And frankly I was still too excited to be Christine to care that I’d been at practice since 5 am.
After they were done, I leaned back against the leather seats with a sigh and pulled out my phone, but since I was instantly confronted with messages from reporters wanting interviews on what it was like working with the man who left me at the altar, I irritably wrote,
Please contact my agent Lulabel Davies-Jones.
I didn’t realize where the driver was taking me until we pulled up next to the massive amphitheater where Forrest sometimes put on summer Shakespearean productions.
“Wait, why am I here? I thought you were taking me home.”
“The Dominator of the Opera said to bring you here,” the driver said, pushing me gently but firmly out the door. Then there were other hands, pulling me along in the darkness until I was suddenly at the very front, and I felt the weight of the entire audience, becauseevery single seatin the amphitheater was filled.
What the hell was going on?
I stepped forward into the spotlight, the rest of the auditorium darkening until there was only one golden beam of light and I was in it.
Wait, why was I in the exact middle of this stage, with thousands of people all looking at me expectantly?
“Birdie Valentine,” I heard the low, gravelly rumble that could only and ever belong the most powerful music producer in the business.
“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath and I turned to see Forrest striding toward me, tall, arrogant, and supremely confident.
“Birdie, you are the love of my life,” he boomed.
What thefuck?
“Please accept my humble offering to you, as well as my everlasting devotion.”
Then he spread his arms, those powerful shoulders blocking out the light, making him look like a demigod, and Forrest began to sing, “Come paride vezzoso,” a stunningly beautiful love song, and I could hear the audience take a worshipful breath, because everyone knew he rarely ever sang in public. He’d always been more focusing on composing and directing.
But he had a deep, resonant voice, booming around the amphitheater.
There were select little flashes of light, then a few more, and suddenly every level of the theater was filled with bright pops of light.
This was going to headline every gossip page across the country.
Because even his biggest enemy could not deny the power and beauty of Forrest’s voice.
I felt chills up and down my spine.
This is what I’d always thought brought the two of us together. We both loved to listen and sing with our whole bodies, andwhen the music took hold of us, it was like there was no one else in the world.
But this time he was looking at me the whole time, like I was his only thought, like there was nothing more important than me hearing the lyrics.
The song trailed off and suddenly Forrest got down on one knee.
Hell, he hadn’t even been on one knee topropose.
We’d been having dinner in our favorite Swiss ski chalet and he’d slid an engagement ring over the table to me right beside a hot chocolate toddy.
“I love you, Birdie.”
But right now he was down low on his goddamn knees, with his hands clasped in front of him, the shadowy planes of his face looking fierce. For once, I could taste desperation rolling off him, and it was something I’d never, ever felt from him before.
He didn’t beg. He always took.
But now he was begging.
Forrest was down on one knee, and as he raised his fingers, suddenly what looked like an armed guard appeared on the stage, several men all in black carrying a locked chest between them.
