Текст книги "Crazy for Him"

Автор книги: Sofia Tate

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CHAPTER THREE

Northern Italy

Present day

And you did, didn’t you? You did remind me.”

My husband smiles back at me quickly before focusing again on the road ahead. “Yes, my love, I did remind you every time. Especially that night of the benefit at Davison’s parents’ house. You looked so beautiful in that yellow silk gown. It took every ounce of strength I had not to drag you into a closet and have my way with you.”

I soften at his admission. “You never told me that before.”

“I’m telling you now,” he replies with a wink.

I take Tomas’s hand that’s holding mine and kiss the back of it. “Ano. Dekuji,” I say yes and thank him in his native Czech. “It definitely eases the memory of the rest of that night. I still cringe every time I think of Allegra lying on those stairs. But you saved the day that night, you know.”

“How could I save the day if it happened that night?”

I can’t help but laugh in amusement. He’s still learning. “When a person saves the day, it means that something happened that solved a problem. And in your case, it helped Allegra understand how Davison really felt about her. That was also the night something else happened.”

A knowing grin comes over Tomas’s gorgeous face. “That I shall never forget.”

*  *  * Lucy

The home of Mr. & Mrs. Hartwell Berkeley

7 Sutton Square

New York, NY

Six years ago

I sit frozen in the gold-backed chair in the Berkeley ballroom, along with the other guests. I’m mesmerized. All other thoughts escape my mind. I had absolutely no idea.

Tomas’s voice is pure male strength. It is virile. It is alive. It is a force. It draws me to him and makes me want to know everything about this man, this man who I thought at first was an annoyance, like a buzzing bee that won’t stop whirring around your head no matter how many times you swat at it.

The control he has over “Nessun dorma,” Pavarotti’s signature aria, is commanding. He makes you take notice of him. He makes you understand the lyrics, despite the words being in Italian, because of his gestures and the way he makes you pay attention to him with those penetrating blue eyes of his.

And then he hits those three last lines, singing Puccini’s lyrics about the hero, Calaf, knowing that he will triumph and win the heart of Princess Turandot, the lyrics with the high C that no tenor has ever come close to nailing as perfectly as Pavarotti.

Until now.

Tomas Novotny owned it. He made those lines his bitch.

The entire room of privileged blue bloods is on its feet applauding wildly. I rise from my chair along with the others as tears fall from my eyes, my entire body covered in goose bumps.

He bows graciously to the crowd, placing his hand over heart as a sign of gratitude, then turning to Derek, our accompanist, repeating the same gesture.

I’m not the swooning type, but I can’t help myself. He’s so gallant. Such a gentleman.

It’s been two weeks since I ran into him in the cafeteria. After he erased the Loser List from my phone, he texted me that night to ensure I hadn’t re-created it and to prove it to him, he asked me to meet him for coffee the next day. I showed him my phone, then a huge smile appeared across his face. That weekend I met him at his apartment in Queens, and he took me out to brunch at his favorite Czech restaurant in Astoria.

He’s playing it cool with me, and I’m fine with that. I’m being cautious as well, but with every gesture, he inches closer and closer to winning me over. He opens the door for me, he stands up when I leave or return to our table, and when I met him at the subway station, he presented me with one single red rose.

No man I dated before did any of those things for me. I like being with him because he treats me like a woman deserves to be treated. He makes me laugh, and at the same time he gets under my skin because he challenges me, but that makes me want him even more.

I feel like I could truly fall in love with him, but I’m not giving in to my feelings yet, as much as I just want to jump him and kiss him until all my oxygen is depleted. But he hasn’t made a move yet either, which I found disconcerting at first, but now I’m almost glad we haven’t kissed because that would just completely change everything. For now, the handholding, the deep stares with his eyes, and the feeling of his chest, The Wall, against mine when he hugs me will tide me over.

As Tomas approaches me, his seat being next to mine, my throat suddenly grows parched and I cannot regain any train of thought. When he finally reaches our row, we simply stare at each other. Without realizing I’m even doing it, I reach for his hands and tightly grip them in mine. We just gaze at each other, no words ever being exchanged.

It is that moment when Mrs. Berkeley’s voice pierces our intimate bubble. “Bravo, Tomas. Thank you for that stirring rendition of ‘Nessun dorma.’ And now, Allegra returns to join our other soprano this evening, Luciana Gibbons, for the ‘Flower Duet’ from Delibes’ opera, Lakmé, which I’m sure all of you will recognize. Ladies, if you please.”

Amid all the welcoming applause, Tomas quickly leans in to whisper something to me. “I forgot to tell you something, Luciana.”

“What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

A wave of warmth envelops me as Tomas swiftly runs his lips over my cheek. Electric sparks ignite every nerve ending in my body, and my core clenches at his gentle caress, giving me just a hint of what I hope will eventually happen between us—his chiseled lips over mine finally giving me the kiss I’ve been waiting for. The anticipation slays me when I think about it, but I can wait. I’ve waited this long to meet someone like him, so I’ll remain patient. I give him a wide smile, then walk the few steps to the front of the room, joining Allegra at the other microphone.

We begin to sing, and I notice some faces registering an “Oh, that song” look because they remember it from that old British Airways commercial.

Allegra and I are both in the zone, totally in sync with each other. But then I notice something on the screen behind her shoulder that’s not displaying the Gotham Conservatory logo anymore like it was before. Instead, it’s showing old photos of a mother and her child, and then old newspaper clippings, and then…

Oh fuck.

It’s the picture of Allegra as a five-year-old being carried to safety by a police officer from the NYPD after they’d found her. She’d been hiding for days after seeing her mother murdered in front of her. I’m the only person besides her father who knows who Allegra is. She changed her name after the event and has never told anyone what happened to her.

Allegra notices the distress on my face. She turns around and I know she can now see what’s showing on the screen. Before I can stop her, she rushes out of the room. My mouth drops just as Tomas runs up to me.

“What can I do?” he asks breathlessly.

“Sing. Now,” I hiss under my breath.

He nods and I haul myself from the front of the room to find Allegra as the opening notes of ‘La donna è mobile’ waft behind me.

Just as I head for the room where we had rehearsed before the benefit, I see Allegra lying facedown on the staircase, Davison hovering over her.

My skin grows cold and I start to feel ill at the sight of my best friend. “Oh my God!”

Whatever happened, I know Davison is the cause of it.

“Get away from her!” I snap at him. “Can you move, Alli?”

Slowly, she begins to turn herself around using her elbows. Then Money Boy, as I prefer to call Davison, proceeds to take it upon himself to announce that he’s taking her to the hospital.

Like hell he is. “I’m going with her,” I inform him.

Then I can hear Allegra whisper, “Lucy, get me out of here. Please.”

Done.

“You heard her, Davison,” I bark at him.

He replies with typical arrogance, “I don’t care,” and picks up Allegra in his arms.

Fuck that.

I run upstairs to grab my purse and hurry back down, following Davison outside to his waiting limo and helping myself into the front seat before anyone can stop me.

*  *  * Tomas

I look out toward the open door through which Luciana has just disappeared. I rush to Derek, our accompanist, and whisper “La donna è mobile” to him. Once I take my place at the microphone, I nod to him and he begins to play. I sing it as best I can, trying to keep my mind focused despite my thoughts wandering to Luciana and hoping all is well with Allegra.

I finish and take a bow, watching as some guests begin to leave. I look over at Mrs. Berkeley, who waves her hand at me to sing something more. I think I need to sing something uplifting.

I instantly think of the perfect aria and quickly walk over to Derek again, leaning in to his ear. “Do you know ‘Ah! Mes Amis’ from Donizetti’s La fille du régiment?”

Derek snorts at me in reply, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Give me a break. Get back to the mic, young man.”

I assume that means he knows it. I’m still learning all these American idioms and expressions, which can be so confusing. Someone once said to me, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” What could that possibly mean?

Once again at the microphone, I inhabit the role of Tonio, a young Swiss Tyrolean who has just joined a regiment of soldiers in his village during the Napoleonic Wars. This particular aria is very difficult with nine high Cs for the tenor to reach. But I seem to do all right judging by the audience’s enthusiastic reaction.

I bow to the guests as Mrs. Berkeley rises from her chair in the front row and comes toward me. She gives me a peck on the cheek and steps up to the microphone.

“My friends, ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming this evening and for your generous donations to the Gotham Conservatory. Please make sure to collect a gift bag on your way out. Get home safely. Good night and thank you again.”

I watch the audience begin to leave when Mrs. Berkeley takes my arm and gives me a quick embrace.

“Thank you so much, Tomas. You truly saved the evening for me.”

“It was my pleasure, madam. I only hope Allegra is all right.”

She nods, a look of concern crossing her face. “Knowing my son, I’m sure she is. As well as Luciana. She went with her when Davison took her to New York-Presbyterian.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a hospital not too far from here, just up York Avenue…”

My blood begins to pump faster, my fists clenching.

What? Hospital?

“…would you excuse me? I have a few things to attend to.”

I realize Mrs. Berkeley was still speaking to me. I nod my head absently. “Certainly.”

A wave of emotion overwhelms me, my heart racing, my mind conjuring so many different images, and before I can comprehend what’s happening, my feet carry me out of the ballroom and down the stairs. I rush for the street and hail a cab.

“New York-Presbyterian Hospital on York Avenue,” I order the cab driver, just as Mrs. Berkeley told me.

He nods and begins driving north. I watch the traffic lights, willing each one to turn green as we make our way up the wide street. I grab the edge of the plastic seat cushion under me with my fists, frustration and impatience coursing through me.

Finally, I see signs for the hospital as the taxi comes to a sharp stop in front of the imposing limestone building. I pay the driver and get out, coming face to face with Luciana as she grabs the handle of the door.

Her beautiful blue eyes open widely at the sight of me, mirroring my exact reaction upon seeing her. We both freeze in place.

“Tomas? What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Berkeley told me you were here with Allegra. Is she all right?”

A rough voice yells from the driver’s seat. “Hey, you two coming or going?”

Luciana pushes me back into the car. “Come on. I need to go back to the house to get my stuff. I’ll explain on the way.”

I do as I’m told, because the frightened look in her eyes unnerves me, and all I want to do now is comfort her.

“Back to Sutton Square, please. The end of East Fifty-eighth Street,” she tells the driver.

The cabbie turns left and begins his way back southbound to the house. Luciana leans back on the seat and lets out a deep breath.

I take her hand in mine and gently press it. “What happened to Allegra?”

“As far as I could tell, Allegra was trying to leave and Davison wouldn’t let her, she tried to pull away from him, and then fell down the stairs.”

A disturbing thought grips me. “He didn’t push her, did he?”

Luciana shakes her head furiously. “No, no. I’m not crazy about the guy, but I know he’d never do something like that to her. He picked her up and carried her to his car. I had just enough time to get my purse and go with them. I called her father and he met us there. Davison wanted to talk to her, but Mr. Orsini and I chased him away because she needed the rest and because she asked him to leave.”

I move in closer to Luciana, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She settles herself into my body, her soft curves pressing into me, and I hold her even tighter, reveling in the feel of her against me, something I’ve wanted again desperately ever since she first bumped into me. And then I realize I’ve wanted this warmth ever since I left the Czech Republic. I left behind so much sadness, grief, and pure hopelessness. Being around Luciana reminds me what I want, what I miss in my life. This closeness, this warmth with another human being. And I want all of it with her.

I swallow the lump in my throat before I continue. “Luciana, who was in those videos?”

She sighs audibly before replying. “Allegra. When she was five, her mother was murdered in front of her. She ran away and hid until the police found her two days later. That picture of her in the cop’s arms…that was right after they found her.”

I shut my eyes at the thought of Allegra having to go through something as horrible as that. “That is so awful. Did they ever find who killed her?”

“Oh yeah, Carlo Morandi, the asshole who then went on to kidnap Allegra last year. Long story. But he’s dead, thank God. Good riddance to bad rubbish. I’ll tell you the whole story some other time.”

I nod my head, watching as the taxi stops in front of the house. I pay the fare, following Luciana as she gets out of the car.

Once we’re standing on the sidewalk, she turns to me and looks up into my eyes. Hers carry fatigue in them, which breaks my heart after such a wonderful evening.

“Would you want to grab a bite with me somewhere? I’m starving.”

My stomach lets out a growl. “There’s your answer.”

She gives me a small smile, which sends my heart soaring because any smile she gives me does that to me. “Great,” she whispers. “Let’s go get our stuff. Maybe we’ll find a diner on First. I’d kill for a tuna melt and fries right now.”

We walk back into the house and up the rounded staircase to the room where we left our things before the concert started. Luciana takes some clothes out of her bag. “I can’t wait to get out of this dress.”

Just as she opens the door to go to the bathroom to change, clothes and purse in hand, loud voices begin to echo from the hallway. “What the fuck?” I hear her say under her breath.

I take a few steps toward her. “What is it?”

“Shh!” she hisses back at me. “Holy shit! It’s Davison and some blonde chick.” A few more shouts. “Oh my God, I think it’s Ashton!”

“Who is Ashton?”

“His ex.”

Without warning, Luciana pushes me back into the room, drops her bag to the floor, and starts to look for something frantically. When pulls out her phone, she curses. “Fuck. It’s dead.”

Suddenly, she rises up from the floor and her hands begin roaming over me, front to back, and then inside my jacket.

What the hell…

“Luciana, what are you doing?” I whisper back to her, rather demandingly, because as much as I would love this to happen under any other circumstances, what she was doing was not of a romantic nature.

“Give me your phone!” she hisses back at me under her breath. “We have to get this on video for Allegra!”

I take her insistent hands in mine and push them off me. “Woman, would you wait? I’ll get it.”

“Hurry up! And let me—”

I give her a slight nudge to the side. “My phone. I’ll tape it.”

“Fine! Just do it already!”

Luciana steps back so I can stand in front of her to get the perfect angle on my phone, aiming it at Davison and the blonde woman.

“I love you, Davis. We’re perfect together. You know we are. And I did it all by myself. Your father had nothing to do with it,” the blonde woman says to Davison.

Luciana gasps behind me. “Oh my God!” she whispers. “She’s the one who set up those videos! I’m gonna go kick her ass!”

I block her way out. “No, Luciana. Just wait,” I hiss back at her over my shoulder.

Davison shouts back at this Ashton woman, “Davison, Ashton! My name is Davison.” He pauses. “Oh my God, you hired some PI to investigate her, didn’t you?”

Ashton replies something, and then a sharp voice rings out. I watch as Davison’s mother steps into the hallway, calling the blonde woman a “bloody shrew” and a “little bitch.” Finally, she orders her to get her “skinny, bottle-blonde ass” out of her house.

The blonde then leaves but not before threatening Davison’s mother, who then tells the blonde that she’s the “one who’ll be sorry.”

I watch as Mrs. Berkeley steps closer to her son, but in a rage, he spins around and punches the wall, with his mother shouting his name.

Enough.

Luciana taps me on the arm. “Turn it off, Tomas. That’s enough. Leave him be.”

I turn off the video and ease back into the room, shoving the phone back inside my jacket pocket.

Luciana grabs my arms, shaking them, pure joy illuminating her eyes.

“Oh my God! Tomas, you’re amazing! We have to show this to Allegra when—”

I don’t even think. I pull Luciana’s face to mine and kiss her hard. I can’t hold back any longer. As desperate as I was to kiss her since I first met her, I just couldn’t for two reasons. I didn’t want to be like the other men she’d been with before who only wanted one thing from her. I wanted her to know that I liked being with her because of who she is as a person, that it was important to me to know her better before we moved onto something more serious.

But I also waited because I was so conflicted. There are times when I think I don’t deserve to be happy, and it won’t matter if things escalate between us because it will all fall apart in the end. Because of what happened back home, a dark cloud will always hover over me, reminding me that I indeed was happy once, married to my childhood sweetheart, but after the unexpected tragedy that tore us apart and should’ve made our relationship stronger, I turned into a coward and left everything behind because I was too selfish to deal with what happened properly, instead running away.

It takes her a second, but then she returns the kiss with her tongue. She tastes so delicious, so sweet. I don’t want to stop. Her lips are so soft and lush.

We finally do pull back, but only mere inches. I can feel her warm breath on my face.

Her eyes are soft and glazed over when she looks at me. “I can’t believe that’s what I’ve been missing all this time. I’m a fucking idiot.”

I laugh at her admission. Even though she puts up a strong front, I can see how vulnerable she is, which makes me want her all the more. “Yes, you are. It’s about time, I might add.”

She takes my hands into hers, looking down at them. “I was just scared, you know. All that stuff I told you in the cafeteria at school. It wasn’t bullshit.”

I kiss the top of her head, the scent of her shampoo that smells like wildflowers wafting up to my nose. “I know it wasn’t. Just like it wasn’t bullshit when I told you that I would remind you that you’re beautiful whenever I see you. I haven’t failed in that, have I?”

She smiles so sweetly at me. “No, you haven’t.”

Luciana untangles our hands, then takes my face between her palms and kisses me once more. I wrap my arms around her warm body, loving the feel of her curves under my hands.

This time when we pull apart, something inside me clenches and I look away, shutting my lips together firmly. Without warning, Luciana takes my face back in her hands, hard. She looks at me straight in the eyes, worry crossing her face. “Okay, Prague Boy, what’s wrong?”

My eyebrows narrow. I tilt my head at her. “What?”

“You tell me. I pulled away and you looked to the side, as if you couldn’t stand the sight of me. Like you’d rather be anywhere else but with me.”

Shit.

I didn’t mean it, my love.

What? My love?

No, it’s not love. It can’t be. Not yet. Just tell her. Tell her everything, then reassure her that you like her. That you want to be with her.

And then the coward returns.

I give her a wide grin. “How do you say, ‘news report’?”

“News flash?” she asks carefully.

I smile widely at her. “Yes, that’s it. News flash, Luciana. Nothing is wrong. Everything is right. I’m crazy about you, and I want to be with you. I hope you realize that.”

Her light blue eyes shine back at me with unshed tears. “I do. I just didn’t think I’d ever hear that from a guy.”

“Well, now you have. And I just hope you feel the same way about me.”

“I do, but now I need to do something else.”

“What?”

“Make up for lost time,” she replies before grabbing my head once more and slamming her lips over mine.