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“Spa, hair, clothes, and show.”
“We’re doing all that just to go to a show?”
Paul lifted his chin. “It’s what is done.”
What he really meant was it was what he wanted us to do, not that I complained. I took a selfie in the mud bath and sent it to Xander and Mom. After my mineral bath and massage, I received a picture of my dad and mom wearing cowboy hats and horse-riding, which put me more at ease knowing they were having a good time and enjoying their first vacation in years.
I got my hair braided into a style similar to a Targaryen’s fromHouse of the Dragon. Then I met Tricia at the house, where we chose a black, mirror-embroidered organza gown with faux ostrich feathers and heels. We kept the makeup muted but with a redder shade of lip-gloss than I usually wore. When I looked at myself, I couldn’t stop turning around.I look amazing.
I went down to the dining room and waited for Paul. When he appeared behind me, my breath caught in my throat.
Paul was spellbinding in his black velvet tuxedo and metallic shoes. His hair was styled in waves, and his facial hair was neatly trimmed. He looked like a dark prince, and I was captivated, as I always was with him.
“You look stunning as always.” He kissed me and took my hand, and we left for the opera.
There was a large tapestry of Bianca singing and Lorenzo conducting before the building. We dressed almost theatrically, but that was the season’s theme. All that was old was new again, and that became even more apparent when we arrived at the show. We were the most modest, as attendees gave in to the dramatic clothing of the theme. There were vibrant couture gowns and brightly sequined suits. There were even a few who were topless, their skin painted gold, and one person had on only a three-tiered tulle skirt. I was enthralled, behaving a little like a tourist taking a few photos, until Paul said, “I’ll make sure you have a copy of everything here.”
I thought we’d go to our seats, but Paul showed me the line we had to do before the red carpet. Even though his show was sold-out, he was expected to promote himself and his brand, which now included me as his public girlfriend.
“They’ve been warned not to ask you about Justus Black, your birth mom, or your family. If they do, we go inside without another word.”
I nodded in understanding. Still, my pulse jumped as we walked in front of the camera row. My hands felt clammy in Paul’s, and I held on to it while stopping for questions.
“We have Paul Crane, recipient of an Oscar, Bafta, Grammy, Ivor’s Composer Winner, Yasmin Awards, BMI, and so many others, here to see his dear friend Lorenzo Rossi’s controversial composition of Handel’sRinaldotonight atTeatro La Scala. Do you think it’ll be a triumph or tragedy?”
Paul’s smile broadened. Her question was a bit cheeky, but he answered her, “Lorenzo never disappoints, and Bianca’s soprano is sublime. Without a doubt, we are in for a triumph.”
“Will you reveal new music tomorrow night at your sold-out show?”
“You’ll have to see.”
“And for yourself, Ms. Nadia Sokol? How do you feel about seeing the opera tonight?”
I was caught off guard when she switched to me, but I quickly answered, “I’m excited and honored to attend tonight.”
“Will you also see Justus Black perform again when he returns on his European tour?”
I smiled as Paul led me away from her, and we walked straight into the hall.
I frowned. “She got her juicy reaction, I guess.”
Paul scoffed. “Fuck it. Let’s enjoy tonight.”
Yeah. Fuck it.
The lights dimmed for us all to take our seats, and we were escorted to the box.
Lorenzo came out to rousing applause and took his place at his podium. The curtain rose, and some in the audience gasped—the actor portrayal of Rinaldo was covered in body paint defining his muscles similar to the style of Bernini’s baroque marble sculptures. I instantly saw the connection with the Hades Capturing Persephone piece.
“Handel arias are excessive, but this show will bring you to your knees.”
Paul was correct. As the beautiful arias soared into heaven, I was on the edge of my seat. The music was nothing short of spectacular, and I was sure I’d heard some of the songs before.
As Almirena dressed as Persephone, Bianca had a voice like a goddess. I couldn’t get over her being so humble today when she could blow the roof off a building with her soprano.
Paul squeezed my hand as she started to sing,Lascia ch’io pianga, and I was awestruck. She expressed her fear with her whole body, as well as her voice. It was as good as Bernini’s baroque. Powerful. Beautiful. Emotional.
We were all carried away by her anguish and hopelessness, and tears fell down my face.
