The Crescendo (The Musical Interlude) (3 page)

Alek

“I cannot believe we’re going to be staying here in Venice for the next three weeks,” Erin says, jumping backward onto the bed, her black skirt flying up so now her thighs are exposed. Creamy tanned skin, the result of her Native American and British heritage tempts me with all the things I’d love to do to her before our show begins tomorrow evening.

I stalk toward her, bend down and pull her body toward the edge of the bed so
that I’m situated between her legs. Long, dark hair trails along the bed behind her, and together with her little black tank top dress, I can’t stop the hard on raging through me. Vanilla drifts into my nostrils, a scent she prefers and sometimes chooses to couple with an apple-scented perfume—a combination that drives me wild with lust and need for her; things that are hard to describe. Even though tension surrounds our marital plans, there’s not a damn thing strained about our sex life.

“This hotel makes the 300-year-old mansions back home in Louisiana look young and fresh,” Erin says, glancing around the room. She’s right. Venice reeks of history and ancient battles
—things that my sister Adriana adores—but that is something that has always made life a little more challenging for me back in school; history. Nevertheless, I can still appreciate the Floating City’s eclectic beauty.

“The designer in me is going wild right now,” she continues, a dreamy expression on her face.

“So is the man who loves her,” I say, my gaze locked on Eric’s face. In return, I get a beaming smile, and then she bites down on the corner of her lower lip, her look mischievously wicked.

“I know that look, my horny Maestro.”

“Is that right? What is this look?” I ask while grinding my cock against the inside of her right thigh. Her pink lips part and just that tiny response from her sends me spiraling over the edge. I don’t think I can wait until we get back from our meeting with the Fenice’s owners tonight. I need Erin as much as I need a good bowl of Pelmeni, a popular pastry back home in Mother Russia that’s filled with meat.

“That is you misbehaving as usual,” she says, grinning.

I grasp her arms and pull her up against my chest. “Is that right? What do you intend to about my, er, behavior problem?”

“Hmm. Let me see. I’ll have to think of a really good punishment.” Lowering her mouth to my neck, she starts nibbling and kissing the exposed area on my chest, working her way up to the skin underneath my chin, teasing my lips with warm
breath from in between hers. Then, finally, her lips land on that spot on the side of my neck, the skin over my jugular. The combined sensation of her hot breath and the way she sucks my skin shoots straight through my body.

“This is how we wind up
not
leaving the room,” I whisper against her ear, inhaling the scent of freshly washed hair.

“If we miss our appointment with Frederico,” she begins, easing her assault on my neck, moving back so she’s now perched on her knees at the edge of the bed and focusing on unfastening the belt
on my trousers, “then more punishment will be necessary.”

“Don’t tempt me, Signorina Angelo,” I warn, slinking a hand through her dark hair and pulling it the slightest bit so she’s glancing up at me, her dark eyes contrasting with the pink of her lips. Images of that perfect mouth wrapped around my cock while those deliciously dark eyes glance into mine, reflecting all the love and loyalty I know she holds in her heart just for me, drive me wild with desire. “You might find I rather enjoy your punishment.”

“Noted, Sir Bad Boy Maestro.” She smiles, dips her head and takes all of me into her mouth, ripping all thoughts of negativity from within my head. Instead, I choose to lose myself—that deepest part of my soul I’ve never allowed anyone to own—inside the warm embrace of the woman I love.

♡♥♡♥♥♥

Erin

The Fenice Opera House is within walking distance of our hotel, the Cassa Boccassini, and our temporary living quarters meets every bit of the Dostovsky standard of extravagance that we’ve become known for being associated with; clean lines, expensive details in both the interior and exterior decorations, a view of the Grand Canal that allows the sunshine to filter through the windows each morning. I couldn’t have asked for a better road trip than the one where I get to spend time with the man I love on a regular basis, our lives ultimately entwined, my heart similar to that of a caged animal, one who will kill anyone or do anything to protect its loved ones.

Glancing into Alek’s shaded eyes
—those deliciously warm pools of life that pull me under their spell each time I dare to glance into them—I get a half-lidded look, a hungry gaze heightened by the desire flowing between us. I can never get enough of this man. “I feel so lucky. This is the life. My life. Wait. Our life.”

“As you are mine,” he answers, wrapping several strands of my dark hair around his fists so now his gorgeous, full lips wait for my kiss. I cannot wait to be standing on the stage of one of the oldest opera houses around. This makes their first tour
stop under the name of Katerina’s new repertory, Diabolique. Our new booking agent, a big shot named Mitchell Swansea—a reclusive guy who manages both rock stars and classical musicians—has done well. I’m already impressed with his ability to help Alek expand into a venue that has previously frowned on working with the scandalous Dostovksys. He’s due to arrive in Venice next week. For some reason, Katerina requested for him to travel along with us since she has business back in the states over the weekend.

As we enter the Venetian opera house, Alek takes me in his arms and swings me around, pressing my body up against his. A little squeak escapes my lips because this show of excitement from him is something I
haven’t expected.

“Come. You’re going to love this,” he says, grinning and taking my hand.

Everything about this opera house is grand. Remodeled shortly after the first one burned down back in the 1800’s, the Fenice rivals any great house with a mouth-dropping offering of opulence in the form of rich, red velvet used to cover the walls and floors along with gilding on the booths and even in the frames of the chandeliers found throughout the building. The hallways leading to the dressing rooms in the back are no exception except it’s kinda hard to concentrate on artwork and decor when I have a sexy Maestro who keeps stopping to pull me into his arms and kiss me every few seconds. Accepting Katerina’s proposal has been one of the best things I could ever have done for our relationship, however I only hope it’s enough to jump that one last hurdle together.

“We’re not supposed to be back here, are we?” I ask.

“When have I ever done anything I was supposed to do?” he questions, his dark eyes boring into mine. The kissing between us gets hot and heavy as it always does. Alek’s face darkens, his eyes twinkling and reminding me of a kid.

“You know we’re going to get in trouble if someone sees us,” I remind
him, even though I know it’s not true. Alek’s more popular than ever. He could probably kick in a door or tear down a few booths and get away with his mischief.

“Trouble. I like that word.”

“Is that right? I bet Frederico doesn’t care too much for it.”

Moving me toward a vacant rehearsal room across the hall, he says, “Ah
, yes, very true. Then I should make sure no one sees us.” Dipping his head, he devours my mouth, sucking my lips in between his full ones.

The thought of getting caught, the scent of the man holding me in his arms, his strong embrace like a lifeline to me
—the girl haunted by demons of her past being consoled by the man trying to hold his in check—turns me on. A fire shoots through my belly, clenching inside me, making me wet and aroused to the point of it almost being painful. Alek lifts me up so I’m forced to wrap my legs around his waist to keep myself from falling.

“What on earth are we doing?” I ask, even though I’m fully aware of my horny Maestro’s intentions.

“Let’s just say that we’re going to break in your new dressing room,” he replies as he carries me out of the room, down the hall and into the place where I’ll be changing outfits over the next few weeks.

“Boy
, the Venetians don’t believe in skimping when it comes to decor.” Still holding on to Alek, I gasp as he carries me across the threshold, my eyes unable to grasp everything being offered as we step into a room the size of my old apartment.

“Only the best for the woman I love,” Alek says, kissing me just before he sets me down on the floor of my new dressing room for the next three weeks. His cell phone rings and a Tchaikovsky tune fills the room, startling me. As Alek pulls the cell phone out of his pocket, I glance at the screen and see the name Dmitri spread across the screen.

“Is that your brother calling?” I ask, curious about why Alek has decided to talk to someone he hasn’t spoken to in years. Sure, his brother has stopped by Katerina’s house a few months ago, but from what Hagar tells me, he literally needed to escort Alek’s half-brother out of the house.

“It’s nothing,” he says, silencing the phone and tucking his chin in toward his neck, a gesture I’ve learned he does when he’s not being completely honest with me.

“This isn’t the first time he’s called, is it?” I ask.

“Leave it alone, Erin. Let’s enjoy our time away,” he
responds with a little more bite than I think he realizes.

“All righty then. Sub
ject change time it is.” I can almost see him cringing inside even though he’s not showing his discomfort in a physical way. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m about to discuss the wedding we don’t seem to be getting ready to have, at least not anytime soon. “What if we change up the intermission a bit? I don’t know. The Rose isn’t really who we are anymore. And it’s … boy it hurts to say this… Well, it’s getting a bit tiresome singing the same thing every night.”

“It’s Frederico’s wish to have that as our trademark song,” he answers, looking a bit hurt. Alek loves to hear me sing the song just as much as the crowds we perform for do.

“No, it’s Frederico’s wish to make as much money off of us as possible. I’m pretty sure we can make him happy while singing something different at the same time.”

“My Jaybird is displeased,” Alek says as he pulls me into his arms, kissing my forehead and then pulling back so he can stare into my eyes. “What should we do about that?” He makes a face as though he’s in deep thought.

Even while he’s screwing up his perfect nose and heart-shaped mouth he’s still gorgeous. Although I know there’s more to the call from his brother than he’s telling me, I let it go for now.

“I have an idea,” I say, my voice enthusiastic.

“Do tell, my love.”

“How ‘bout I sing something different tomorrow night. I say we just do it. What’s Frederico gonna do? Fire us? I don’t think so. Katerina would have his ass for dinner.”

Sighing deeply, Alek turns his blue-brown eyes on me and says, “I don’t want to get on Frederico’s bad side.”

“What? This is news. Since when do his feelings count so much to you?” I ask. Alek scratches his right temple just before he turns his gaze back to me.

“He’s a powerful man outside the entertainment circle. He has a lot of connections,” Alek explains, which I still don’t get.

“So in a roundabout way you’re saying we might need Frederico’s help some day?” I ask, feeling confused and a bit annoyed because it’s starting to look like I’m going to have to stick with the same song I’ve
sung over the past four months since I began touring with Diabolique.

“Trust me on this, Erin. We don’t need negative publicity right now,” he answers.

“Okay. I’ll let it go with the publicity explanation for now.” I find myself reading more into what he’s just said. I hear the murmurs of fear for something that is brewing in the distance, something that has to do with Alek’s father, and I fully intend to stand by my man and be there to help him fight this thing.

Erin

“I was so freaking nervous onstage tonight,” I say, gasping as Nikolai, Alek and
I sit at a bar called
Arnie’s Due
in Venice, discussing the way we’ve nailed our first performance at the Venetian opera house.

The setup of the bar along with the dark
, wooden interior makes me think of an old show my mom used to love called Cheers. The owner, an American guy named Arnie of course, keeps things hopping by serving the strongest drinks around. Luca has told me about this little spot, and I’m thankful.

“You almost froze up out there,” Nikolai says to me, his eyes bright and filled with humor
; that is, until he passes a quick glance toward Alek and his smile fades a bit.

Something has been going on between Alek
and him lately. I think tonight makes the first time that we’ve actually hung out together without Nikolai and Alek getting into a disagreement because of all the phone calls he’s been receiving since he has started his top secret relationship with his new investors. Even though Alek doesn’t ever talk about his friend’s mysterious dealings, I can tell all the secrecy surrounding what Nikolai’s doing bothers him. Tonight the two friends have been laughing and joking, and suddenly, I find myself hoping the joy-luck goddess keeps touching us with whatever good mood potion she has decided to dish out.

“I did not freeze up. I had things under control,” I say, feeling defensive. He’s right
, though. There was a point during the middle of the song I sang that called for some super high notes. I’ve been singing in some choir or school group since I was six-years-old, but even an experienced voice might find it troublesome to reach some of the notes in the song Alek has chosen for me.

“Of course Erin had a handle on the situation,” Alek adds, making me feel better since I know he must’ve heard the way I was struggling as well. “My gorgeous fiancée brought the crowd to their feet, again. You saw them, Kolya.”

“I am only teasing. You did a fantastic job, if I must say so myself,” Nikolai lifts his glass of wine and glances back and forth between Alek and me. A strange look passes between the two friends. I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling that there’s more to Nikolai choosing to call me out than he’s saying.

“Just wait until next time,” I continue. “I’ll hit every single note with glass-breaking precision. You just might find you wind up eating those words, my friend.” Nikolai glances away a long moment, his jaw muscles working as he grasps his glass, his knuckles turning white. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask Nikolai. He stays quiet
for so long that I start thinking he’s going to get up and leave.

“There will not be a next time, Erin,” Nikolai announces. A sinking feeling begins to creep through me. “Tonight’s performance was my last with Katerina’s group.”

Alek scoffs and grins, even though nothing at all is funny right now. Leaning forward, he props his hands on his knees and his broad shoulders lift a few times as he breathes deeply. Oh, hell. He’s ticked.

“I thought you said Burkenstein was cool with your double profession.”

“I said he was patient, not supportive,” Nikolai corrects.

If it weren’t for the other club’s attendees
, I might think we’ve stepped into a silent nightmare, the kind where the person getting chased screams in silence while her feet move without really going anywhere. At least that’s the look Alek is giving his friend right now. Several expressions cross my fiancé’s face before he clears his throat and prepares to speak, the things Alek does when he’s about to lose his temper. I knew Nikolai was in the process of forming his own company, but I’ve had no idea he was thinking of leaving us.

As if the night couldn’t get any more interesting than the silent war that has started brewing between my fiancé and his best friend, a girl with light brown hair, big green eyes
, and with a white tee shirt and leggings number on that’s so tight she looks painted into the outfit, comes bouncing our way. This cannot be good. I know it before she even nudges her body into the space between Nikolai and Alek’s chairs.

She passes a quick glance my way and then says, “Aleksey and Nikolaus, my two favorite hot Russians.” She makes a giggling sound and
then shoves her shoulders up in that way that reminds me of the women from those old Grease movies. Her hair is secured in a high ponytail and she’s practically undressing Alek without even touching him.

The room gets hot and I’m almost certain my body could toss a flame if I were a witch.

“You never called me back,” the girl purrs, and I’m almost certain she’s purposefully making this scene.

Everyone knows Alek has settled down, and the tabloids have done an excellent job of making sure every aspect of his life gets covered on a regular basis. There’s no way
tinsel-toes here doesn’t know who I am. Something tells me to let her keep talking, or maybe that’s just the little freaking devil in the details preparing to rear its ugly head, the prize will be my peace of mind when he’s done.

Nikolai shoots to his feet, taking the girl by the elbow and says, “Gina, how not lovely to see you again. Let us head outside and finish this conversation.
”

As
I steal a glance at Alek, he’s turned two shades redder than his normal, naturally bronze skin tone.

“No, wait,” I begin, standing and moving to block the girl’s path, “I’m really anxious to hear what you have to say. By the way, I’m Erin, Aleksandr the dark-haired, hot Russian’s fiancé
e.” I shove my hand out and force a smile on my lips.

Gina holds out her hand, her smile fading as she glances at Alek and says, “Uh-oh. Okay. I didn’t know you got engaged since we... you know.” She finishes her sentence with a whisper.

“I don’t know,” I interrupt. “Why don’t you tell me?” Beside me, Nikolai lowers his head, shaking it while Alek’s gaze stays locked on my face. I glance back and forth among the three people who obviously know more than me.

“Gina’s someone I met at a party a few months ago,” Alek explains, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looks me in the eyes. “It was nothing special or even remotely close to being memorable.” He makes a point to look at Gina as he says this.

I scoff a laugh. “And this would be before or after we became an official couple? Don’t even try telling me anything else because I can’t be held responsible for my actions if you do.” Alek’s talking about one of the swinging parties he attends at Nikolai’s place; or rather, the ones he used to attend.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Gina says, sounding totally fake.

“Of course you did,” Nikolai says, taking the words out of my head since there happens to be a huge knot in my throat so that, now, I can’t seem to form anymore words. “Come. You’ve done enough dramatics here tonight.” Gina obeys. There’s something about Nikolai when he gets ticked off with someone that lets you know he means business, and both he and Alek will walk through the fire to protect each other.

After they’re gone, I’m left alone with Alek. The other dancers and players in Diabolique’s
symphony, who’ve stuck around to finish celebrating, continue reveling in their happiness, their laughter mocking me. It’s the complete opposite of the scene playing out between Alek and me.

“Explain,” I demand. He attempts to touch my crossed arms, but they’re deadlocked, and since I work out, I don’t think he could move them right now even if he forced all his strength on me. I move back and wait for his response.

Sighing deeply, he glances around, places his hands on his hips and says, “It happened at a party.”

“I think we’ve already covered that part,” I remind.

“It was during the time when we were apart,” he explains. He’s talking about the night I found out his father played a part in my sister’s death.

“You mean the week we were apart? That would be
seven days.”

He doesn’t nod or make any confirming motion, which I don’t need. “Oh
, you’ve gotta be kidding me. It was a freaking week, Alek! Seven days, and you strayed in that bit of time?”

“Erin, listen to me.”

“I will not!”

“I was drunk. Nothing significant happened. Only a bit of fooling around, yes,” he says, his eyes pleading. I close mine before I give in
; before I get the chance to digest everything he’s just confessed.

“Oh
, my God. Not the ‘I was drunk’ speech.” I turn and start walking toward the exit door. A few heads have turned our way. “I can’t believe this. Did you screw her?”

“I cannot believe you asked that question,” his Russian accent deepens when he’s angry and that vein in his forehead bulges, giving him a dangerous edge to his pretty boy looks.

“Forgive me if I need a little reassurance right now.”

“I did not sleep with her,
” he says in measured words, but he doesn't look sure of himself.

“I need to get out of here,” I
state, walking out the door and not stopping until I reach our water taxi.

On the way back to the room, I keep at least six feet of space between Alek and
myself. Every so often, he tries to explain. Back inside the room, however, he gets more aggressive with his explanation. “It was a stupid party. I was hurting. You were gone.”

“Oh
, this is freaking fantastic, Alek. Not only does my guy cheat on me, but he plays the ‘it’s your fault because I was the wounded puppy’ card. Smooth, Dostovsky.”

“I did not cheat on you! I was fucked up and she took advantage of that. When I realized who it was giving me the wax job I stopped it at once,” he explains, his gorgeous eyes sincere and filled with worry
; the veins on his neck looking as though they’ll burst through the skin at any moment.

I can’t let it go. The idea of him with someone else this way slams into me, winding me. Yeah, sure, I might not have a right to be angry, but he could’ve told me about his indiscretions
before now.

“Is that why you’ve changed your mind about the wedding
; you don’t want to stop swinging?”

“That’s not fair,” he says, placing his hands on his
–well-tapered hips. “You’re being unreasonable, Erin.”

“And you’re in denial. You can’t just choose to slip back into your old lifestyle whenever you get angry.”

“Has everyone gone fucking insane? First Nikolai abandons me mid-season, and now, the woman I love wants to throw old shit back in my face.” He throws his hands up and then rakes both of them through his hair.

Alek is one of those men who looks even more beautiful when displaying raw emotion. Still, I’m finding his news hard to digest. All kinds of crazy things are flying through my head
; little voices that want to make me think Alek has done more than get a wax job from someone who meant nothing to him—or so he says, which I do believe. Or at least I think I do. I’m going insane. It’s time to go find Selene. Best friend therapy always works wonders.

When
I pick up my handbag and turn to leave, Alek grabs me by the arm. “Oh, no you don’t. This isn’t something to run away from, Erin.”

“I just—I need some air,” I say, my gaze locked on the floor. “I’m going to hang out with Selene for a while.
It’s no big deal.”

“Don’t walk away from me. From us.” His voice sounds more like a warning than a request.

“I’m sorry. I need some time,” I repeat, easing my hand out of Alek’s, that small action killing me inside. Turning, I find the strength to walk out the door.