“How do you two know each other?” I blurt out. I may be new to all of this but I can’t help but be curious and the more questions you ask, the more you’re bound to get the answers you’re looking for.
“We go way back,” Rocko says. “We’ve worked together before.”
I may not know the details but I know about the mafia and if you’ve worked together, then there’s a good chance you’ve killed together.
“But you don’t anymore?” I ask.
“Not after Rocko moved to Paris,” Alek explains. “I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t make it out to Paris that often.”
The lights flicker, telling everyone that the show is about to begin.
“We’ll talk later?” Rocko asks.
Alek’s lips are thin as he responds. “Yes.”
“Do you not like him?” I ask as we head to our seats. Rocko goes in the opposite direction.
“Rocko and I haven’t always agreed on things in the past. We’ll just leave it at that. Now, come along.”
Turns out, Alek has his own private box at the theater. It’s just the two of us inside it, overlooking the stage. One of the best views in the house.
The box is nice and secure, allowing my beating heart to calm down. The lights dim and the show begins. It’s a story of doomed love. But what opera isn’t?
I was always one to listen to musicals growing up. Dimitri would buy me the CDs to my favorite musicals before streaming music was a thing. Then I preferred to get the albums on vinyl just so I could listen to them in a different way in my room.
But hearing an opera right before me instead of through a soundtrack is a completely different experience. It’s one of beauty. It’s calming. It brings me right back to my room but in a much more healthy way.
I lean forward in my seat and can’t hold back the tears that fall down my face. I can sense Alek looking at me but I don’t look away from the stage. From the singers and the lighting and the production. Yet, Alek continues to look at me.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore and I sneak a look in his direction. His eyes are soft. His gaze is curious. I wonder what he’s thinking of me.
Feeling self-conscious, I turn back to the stage.
It’s then that Alek reaches over and wipes my tears away. That forces me to look at him.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I don’t like to see you cry.”
“I’m not… sad.”
“But you’re not happy either?”
I shake my head no. In our private box, no one else can hear us. At least, I hope so. I would hate to ruin this show for other people.
“Let me make you happy then,” he murmurs. “I’m going to push you outside your comfort zone, Katya. Don’t panic.”
He sets his hand on my thigh and I freeze. His touch is strong and sturdy and sexy.
“What are you doing?” I whisper again.
“I want to touch you. Will you let me?”
“Touch me how?” My heart is pounding all over again. This is too much. Too fast. And yet, I don’t push his hand away. I’m not sure why I do. Maybe I’m curious. Maybe I’m excited. Maybe I’m just ready to experience things in life as a woman for the first time.
“Let me show you.” He runs his thumb over my thigh, drawing circles. I try to watch the show but it’s hard. His hand is too distracting.
That’s when he moves his hand down my leg and slips his fingers around my ankle. I gasp. A part of me wants to push him away and yet I still don’t move. I want to see where this goes.
