When Stars Collide (Chicago Stars #9) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,112

Mabunda, striking in her white gown as Aida, stood with him. Or rather in front of him. Or rather, between him and the wall.

Both of them turned to look at Olivia, their glances smug and dismissive. They returned their attention to each other. Sarah snaked her arms around Thad’s neck. Thad snaked his arms around Sarah’s waist. And the two of them kissed.

Not a little peck on the cheek. This was a full-on, mouth-to-mouth, grind-it-out, passionate kiss. Sarah Mabunda and Thad Walker Bowman Owens.

They made a beautiful couple.

Too beautiful.

Of all the—

* * *

The orchestra concluded the overture. Radamès and Ramfis sang about the aggression of their enemy Ethiopia. Ramfis exited, leaving Radamès alone dreaming of leadership, victory, and his beloved Aida. His beloved “Celeste Aida.”

Olivia stood in the wings, heart pounding, waiting for her entrance. Unlike Amneris, she understood exactly who Radamès loved.

He hit the high B-flat that finished his aria, and she swept onstage, a royal princess accustomed to having whatever she wanted. She sang of her love, her passion, for this beautiful warrior. She sang from the bottom of her heart.

But all he wanted to talk about was war.

She stomped her foot. Amneris stomped her foot! She’d never stomped her foot at this particular moment before, but now she did. She was giving him her heart, and all he wanted to talk about was leading his team to victory.

Her toes curled in her sandals. Something in his expression, the way he carried himself, the way he wouldn’t quite look at her. Something was very wrong.

An ugly thought needled its way inside her. What if he loved another?

He dodged her questioning.

Her beloved Aida appeared. Yes, her slave, but also her closest friend. The sister of her heart. So why the hell was Radamès looking at Aida that way?

And why was Sarah starting to cry? Thad loved beautiful, talented women. He’d taken one look at Sarah, and every other woman he’d known had ceased to exist.

Aida might as well have plunged a knife into Amneris’s ribs.

* * *

Something was happening onstage. Thad could feel it. He saw it in the way the audience sat straighter in their seats. The way they leaned forward. One woman covered her mouth with her hand. Another caught the back of the seat in front of her. A man in the next row tilted his head to the ceiling as if he couldn’t bear to see what was about to unfold.

Olivia loomed above everyone. Fierce. Tortured. Vicious. She had all the power while her slave had none, which made her manipulations even more unforgivable. He wanted to tell her not to use the power she’d been born with. Not to betray her friend. Friends should stand together. That guy wasn’t worth either one of them. Thad understood exactly what extreme jealousy felt like. Everyone sitting around him understood. But she was too trapped to see how this would play out.

He could see it.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

* * *

Betrayal and vengeance. Olivia fumed. Fuck the consequences! No one else in Egypt cared about consequences, and Amneris didn’t, either.

She seethed. She raged. She begged and pleaded. Radamès was to marry her, love only her!

Finally! Egypt’s victory over Ethiopia and Radamès’s victory parade. He’d been given the hand of the princess of the land in marriage for his service. Amneris’s hand. Not his beloved’s.

But Radamès wasn’t having it. And Olivia wasn’t having him not have it.

Radamès made his fatal mistake. Treason.

Pigheaded, stubborn bastard only wants what he wants.

So be it.

The Judgment scene . . . The famous Judgment scene. La Belle Tornade’s colossal tour de force. She begs him to defend himself. He won’t. She cajoles. Threatens.

Give up Aida, my beloved, and marry me. In return, you’ll live! And trust me on this. Nobody in the kingdom will make you a better offer. Marry me, and we’ll rule all of Africa together, right along with ESPN and the NFL. All you have to do is renounce her, and I’ll save you!

But he would rather die.

The knife twisted. Amneris’s love turned to destruction. She would have her revenge, and in the fire of her hatred, she watches him being condemned to die.

Wait! Hold on! I take it all back. She cries out. Her cry shakes the stage, blisters the audience, echoes right down Michigan Avenue, and shoots across the lake into eternity.

Too late, cupcake. He’s doomed.

No! You can’t do this! He doesn’t deserve to die! She curses her father, curses the priests. She