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My flowers will be the first step in capturing her heart.
The applause thunders through the opera house as the soprano takes her bow. I watch her intently, noting every detail - the grace with which she moves, the slight flush on her cheeks, the shy way she smiles under the adoration.
As the curtains close, I turn to Sarah. "It's time for you to return home. My driver will escort you back safely."
She gapes at me. "But Philippe, you weren't being serious?"
I wave her words aside. "As I’ve said, I have business to attend to." I nod to one of my men. "See that Ms. Garcia gets home with all her belongings."
Sarah's face reddens, ready to make a scene. But under my steady gaze, she presses her lips together and stands.
"This isn't over, Philippe," she hisses as she snatches up her purse.
I merely arch an eyebrow. She spins on her heel and storms out, my man trailing dutifully behind.
With her gone, I take out my phone and look up the performance schedule. I book our private box for every single night. That done, I make my way backstage, with Alessandro on my heels. The halls bustle as patrons mingle and gush over the performance.
I catch snippets of praise for the soprano, rumors swirling about who she might be. A newcomer, an unknown talent brought in at the last moment.
A figure emerges from the crowd and rushes toward me. "I have what you asked for, Boss," Matteo says. I glance over the selection of flowers, nodding my approval. "The card," I hold out my hand. As I scan the message, written on fine cardstock, the same mesmerizing feelings from earlier sweep over me.
My jaw now set with determination, I make my way in search of her dressing room.
Chapter 2
Tatiana
I stand at the edge of the stage, my chest struggling with exertion as I draw in a ragged breath. The last note hangs in the air like a whisper, and the theater is so silent that I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. No one claps - not a single hand comes together.
Panic wells up inside me, threatening to choke me. Did I fail? Was my performance not enough?
My eyes sweep across the dimly lit audience, searching for any trace of approval. And then I see him. A lone figure is standing on the private balcony. He seems transfixed. Then, as if sensing my gaze, he raises his hands and starts to clap slowly and deliberately.
His applause echoes through the silence, and suddenly, the entire audience is on their feet, following his lead. Thunderousapplause fills the opera house, washing over me like a waterfall of relief and triumph.
"Brava!" someone shouts, and I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over.
"Bravo, Tatiana!" another voice calls out.
People are learning my name. And that, too, at the Met!
I'm exhilarated as the applause continues, each clap a validation of my hard work and dedication. I had been so nervous before stepping onto the stage tonight, fearing that my performance would falter under the weight of my doubt.
But now, as the thunderous ovation envelops me, I realize just how far I've come.
I wasn't even supposed to perform tonight. But our lead for Norma fell unwell quite unexpectedly. Although Martin had me trained as her understudy, I never - never - anticipated that I'd be performing in her place just this soon.
"Amazing job, Tatiana! You were incredible," Martin Thorne, my manager, gushes as he appears from behind the curtain, grabbing my arm and leading me off the stage. We move quickly, our footsteps echoing in the wings, but I have to take one last glance at the man on the balcony, the catalyst for this incredible moment.
He tilts his head, and something unspoken passes between us - a connection, an understanding. I don't know who he is, but I'm grateful for his support.
"You floored them," he laughs, his hand on the small of my back, leading me through the congratulating crowd.
"Thank you, Martin!" I say, feeling breathless and giddy. "I can't believe it went so well."
"Believe it, darling. You were born for this!" He grins at me, his eyes twinkling with pride.
We make our way through the dimly lit backstage area, pressing through the bustle of other performers and stagehands, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I can't help but replay the highlight moments of my performance in my mind, over and over and over again. It was perfection.
