The Prelude (A Musical Interlude Novel) - By Kasonndra Leigh Page 0,42
back to talking about what I believe is the real reason she came to stay with me for a while. The Dostovs have a secret, a huge one, a dangerous one too, I suspect.
There’s something I’ve noticed about Alek, and the way he always glances around when we’re together. And now his sister is crashing with me because she claims she doesn’t want to live by herself. “I know he seems like a womanizer, but he really is a good guy. I’m only saying all of this because, well, I know you have your issues too. He’s reaching out to you, Erin.”
“I know he’s a good guy,” I assure her.
“Give him a chance. Maybe the two of you can help to fight each other’s demons.” A long, awkward moment passes while I consider her statement. The tick tock from my grandmother’s clock sitting across the room fills the silence between us. “Are you ready for Black Butterfly’s big showing Saturday night?” she asks.
We go from one mood crasher to the next. “Hell no! I don’t have the logo prepared, and the show is only three nights away,” I answer and pull my legs up, hugging them to me.
I’ve skipped several sessions with Petre over the past couple of weeks. The anxiety rolling inside my chest reminds me of my neglect every day. I just don’t have the guts to tell him how badly I’ve failed at following his advice.
“What’s holding you back?” Adriana asks.
“Everything. What designer doesn’t have something cool to represent her new line? I mean, I do have one; but I just need to add color to the design,” I explain.
“Then, paint it. That’ll really make your design stand out,” Adriana suggests.
“I sketch, sew, and a lot of other things. But painting, I don’t do so well.”
A devious grin crosses her girlish face. “Alek paints. Mother taught us a long time ago. Me, I’m not so good. But Alek’s creations are fantastic. Let him color the logo for you. I’ll call him.” She pulls out her phone and positions her finger for making the call.
“Wait! No. Don’t do that,” I almost yell. “He’s already done enough for me.”
“What did we just talk about? You could tell him to swim from Milan to Venice, and he’d find a way to make it happen.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I say, scoffing. The truth is I’m not ready to face Alek after what happened between us at his mother’s house and especially at the park the other day. I feel exposed and weak and with a man like Alek Dostov those are the last things you want to be feeling.
“Fine. I’m heading to my room. I need to get ready. I’ll let you sit in here and meditate, Jaybird.” She blows mock kisses at me, and I toss another pillow at her.
I can sit here and try to fool myself all I want. The logo sits on the canvas in all of its black and white glory because I can’t keep my mind out of the clouds. Memories of Alek keep popping in and out of my head. An uncontrollable desire, something heated and indescribable rushes through me every time I think of Mr. Maestro with the gorgeous soulful eyes and mystery tattoo hidden underneath his clothing.
That’s not all you think of, hot mama. The man has everything you could ever want, and then some. He’s panty-drop gorgeous, and there you sit on the couch acting like a loser dud.
I change out of my work clothing and head back to the living room. Adriana still avoids me by hiding in her new bedroom. I attach my music player to the surround sound system and pick a tune by one of my favorite groups to listen to after work, Enigma. Flopping down on the couch, I lose myself in the relaxing combination of Gregorian chants paired with rhythmic beats.
Eventually, I doze off. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping when the doorbell rings. I open my eyes and stand up. I take a moment to turn down the music I put on repeat.
Opening the door, I’m prepared to curse the delivery man who keeps bringing strange packages to my apartment. But there’s no errand boy standing out there.
Instead, Alek lingers in the doorway. My mouth falls open. This moment reeks of a devious little ballerina and her slippery tricks. He smiles and holds up a bottle of wine and two glasses. At once, I think of those old black and white movies, the