero Brenna sitting on a rope rug with her elderly dad before a worn recliner chair near a fireplace as he read a fantasy tale about the Sky Princess hiding from the Shadow Prince and his army. The flames of the fire rose, and I drew dark knights riding winged horses and looking for her. But they needed the missing music box to find her.
After a quick review of the short story brief, I focused my following images on the story’s rising action: the day her dad had to leave for the nursing home, and she was to go to a new foster family. I drew Brenna running up to the attic to hide—the next of her knocking over the box and tumbling on the floor. The music box, a key element in the story, starts to play, lulling the little girl into a deep sleep and taking her soul.
The final sketches were of her spirit rising and the attic window opening. A giant glowing ball floats towards her, and three fairies fly out, beckoning her to return to the sky world to marry the Shadow Prince. Over and over, I recreated the scenes repeatedly, adding more detail to the sketch and bringing the images to life. It had me so absorbed that I didn’t hear Rocco until I stopped and glanced behind me. He stood quietly in the room, already dressed for work, in an Armani suit and tie.
I came to the studio straight from the bed, wearing a glacier blue lace camisole with shorts. They were the least sexy pajamas I found in my closet, as Nadia had said she’d mix up sexy clothes with practical ones, and I guess this was her compromise.
Rocco’s gaze roamed all over me, with a slight smile on his lips. He walked over, and I held my breath, my pulse racing. He stopped at my side and lightly tugged the messy, loose braid down my back. “Pretty.” His voice was soft, intimate. That and his intense presence brought a tingling to my skin. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you—”
“No, uh, I mean you’re not. I’m happy you stopped in.” My tone was light. Over the past few days, I’d hoped to see him instead of briefly at lunch, when he only had time for a quick update before leaving. He still called, but even those conversations were about our work.
He leaned closer, and I could feel my heart pound as his eyes moved over my sketches. His spicy scent filled my nostrils and a warmth spread inside me. He’d become a part of my peace.
“This is how they are in order,” I told him, showing him each piece and explaining the story. “I love the fantasy. It feels preteen.”
“These are fantastic, Adelina. I’m highly impressed.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at his praise, but I knew they needed more work.
“They’re just sketches. I have a direction now, and I know I can make them much better.”
“You’re modest. I am drawn into the story just looking at them.” His eyes darted over the images. “Readers will love it.”
I chuckled. “How do you know?”
“Because I do…at first sight.”
I playfully touched his arm, and his hand closed over it with a charged touch. My breath rushed as he lingered, and then he slowly let go.
I lowered my eyelids.
“I also have some news,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ve got a few production and studio meetings set in Los Angeles.”
My mouth went dry. “You’re leaving?”
“I am for the rest of the week.” He exhaled long.
“When?”
“Early tomorrow morning. Red-eye flight.”
I tilted my chin down and frowned. It took effort to remain angry with him. He told me the truth. And while I didn’t forgive Luca for what he’d done, I wasn’t mad anymore, especially not with Rocco. I was more concerned about how he felt about me. Did he ever question if Luca manipulated him into liking me?
He touched my back and rubbed up and down, and I swallowed hard. I was being silly. On the one hand, I pushed him away, but I didn’t want him so far away from me. Still, I understood how important all this was for him and tried to give him as much support as he’d given me.
“Sorry. It’s good. I hope the meetings work out.”
“Me, too. But the real reason I’m going now is to clear my schedule for our honeymoon.”
I tried and failed to constrain my shocked expression. “We’re still having a honeymoon?”
He dropped his hand and took out his phone. “Yes, we are. We’ll have a stop in London before returning here. But tonight, I’m taking you out. How about we go see the Broadway show Sunset Blvd?”
I bounced on the cushion in my seat. “Oh my God. Wow, but how can we get tickets? I read it’s sold out for months.”
He gave me a soft smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”
I laughed. “I hear it’s amazing.”
“Yes, it is,” he trilled. “The show is filmed and performed in real-time. Everyone that I know who’s seen it says it transformed them. We’ll make it a date.”
I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, and I even lifted my arms to do so but awkwardly put them back down, smiling. “I don’t want to crease your suit.”
He leaned down slowly and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You’re worth a helluva lot more than a creased suit, Bella. See you tonight.”
My hands touched where his lips had been, and the ripple of pleasure from it remained long after he left the room.
The spa and a hair appointment took most of the afternoon. I returned with my wavy hair flat-ironed, and immediately prepared to go, and be seen. We weren’t invisible in New York City, and with the Marini succession and The Age of Sin still receiving much acclaim and attention, I had to expect the press.
I took extra time dressing, settling on an embellished laced strapless mini with tied sandals. My makeup I put on was light, some liner on my brows and gloss on my lips.
Rocco returned while I was still getting ready, and I found him in the foyer talking to Rick when I went downstairs. I wanted to stare at his gorgeous profile but took his outstretched hand. “You look stunning.”
I grinned. “So do you.” He looked fashionable in his Herringbone-striped dark suit and blue-black shirt.
He shrugged. “I clean up all right.”
I laughed easily with him.
“So, are you excited?”
I bounced in my heels, “Yes.”
We all climbed inside the elevator.
Rocco kept hold of my hand, and that charge that sparked whenever we touched came to life.
“Is this your first show?” he asked, and I loved that he never assumed anything with me.
I beamed at him. “Yes, it’s my first. But I’ve seen the 1950s film.”
He nodded. “Noir. A classic.”
The elevator opened, and we left for the car. Rick opened a Bentley but stopped to photograph us with his phone.
“Thank you, Rick,” I said as I eyed Rocco, curious about it.
“Keepsakes,” he said and kissed the back of my hand.
I smiled and squeezed his arm as we took more selfies with our phones. I loved how normal it felt.
We settled in the Bentley and rode out into the night to Times Square. We could see the bright lights from the billboards long before we arrived. It had that magic that always made me think of living at full speed. I dreamed of running away to become a New York City artist. And in a way, I was. With the millions of people flowing from shops to shows. That was the thing about being an American. Everyone believed they could be the lotto winner or the next big thing.
We walked down the avenue to Saint James Theater where a marquee displayed the Sunset Blvd show. There were also patrons milling around the front. Some passing tourists took out their phones to film us, curious to see if we were noteworthy people. There were also paparazzi there, and they photographed us, but Rocco didn’t stop to speak to anyone. He took us straight to security outside. His confidence and assuredness had the person opening the door without asking for identification. But that was his life and privilege. He was his own star, and the world revolved around it. I was just as captivated still.
The security escorted us to seats on the balcony box, and we took our seats in the front. We had an uninterrupted view of the movie screen, which took up most of the stage. The show’s name, Sunset Blvd, was projected on it. The lights flashed, and he took my hand, kissing the back of it.
I squeezed his back, and the show started.
Smoke filled the theatre, setting the ambiance as the show unfolded as a film in real-time. The acting was so absorbing, and the singing was phenomenal. But I didn’t want to miss seeing Rocco’s expression and watching as the story unfolded.
It was a show about his world, the world of movies. It followed the up-and-coming and the faded actors, writers, and stars. He sat utterly riveted; his eyes shining, and he barely blinked. It was as if he didn’t want to miss a minute. That was passion. As the show progressed, I found myself drawn into the story, feeling the same emotions as the characters on stage.
The protagonist, Norma Desmond, enthralled me. Her extremes at which she fought to maintain the illusion she was still a Hollywood lead. It was a tale of getting older, too. The way the public discarded actors, forgetting all the blood, sweat, and tears that moved us from their performance. I could sympathize with feeling lost once you tasted something unique. It was hard to fall and lose everything. As with most things, Norma finally came to a point where she couldn’t even keep up her illusions. The actress sang out, “As If We Never Said Goodbye.” The song was so passionately raw, as was too human reality. Her yearning to be that vital, beloved star again. I connected to that deep pain of wanting to matter to someone. Tears stung my eyes, and I could barely catch my breath.
Rocco placed his arm around me and pulled me into his arms, and I rested my head against his chest. In that moment, I felt a deep connection with him, a warmth I missed. I’d built walls around me to protect myself just as much as Norma. But I felt deep in my soul that I didn’t want to be lonely or unloved.
I got myself together, and the show ended. We stood and gave a ten-minute standing ovation to the company, a testament to the impact of the performance. Then it was time to go, but the show’s emotional resonance remained. “What did you think about the show?”
“A complete triumph!” he enthused. “I’m in love with this production. It’s everything I adore about the movies. But I’m worried about you. Are you okay?”
I swallowed. Then, he placed his arm around me protectively as we walked down the stairs with security again to the street.
We weren’t far from the car, and with each step, I knew he would fly off soon.
I stopped walking.
“Adelina?”
I shook my head and sniffled.
Rocco clasped my arms. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
“You can’t leave.”