Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Harrison’s eyes widen as I approach him. He removes the cigar from his mouth and sets it down on a jade ashtray on the side table next to his leather chair.
He smiles. “You sound fantastic tonight.”
My cheeks warm. “You’re too kind.”
“Do you have a moment to sit?” He gestures to the seat next to me.
I bite my lip. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a smoker.”
He grins. “Neither am I. But I was told I had to smoke to sit here. I’m not much of a dancer, but I wanted to hear your set.”
I take the chair next to him—Mr. Night won’t bother the sister of Rouge Montrose—and smile. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
“Are you kidding?” He beams. “You have a wonderful voice. And you’re so expressive. You’re not just singing the song, you’re…performing. Each of those pieces you sang had a different character, and you melted into each of them perfectly.”
My cheeks are on fire now. “My background is in musical theatre. I try to bring some of my acting training into my performances. But most people don’t really notice. I’m really more of a vibe than a performer to most of the people in Hearts.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “That makes perfect sense, your theatrical training. Were you ever on Broadway?”
A fist clenches around my heart at his words, but I paste a smile on. “I…got close.”
Not technically a lie. I’ll spare Harrison the sordid details.
A pregnant pause. Harrison isn’t sure what to say to that. Most people don’t when I tell them that I didn’t achieve the success I’d hoped for in New York.
Finally, “Aces is certainly lucky to have you now.”
I suppress an eye roll. Luck had nothing to do with it. I never auditioned. Rouge happened to call me when I was at my lowest, and I jumped at the opportunity.
But again, I’ll leave that detail out of the conversation.
“Thank you, Harrison.” I lean in. “So I have to ask, why were you so determined to get into the club this evening?”
He frowns. “I’ve…come here with a friend before.”
That’s not exactly an answer to my question. But I can tell by the cadence of his voice that he doesn’t want to disclose anything further.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Not prying at all.” He takes another puff on his cigar. “I love going to the theater now and then. Will you be adding any Broadway songs to your set?”
I bite my lip. “I’m limited to the jazz standards from the thirties and forties. There is some Broadway rep in there, but not anything that I sang when I was running the audition circuit.”
He cocks his head. “That’s a shame. I’d love to hear your bread-and-butter pieces sometime.”
“Maybe I can twist my sister’s arm.” I shrug nonchalantly.
What a crock. No one twists Rouge’s arm, except maybe Chet on a rare occasion.
Then again… She isn’t here tonight.
I check my watch. “I should probably start getting ready for the next set.”
He nods. “Of course. I’ll look forward to hearing it.”
“It’ll just be the same songs.”
He shrugs. “I enjoyed them the first time. I’m sure I’ll enjoy them again.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” I stand. “But please don’t feel an obligation.”
“On the contrary. I can’t wait to see and hear more of you.” He rises and touches my exposed shoulder.
A spark of static electricity jolts me at his touch. No doubt due to the green Turkish rugs that carpet the entire Clubs section.
But it’s not just the rugs. It wasn’t just electricity. A chill courses through me and blood rushes to my extremities. Then warmth replaces the chill, starting at my shoulders and arrowing right between my legs.
I want to be touched by this man.
I want to be loved by this man.
I want to be fucked by this man.
“Bianca?”
I blink a few times. “Sorry. Just got a little lost in thought.”
He smiles. “Me too.” He looks toward the stage in Hearts. “Looks like the musicians are getting ready. Guess you’d better get going.”
“Right, yes.” I swallow. “Thanks for keeping me company on my break.”
“Bianca,” he says on a husky breath, “the pleasure was all mine.”
More chills. More warmth. More electricity.
I walk back to the stage and close my eyes for a few seconds. I have to sweep all thought of Harrison to the back of my brain so I can refocus on the notes and rhythms of my songs.
He’ll be waiting for me when I return.
I give the nod to Ewan and we start. The second set of the evening is usually one of my weaker ones, but tonight I feel the music flowing through me in a way it never has before. The nostalgia of “At Last,” the mystique of “I Put a Spell on You…” It’s all tripled in intensity from the first set.
The audience erupts into applause as I finish my reprise of “The Man I Love.” Again, Harrison gets to his feet in the Clubs section, and I can see the gleam of his smile from the stage.