Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I drag my gaze back down, half dreading what I’ll see. George is staring up at me again, his expression thunderous, his shoulders tight. I get a small amount of pleasure from knowing that I did that. That I have the power to make him feel a fraction of how I have felt these last few weeks. His date leans toward him as if speaking, though he doesn’t appear to hear a word. And for the first time since I met him, I don’t care if I’ve hurt him.
Let him look crestfallen. Let him stew. Because he hurt me first. He threw me over and found a blonde to replace me. So, fuck him. He deserves it. Right now, I can still taste Rhett on my lips, and the memory alone makes my skin tingle, and a shiver runs through me.
The overture swells, violins slicing through the air with aching beauty that feels like they are playing it just for me. Because that is the way my heart feels. It feels swollen. The curtain finally rises.
I try to focus. I really do.
The stage is a feast for the eyes with ornate sets painted like oil masterpieces, actors in sumptuous costumes from times gone by. The music rises and falls, carrying me on waves of sound so powerful they press against my chest.
But my mind is fractured. Half of me is still stuck in that kiss, replaying it on a loop, cataloguing every sensation from the press of Rhett’s lips to the way his hand lingered against my cheek to the shocking hunger he aroused in me. That was unexpected. I never thought I would ever feel anything like that in my life. I thought I was into safe and dependable. Here is danger, and I’m openly flirting with it. Even my pulse hasn’t settled yet. My body is humming, restless, alive in ways I hate to admit.
The other half of me keeps darting back to George. I could never give him up. Not after I’ve invested so much time and energy into him. Certainly not for the scent of danger, and a fling with a foreigner. Rhett will finish his stint in London and go back to America and then, what will I do? Every so often, I risk a glance down at George. Sometimes he’s watching the stage. Sometimes he’s sneaking a look up at me. Our eyes catch once, briefly, before I snap mine away, my heart clenching with a bittersweet ache. And guilt. I’ve never been unfaithful to him. Not even my thoughts … until now.
Rhett shifts beside me, his knee brushes mine, his hand resting warm on the armrest between us.
The soprano launches into an anguished aria that soars like something unearthly. It’s not the same as listening to the radio or a music player. Her voice fills the hall, raw with passion, climbing higher and higher until I swear the walls themselves must be vibrating with the sound. A shiver races down my spine, and unexpected tears prickle in my eyes. I’ve read the storyline in English. Just like me, she too is torn between two men.
I glance at Rhett, and he’s watching me instead of the stage. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between curiosity and surprise, but soft, too. Like he’s pleased I’m moved.
I quickly look away, flustered and confused by my reactions to Rhett.
The act unfolds, all tragedy, love, and betrayal, and though I miss chunks of the story because it’s in Italian and I’m still wrestling with my own traitorous thoughts. I catch enough to be swept along. There’s a grandeur to it, an unapologetic intensity that makes my own life feel suddenly smaller. Safe and passionless.
When the curtain falls for the last time, and the audience erupts in a thunderstorm of applause, I clap frantically too, my palms tingling. I feel breathless as if I’ve run a race. I turn to Rhett, my lips parting, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
“That was … I don’t even have words. Incredible. Beautiful. I … I think I’ve fallen in love with opera.”
His smile is slow, smug, as if he’s won something. “And it just took one evening to convert you.”
I laugh, shaking my head, though inside I’m still reeling. From the performance. From the kiss. From the jealous way George looked at me. From how tempted I was by the scent of danger, but rose above it.
Maybe this whole plan is working better than I imagined. Or maybe it’s spiraling completely out of my control.
Chapter Sixteen
Pippa
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and adjust the strap of my dress for what must be the tenth time. It’s one of those outfits that toes the line between classy and dangerous, a midnight blue cocktail dress that clings like liquid against my skin. The neckline is modest enough to appease the sophisticated part of me, but the back plunges scandalously low, revealing more skin than I’d usually show.