AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Of that, I have no doubt," he says confidently, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Now, If you'll excuse us," he points at Martin. "We gentlemen will leave you to it. It has been requested we don't remain on the ground. However, we have vetted the clients, and you are in good hands. We are reachable by call, of course. You may proceed on stage in 20 minutes. That should give you enough time to warm up."
"Wait," I say, suddenly panicking. "Martin, what if I falter?"
Martin leans over and hugs me. "You are perfection," he whispers in my ear. "When you fear, think of your journey."
I nod, remembering the thousands of hours I have sung. I am safe, and I am honored. The Chairman of the Met Philadelphia came to greet me personally. I must mean something to someone to be here.
The men leave—fifteen minutes to curtain up. Now left alone, I do another voice exercise to try to steady my racing heart. My thoughts swirl around the enigmatic patron - someone influential enough to request a private performance and impressthe chairman of the Met. Their identity remains shrouded in mystery.
As I stand in the wings, peering out at the vacant theater, I imagine what it will be like to sing for a private audience. Will they be in the theater seats? It's unlikely since I go on stage in seven minutes. Will they be watching from the shadows, or will they reveal themselves once my aria begins?
The anticipation is both thrilling and terrifying, igniting a fire within me that I've never felt before.
Two minutes later, as I stepped onto the stage, the lights casting their warm glow around me, I knew that tonight's performance would be unlike any other.
There's still no one here. The stage lights suddenly blaze to life, flooding my vision with a merciless white light. Blinking away the spots that dance before my eyes, I take a deep breath and let the opening notes of "O mio babbino caro" fill the air. I'm singing for myself, and it is freeing.
I don't care that the audience never showed up. I don't care if I make a fool of myself. I sing alone on the stage of the Met Philadelphia.
As I sing, my heart swells with emotion, each word infused with a tender passion reserved only for those moments when music transcends reality. My voice soars, filling the empty theater and reverberating through its hallowed halls.
It's as though the very walls are listening, their silence echoing the gravity of this intimate performance.
"Ma per buttarmi in Arno," I continue, my hands trembling slightly as I clasp them together. The powerful emotions coursing through me threaten to break free in a torrent of tears as I imagine Lauretta telling her father how she loves Rinuccio, how she'd kill herself in the river Arno if she can't have him, but I hold them back, channeling every ounce of feeling into my voice instead.
"Mi struggo e mi tormento!!"I sing, envisioning the beautiful affair of falling in love with a man forbidden. I find myself swept up in the magic of my song, transported to another time and place far from the shadows lurking in the corners of the opera house.
As I reach the climax of the aria, I close my eyes, allowing the music to guide me, to elevate me, until I'm no longer standing on that stage alone but walking hand in hand with my beloved through the streets of Italy. The raw emotion within me surges, my voice cracking ever so slightly as I fight back tears that now beg to spill forth.
"O Dio, vorrei morir!" I cry out, my voice reverberating through the space as if pleading with the divine to bear witness to this moment.
My heart hammers against my ribcage, the intensity of the experience both exhilarating and overwhelming. I can't help but wonder, is this what it truly feels like to be alive? To pour one's soul into a performance so completely that the lines between reality and fantasy blur?
"Babbo, pietà, pietà," – Father, have pity, have pity! – I whisper one last time, my voice fading into the stillness of the theater.
For a moment, all is quiet – as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for the spell to be broken.
I open my eyes on the last note, allow them to adjust to the light, and then, I finally see him. There, sitting alone in the theater, is Philippe. His gaze is fixed solely on me as if he's trying to look right into my soul. His intensity sends shivers down my spine.
"Philippe," I breathe, my voice barely a whisper, the name both foreign and familiar on my lips. I thought he had forgotten all about me, and yet, here I stand.
My heart races as I realize the gravity of this moment. I'm performing for him and him alone. He's gone to great lengths to orchestrate this private performance just for us.
He stands, and I'm reminded of the night we first met – how he looked at me with that same hunger as if he wanted to ravishme right there and then. Something stirs in my heart as the memories flood my mind.
The way his rough hands moved against my skin ignited a fire within me. How his lips felt like velvet as they caressed mine in a passionate embrace. How it felt when he finally pushed deep inside of me and made love to me with a fierceness that left us both breathless.
Philippe stares at me still, his gaze never wavering from mine, and I feel myself surrendering to the intensity of this moment. He wants more from me – more than just this performance – but as to what that is, I'll only know once we're done here.
And we've only just begun. Nervous, shy, naked in his stare, I clench my trembling hands together and part my lips, drawing a breath of air before I call for the man who never forgot me.
Chapter 11
Philippe
I sit in the empty theater, my gaze fixated on the stage as Tatiana performs just for me. Captivated, I watch her like captured prey; eyes glazed over with lust for her beauty. I greedily drink in the sight of her, taking her in piece by piece, from her delicate features to her voluptuous curves and back again.
She's between arias now, and she's realized it's me who asked for her tonight. Just seconds ago, she was pouring every breath into words, and now, she's trying to catch every breath. I can see her tremble, mesmerized by my attention.
