But I wouldn’t allow her to stay.
No one was allowed to stay.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand, and my father’s name showed up on the screen.
It was difficult for me to see his name without feeling a rush of hatred. That man’s gaze was focused so tightly on one goal, he forgot about all the objects in his peripheral vision—including me. I was just a tool at his disposal. I did his clean and dirty work and never expected a thank-you.
I certainly wouldn’t get one now.
I left the bed and didn’t bother being gentle. Her head fell to the pillow, and she sighed as her precious sleep was disturbed. Just to be obnoxious and get her to leave, I answered the phone. “Father.” The name was nearly ironic coming from my lips. He hadn’t felt like a father for a long time. “Caspian” seemed more appropriate at this point. I walked to the table near the window and lit a cigar. Looking out the window, I could see the lights contrast against the beautiful city. Lights were pointed directly at every cathedral, illuminating the beautiful history of his amazing place. Once the smoke started to smolder, I blew it out of my mouth.
“Martin will introduce you to Arwen tonight.”
So, she had agreed to this arrangement? I hoped the woman had more class than to accept an arranged marriage. If she refused, I would have gotten out of the deal. Also, I would have respected her for it. But now it seemed like I was stuck. “Alright.” My father really expected me to go through with this, to marry and subject myself to domestic torture even though it wouldn’t change what had happened to my mother. I’d be considered selfish for refusing—but he was selfish for asking.
“He’s taking you to the opera tonight.”
Great…I was already going on a first date. I’d just fucked Bernadette thirty minutes ago, so my dick still smelled like her. But now I had to put on a suit and meet a woman I would never care for. She would have my name and my protection—but she would never have me. “Alright.”
“Do you know how to say anything else besides alright?” he challenged.
I took another puff of my cigar and felt the rage boil in my blood. “Maybe if you said something interesting, I would.”
Martin and I took our seats in the first row, but there was no sign of his daughter.
Maybe she’d had a change of heart.
If only.
Martin didn’t look as sickly when he was dressed in a suit, but his pale skin was more noticeable when the stage lights hit him. “My daughter doesn’t know about my condition…and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to her.”
I had no interest in family affairs. I gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Where is she?”
“You’ll see her in a moment. She’s the opera singer in the production tonight.”
An opera singer? I imagined a large woman blowing her pipes so the entire auditorium could hear every single note of her monstrous voice. I’d never asked for her age or a description of her appearance. Regardless of how she looked, I would despise her all the same. But if she were considerably older than me…it would just be awkward.
Minutes later, the curtain rose and the symphony began.
Standing in the center in a tight black dress was a petite woman looking out to the crowd like she owned the auditorium. She hadn’t moved her lips or made a sound, commanding the stage with her silence. White gloves reached her elbows, and the pearl necklace around her neck made her seem like royalty. With pink cheeks, lips painted the color of red roses, and thick brown hair that was pinned to the side, she looked like a porcelain doll. Her eyes were the most obvious because they were a startling blue, like the deepest ocean in the world. She didn’t blink once as she absorbed the audience, fearless as a warrior, a soldier who used her voice as a weapon. Then she began to sing…and shatter glass with the power of her voice. Strong and controlled, she weaved a beautiful picture with just her words and the way she sang them. It was loud like a cannon breaking down the entrance to a fortress, but it was so uniquely stunning that it was hypnotizing.
It only took me seconds to recognize her…the woman from the portrait.
She finished on a high note, sucking in the souls of every person in the audience before the curtains came to a close. Roses were tossed on the stage, slipping from the hands of male admirers. The symphony pulled their bows away from their strings, and the silence that followed was almost depressing.
The audience rose to its feet and clapped loudly, echoing off the high, gold-plated ceilings. It seemed to last for five minutes straight before people finally filed to the exits, wearing their suits and ball gowns.