Page 118 of Euphoria


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“You’re going to make a huge change in your life.”

Alex was about to speak when the woman shook her head. “Not you. Your path is already being walked, you are where you’re meant to be, but you.” She turned back to Morgan. “There’s a change coming, something big.”

Morgan smiled politely. “I hope so.”

“It’s stopped raining,” Alex said to Morgan before turning back to the woman, “Thank you.”

She smiled and tilted her head slightly before watching then both walk towards the door. “She’ll say yes,” she said quickly, just as Morgan reached for the door.

Alex turned back. “Sorry?”

“She’ll say yes. When you ask. The answer will be yes.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Stepping outside they both burst into giggles.

“Well, that was weird.” Morgan laughed. “Come on, we’ve got to get back.”

Chapter Sixty-Two

St Paul’s- London

Princesses and Queens had walked these aisles and been watched and heard by the people of the day who had venerated them. Now, Alex stood on the stage and looked out at where her audience would sit and listen to her later that evening.

There had been something missing in her life for a long time, and her mother was right. Francine had been, too. It wasn’t just love, it wasn’t just music, it wasn’t just anything; it was everything, it was the reason she existed at all. Passion. She’d lost it somewhere along the road between the accident all those years ago and where she was now.

She’d spent all those years trying to prove herself to everybody else when everyone else was just waiting for her to prove it to herself. She was Sasha, and her music had transcended everything else in her world for so long that when love was offered, it was she who had pushed it away. Not the Laurels of the world, or the Calistas; well, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. She chuckled to herself at that thought.

“You okay?” Francine asked. “Something funny?”

Alex stared down at her. “I was just thinking how lucky I was to have avoided a romance with Dr Urquhart.”

“Alright, I’m not even going to ask why that thought is in your head.” She climbed the stairs up to the stage. “But I’m glad you picked the right doctor.”

“Where is Morgan?” They’d not seen each other all morning. Alex had left earlier than usual. The tour until now had been in reasonably small venues, but St Paul’s was a different kettle of fish altogether. Over 1600 people would attend this recital.

Francine answered, “Entertaining her family at the hotel. They just arrived, and she said something about seeing her niece for the first time in—”

“Yes, Christie, she was very excited about it. I didn’t realise it was that time already.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Francine smiled. Because Alex was having fun again. The joy when she played was obvious for all to see and hear. “I’ll leave you to it. But hair and make-up in ten.”

Alex nodded and started up with one of her newer compositions, loud and upbeat. Allegretto, allegro, vivace, and presto. Her hands flew across the keys, lifting her from the stool till she was almost upright as the music crashed into crescendo.

“Bravo.” A figure she recognised walked towards the stage, clapping furiously. “Bravissima.”

“Goran, what are you doing here?” She stood up and made her way down the steps. He was the last person she had expected to hear from.

“I came to see when are we working together, Alex? I give you time. I see the news, the passion. Oh, my, you push her hard into the pool, huh?” He chuckled. “I need to work with this, to create with this.” His hand waved around her.

“You still want to work with me? After everything that’s happened?”

“You go to court, you take the fine, pay her off, I don’t care, we build a gangster reputation.” He laughed again. “Come on, Alexandra, don’t leave me hanging, begging. I’m a proud man.”

“I’d be honoured, Goran, but I have a stipulation. I don’t want to create just an album. I want to tell a story.” She smiled and walked him up the steps of the stage towards her piano. “I want to create something that is more. I want it to flow, from the beginning, those first tentative movements towards something brighter, flowing into the veins of those who listen and bringing them along on a journey of love, lust, and something hot. Something that burns the soul and leaves the listener wanting it for themselves.”

He grinned. “I think we can work together very well. And soon, okay? I want to embrace this passion, yes? We are going to create magic together.”

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