The Prelude (3 page)

Across the room
, the assistant removes my pump and hurries back over to where I’m sitting on the floor. He pops the cap, cradles my head, and places his hand over mine as I position it inside my mouth. He uses his other hand to move my bangs out of my eyes when all I’d like to do is keep them there so I can hide my beet red face.

“
Breathe. There you go,” he says in his strange deep accent. I continue to inhale the Flovent. The tingle dies down along with the pressure inside my chest. I remove the pump and let out a long sigh. “Feel better now?” I nod and hold his gaze. He’s very easy on the eyes so this isn’t hard to do.

Stupid
, stupid girl to have forgotten to take your medicine. Stress will bring on one of these attacks faster than strong perfume and things. Luca will lose this contract now because of me.

“
Panic attacks are absolutely no fun. I know this.” Holding my gaze, he strokes my cheek with the pad of his thumb. I choose not to tell him my panic attack is actually an asthmatic relapse.

“
Please don’t say anything to your boss. I don’t want him to think I can’t handle this account,” I plead.

“
No worries. I’ll carry your secret to the grave.” He gives me a small, but wickedly handsome smile.

Glancing into those strange
eyes of his, I feel a stir in my belly, and a tingle rushes through my numb body. I attempt to sit up and pull myself together.

“
Easy, now.” The assistant holds on to me at first. And he’s staring at my face in such a strange way that I begin to wonder if I have something hanging out of my nose. His unique, clear brown eyes have the smallest speckles of blue inside them. The irises are truly unlike any I’ve ever seen.

“Your eyes are i
ntriguing,” I say and reach out to brush his wispy bangs away from his face. Heat fires through my cheeks. “I‘m sorry. That was inappropriate.” I close my eyes and release a long sigh. When I open them, he’s still staring at my face, a slight smile on his lips.

“
No need to apologize, Ms. Angelo,” he mutters without breaking our gaze. Oh God, he has an accent to die for. But this guy’s voice sounds totally different from anything I’ve ever heard, and that god like tone is turning me on, stirring something I haven’t felt in ages.

I can go from zero to horny in no time. Don
’t get me wrong, I’m nothing like Luca, and I won’t date my bosses, but I do enjoy sex. Deep down inside, I somehow think this guy can take me on with no problem. It’s the emotion stuff I don’t handle so well. In fact, I choose not to deal with it at all, thank you.

It
’s time to get my rear end up off of this floor and cool it down. I need to control the heat flowing through my chest before it reaches my other sweet spot. I don’t want to earn the reputation of being the female version of my boss.

I pull out of his arms
, breaking our heated moment. We stand together, 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 r
ighteous in me says:
Control, Erin. Get it together.

The r
eckless 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.

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.”

Luca cradles his chest and gives me an incredulous look.
“I wasn’t going to say that. But since you’ve put it out there so elegantly…” He looks me up and down and waggles his eyebrows. I slap at his arm as he ducks playfully.

“
Alright already. I’ll do it. But my ass isn’t really that big. It’s my boobs I’m worried about,” I say before I realize who I’m saying it to. Carla walks into the room and giggles as she catches the end of my statement. I glance back at Luca who now has a come-hither look on his face.
Holy hell.
I probably just made his entire week. His expression changes once his gaze drifts over to where Carla stands. She’s wearing her light brown hair in a high ponytail, and she has on a black tee shirt and jeans. She almost passes as my twin minus the tight ballerina bun, of course. Oh yeah, and my jet black hair paired with my fair skin makes most Goth girls look tanned.

I think of the assistant I met the other day
, the Adonis who helped me out with my asthmatic attack. I can’t help but to get a little giddy inside when I think of him being at the showing today. I can’t believe I’m really doing this, my first truly big break.

* * *

Inside La Scala’s dressing room, I prepare to get dressed in the costumes Luca and I prepared for the coordinator of the show. He’s a big-time child prodigy named Alek Dostov. Carla assists with putting my makeup on.

“
Boy how I wish I had your eyelashes. There are enough hairs in them for you and me both. You don’t even need mascara,” she says as she carefully moves the brush over my lashes.

I move my head back a bit and narrow my eyes.
“Are you coming on to me? Because if you are, then I should probably tell you that I prefer blondes.”

“Signora
Angelo,” she gasps, her cheeks turning a fiery red. “I mean, Erin.”

“
What? Gentlemen prefer blondes. Why can’t classy women prefer them?” I tease. Her body is so tense that I’m thinking she’ll pass out if I don’t tell her I’m kidding. “Carla. Relax. Like, I’m joking, okay?” A disappointed look crosses her round face. I turn so I can stare directly at her instead of a reflection in the mirror. “What’s wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“
You didn’t. Not really. It’s just...I. My parents don’t know that I...”

What she
’s trying to say hits me like a rock. “Ah, I get it. You were hoping I wasn’t joking because you like women. And you’re afraid your parents will disown you if you tell them. Am I close?”

Sighing
, she moves around to face me. “Oh, Erin. I’m so afraid they’ll hate me. In my home, these types of things aren’t taken so lightly. And my girlfriend, Trina grows more impatient with me every day.”

I take her hands in mine.
“Tell them, as soon as you can. Your parents will still love you. They won’t risk losing you, even if they get angry for a while, they won’t really turn their backs on you. Family bonds run deep. Disowning a child is like stabbing your own heart. They should be thankful you’re still around.” I’m staring off into space as I think of my parents and especially my mom. Blinking a few times, I refocus on Carla.

“Graz
ie, Erin.” She takes my hand and shakes it hard. “I’ll tell them soon. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“
You do that.” I inhale and we both laugh. “Now back to making me beautiful so I can compete with the giraffes. And hold that chin up, Carla. Remember confidence is the key to all the world’s treasures.”

“
Got it.”

I scoff a laugh.
“I sound like a mom, don’t I?” She starts fidgeting. “Tell the truth now.”

“
Maybe a little bit. You’d make a good mom.”

“
Uh-huh, I’m sure I’d make a great mom at my ripe old age of twenty one,” I tease.

* * *

By the time Carla finishes my makeup, my nerves kick in. I have this awful habit of bouncing my left leg up and down when stress gets the best of me. Luca says my fidgety leg issue distracts him in our meetings. Rafe, one of his two older brothers and my former Fashion Design and Apparel instructor, says the same thing. If I’m not bouncing one of my legs, then I’m biting the right side of my lower lip. Today I’m doing all of those things at once.

Me along with the Martuccio brothers have all put tons of money into getting Black Butterfly Designs up and running. My dad left me a sizable trust fund. The money covered
my three years of design school, and there was enough left over to pool my resources with one of F.I.T. Florence’s top instructors to start our own design house. The Martuccio’s even let me choose the name, Black Butterfly, something I drew for my sister a long time ago.

My mind drifts back to thinking about the assistant. What will he think once he sees that it
’s me in the costume? Will he think we’re hopeless because we’ve screwed up, yet again? I certainly hope not. And I wonder what design he has on the tattoo I’m dying to see, the one that was partially hidden by his tee shirt.

I
’m caught up in thoughts of sexy assistants when music that’s being played in the distance drifts through my room. Violins, tubas, cellos, and synthesizers are tuning up. In order to do so, they keep playing little snippets of melodies that they’re about to play this evening.

Right away
, I think of Jada. “Fuck!” I curse my trembling fingers as I fight off the attack on my nerves. “Screw this up Erin Angelo, and I’m making you eat clam chowder for the next two months. Reaching behind me, I fumble with the laces on the bodice I designed. Yeah, the ties usually go in the front, but I wanted something different. So I put the damn things in the back instead.

“
Carla! I need you.”
Where did she get away to?
The vest isn’t going to work. I toss it on the chair beside me and grab a flimsy robe off the hanger beside me. It barely covers my ass, but I have no idea where Carla put my street clothes. “I cannot believe I let Luca talk me into doing this.”