The Prelude (A Musical Interlude Novel) - By Kasonndra Leigh Page 0,6
and I can’t help but to feel yet another rush. The sleeve on his right arm pulls up a bit, offering me a view of a tattoo that’s partially hidden. Holy Moly! An inked guy who looks this hot? The scent of his cologne mixes with everything else going on inside me. My two personalities are now at war.
The righteous in me says: Control, Erin. Get it together.
The reckless side of me says: Oh hell no. You’ve been one of the walking dead for too long. Time to live a little, my friend.
“Are you going to be alright?” Damn him and that sexy ass accent. I expect him to smirk or even smile, something to break up my stupid moment, because damn if he isn’t taking my breath away and obviously my good sense too. I suddenly can’t remember a thing about why he came here or what it is he’s supposed to be doing. “Ms. Angelo?”
What the hell is wrong with you? And close your freaking mouth. “I’m fine. I just...I sometimes have breathing issues.” No way, am I about to tell him the real deal behind what just happened.
“Panic attacks?” he asks. His accent makes it sound as though he said pa-neek attacks. I fight off one last dizzy spell. He starts toward me.
“I’m fine. And no, they’re not really panic attacks. Listen, please don’t tell your boss. Because then, he’ll tell mine. I kinda have this successful woman image I’m working on. I’ll pay you.” He gives me a hard look for the first time since we came into my office.
“I don’t need your money. I gave you my word, did I not?” he reminds me. Deed I knot is the way his words sound to me. I’m also happy that he prefers to speak English to me. Obviously this guy is from a place that takes honor seriously because he went from almost lovesick to rigid in zero point no seconds. He turns and heads toward the door of my office.
Turning around, he hesitates a moment before he says, “Make sure Martuccio keeps the appointment we scheduled this coming Friday. The Maestro will be curious to see those creations in action, I’m sure.”
On that last statement, he turns and walks out of Black Butterfly, leaving me with a sense of what the hell just happened in his trail.
Chapter Two
The drama of the week continues on Friday morning. Two of the models Luca hired from the local agency don’t show up. We are now left with one female and two males. The original plan was to have three females and two males since the director made it clear there’d be more female dancers than males. They’ll need three wardrobe changes to cover each rotating group.
Can my luck get any crappier?
“You will have to do it,” Luca says, staring at me. The bright blue shirt he wears matches his eye color.
I scoff a laugh. “So you want to be a comedian today? That’s so funny.” I bend over and slap my thighs for emphasis. But I straighten up at once when my gaze moves back to Luca’s serious face. My grin fades. “Right. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“You are gorgeous. You know this. Why shouldn’t it be you?” He moves around me and picks up the dress I’ll be wearing. It’s a red and black number with a skirt that rides high up on the dancer’s thighs leaving little to the imagination. I went for a gothic ballerina kind of look, complete with a black tutu, stockings, and red ballet shoes to emphasize the mystery. The bodice is made of brocade and the V-line dips too low for someone with as much boom in her boobs as I have. “I cannot squeeze this body into an outfit I designed for a toothpick,” I say through a forced smile. Luca twists his mouth to the side and passes his tongue across his lip ring.
“Oh no. What are you thinking?” I ask.
Moving close to me, he glances in my eyes and gives me a charming, dimpled grin. His coiffed, dark blonde hair and striking blue eyes sparkle, and I just know I’m in trouble now. “Dear sweet, lovely Erin. Your boss needs you to do this. I’m almost certain we can make a few adjustments, so the skirt covers your, er, proportional backside.”
I roll my eyes. “Just say the tutu won’t cover my fat ass and get the humiliation over with. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”