Temptation's Song (Kimani Romance) Page 10

  “And I would appreciate it if you would start to earn the exorbitant fee we’re paying you for your participation!” Dominic returned. “Civility is earned. Feel free to give as good as you get, but if you don’t like the way I direct then you can always leave.”

  Jaime muttered an expletive in Spanish and stormed off the stage.

  On the sidelines, Teresa whispered to Elle, “This is classic behavior for La Scala. We wouldn’t feel at home without a bit of melodrama.”

  Elle smiled. Yes, she’d heard some unbelievable stories about backstage antics at La Scala. But she had hoped that things would run smoothly. It seemed that her hopes had already been dashed. As rumored, Dominic was behaving abominably when directing his operas.

  Later, after Dominic had called it a day, everyone got out of there as fast as they could, except Elle, who stayed behind to have a word with him. He was packing up his briefcase, a frown creasing his brow, when she walked up to him. “Signor Corelli,” she quickly said, “thank you for the piano. Sophia told me you had it sent over. Thanks also for having the cost of my rent written into the contract. That was very thoughtful. It didn’t even occur to me to ask.”

  Dominic continued to look down and ready his briefcase for leaving. “You’re welcome.”

  Elle stood there, looking at his bent head and wishing she were free to touch him. It hurt her that he wouldn’t even look up. Were they supposed to behave as if that kiss had never happened? Couldn’t they at least be courteous?

  She felt tears prick the backs of her eyes, but subdued them with angry, venomous thoughts about him. Turning away, she said, “A domani, Signor Corelli.”

  “Don’t be late,” said Dominic in a low voice.

  He looked up only after he heard the door shut behind her. Squeezing his eyes shut as though he were in pain, he threw his head back and whispered, “God, why do you make me suffer like this?”

  Not that he expected an answer. He was his own worst enemy. He had been the one to kiss her, after all, thereby rendering himself defenseless against the burning memory of that kiss. Yes, it was torture of the sweetest kind.

  As for his boorish behavior today, it was a necessary evil. He preferred Elle’s hatred to dooming her chance at stardom before it even got off the ground.

  She would forgive him later. He was counting on it. Besides, he was a firm believer in trial by fire. A lump of coal became a diamond only after years of having pressure put on it. A little pressure would be good for Elle Jones. It would either break her or make her. He believed it would make her.

  As for him, a daily exercise routine of running and weight lifting wore him out sufficiently to make sleeping at night possible. He still burned for her, but he was managing. Or so he told himself.

  Chapter 10

  For the next eight weeks, Elle arrived at the theater on time and subjected herself to more abuse from Dominic. She had to be fair, though—he heaped abuse on everyone, not just her. The least little mistake, like forgetting a word of the lyrics, would set him off. Once one of the chorus members was off-key, and his subsequent angry tirade made the woman burst into tears and stumble from the stage, never to return.

  Elle was beginning to wonder if he was insane—a genius, yes, but totally bonkers. She’d worked with directors before who were demanding, but Dominic Corelli took demanding to new heights.

  Rehearsals were grueling enough without having the director behaving cruelly. First there was the music rehearsal, when the singers practiced their parts with only a piano accompaniment. Then the staging rehearsal, where the singers practiced their stage movements so that they didn’t look awkward performing on a stage full of scenery. Next was the technical rehearsal, when the opera was rehearsed onstage, with the performers in costume and the sets in place. Following that was a sitting rehearsal, as the singers and orchestra performed together for the first time. Then it progressed to the orchestra staging rehearsal, where all the elements came together—the soloists and chorus members sit onstage, not in costume, while the orchestra occupies the orchestra pit. The entire opera is rehearsed from beginning to end, and the vocalists sing full out so that the director can judge how they and the orchestra sound together.

  Finally, there is the dress rehearsal, the last rehearsal prior to the first performance in front of an audience.

  This was the most stressful rehearsal for Elle, which was why she blew a gasket, slapped Dominic Corelli and called him the devil in front of the entire company.

  When she thought about it later, it all seemed like a dream sequence to her. She and Jaime had been onstage in full costume singing their duet. Elle was melting inside the heavy brocade gown. The opera’s setting went back and forth between present-day Milan and a fantasy world that Satan creates just for the two of them that looks like fifteenth-century Italy. In the duet, Elle’s character, Adama, was dressed in an emerald-and-gold gown and her hair was up in an elaborate style, shot through with gold ribbons. Elle thought she looked like the Bride of Frankenstein with the wig on. She and Jaime were coming to the big ending in the duet when she tilted her head back and the wig fell off.

  The players and the orchestra members alike laughed good-naturedly as Elle bent and picked up the wig. She was putting it back on when Dominic yelled, “Okay, take it from the top. And this time, Signorina Jones, try to keep the wig on.”

  So she and Jaime took it from the top and the wig fell off a second time at the exact same moment.

  Dominic yelled, “Must we glue the wig on?”

  Elle glared at him. “No, but you can most certainly glue your lips shut!” she yelled back. “The wig obviously needs refitting. I suggest you give me time to go backstage and have it done. Then we can continue.”

  Incensed, Dominic leaped onto the stage and confronted Elle. “Are you trying to tell me how to direct this opera?”

  It was the first time in weeks that Elle had been this close to him and her poor body betrayed her by reacting to his nearness. In spite of the hell he’d put her through for the past two months, she was still overwhelmingly attracted to him.

  Judging from the bitter expression in his dark eyes, though, he loathed her. He was a man obsessed. No one and nothing meant anything to him except this damned opera, and she was fed up with his behavior.

  “Well, are you?” Dominic yelled after she simply stood there staring at him.

  Elle slapped him.

  There was a collective intake of breath on the part of the shocked onlookers. “Somebody needs to!” she cried, as tears, held back for too long, spilled onto her cheeks. “You’re the devil incarnate, Dominic Corelli, and I hate you!” With that, she left the stage to thunderous applause.

  Dominic, laughing and holding his jaw, looked out at the cast and orchestra members. “That, my dear colleagues, is how a diva behaves. Take five while her highness gets her wig on straight.”

  Later, after a successful run-through of the entire opera, Elle stayed behind to talk to Dominic.

  To her amazement, he wasn’t aloof or rude when she approached him as he was packing up his briefcase. He looked straight at her and smiled. “Have you come to apologize?”

  Elle, who had changed into jeans, a short-sleeved purple blouse and strappy taupe sandals, said, “No. I just wanted you to know that I’m ready for tomorrow night. In the beginning I lacked confidence but, after everything that I’ve been through under your direction, I think I can handle anything.” Her eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t know whether you’re a sadist, or you simply believe that being really hard on me will bring something wonderful out of me. It doesn’t matter. I will bring it tomorrow night. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  His smile never wavered. “I’m not worried about you,” he assured her. He closed his briefcase and walked up to her. “I’m not sorry, either, Elle. It’s part of my creative process and I don’t feel I should have to apologize for it. Greatness is not achieved by sitting back and waiting for it. You have to struggle for it. Fight for i
t, and win it. You’ve fought for it and won it. Tomorrow night, I want you to claim it.”

  With that he turned and began walking toward the exit. “Get plenty of rest and remember to save your voice.”

  Elle watched him go. Regret weighed heavily on her heart.

  Outside in the hallway, Dominic took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, then pushed away from it because he didn’t want her to see him in this weakened state. He continued walking, even though all he wanted to do was go back in there and tell her he was sorry for behaving like a maniac. Explain that it was the only way he knew to ensure they would stay away from each other. She had to detest him. She had to be kept off balance. Otherwise they would have engaged in an affair that would have been detrimental to both of them. He saw the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching. She still wanted him, which was good, because he most definitely still wanted her. She was constantly on his mind during waking hours and he had dreamed about her so many times he had lost count.

  The excitement was palpable backstage on opening night. It was like a living, breathing entity that was bursting with energy. Elle’s dressing room overflowed with flowers from well-wishers—family, friends and celebrities she’d never met, including Kanye West and Beyonce. The buzz was that both were in the audience.

  Earlier that day, Elle had been swamped with phone calls and text messages from Belana, Patrice and Isobel, all of whom had a private box along with Belana’s father, John Whitaker, and her brother, Erik. John had been kind enough to put up all of Elle’s guests in a nearby luxury hotel. Elle hadn’t spoken since last night in an attempt to preserve her voice for tonight, so she’d been using text messages to communicate. Luckily, they all understood and were going to be at the celebratory party after the show.

  The wardrobe assistants had just left her dressing room and Elle was alone. She smiled at her reflection as she stood in front of the mirror. A beautiful girl who seemed to glow from the inside out smiled back at her. She felt surprisingly calm. A few butterflies, but nothing serious. She figured after laying into Dominic yesterday all negative thoughts had been banished. She was Adama. Elle Jones was nowhere to be seen.

  “Five minutes, Elle!” yelled one of the many performing-arts-school student volunteers from outside her door.

  Elle walked to the door, opened it and said in a whisper, “Thank you, I’m ready to go.”

  The messenger, a slender girl just out of her teens, smiled, wished Elle good luck in Italian and gave her a thumbs-up as she departed.

  “Grazie,” Elle said as she hurried from the dressing room and took the now-familiar route to the backstage area.

  A few minutes later, the lights in the opera house lowered, the curtains opened and the orchestra began playing. She was in her element. She was where she was born to be and it showed in her performance.

  After the first act, she felt she was reaching her stride. By the second, she could feel the energy of the audience in every inch of her body. This was what she liked most about live performances, the exchange of energy between the performer and the audience. She knew they were enjoying themselves, and she had never felt better in her life.

  After the final act, they received a standing ovation. There were shouts of “Brava!,” “Bellisima!” and roses were thrown at the cast’s feet. Then someone yelled from the loggione, the uppermost balcony for those who couldn’t afford more expensive seats. The loggionisti were known for raining insults on singers they deemed unworthy. Elle remembered that they had even booed Pavarotti while he was singing Don Carlo in 1982. She looked up. It was Violetta, the prostitute she had met the night she’d been falsely arrested, leaning over the balcony. “You rocked the house, my sister,” she yelled in Italian.

  “Molte grazie,” Elle shouted back, and blew her a kiss.

  After the cast had been lauded by enthusiastic applause until their ears felt assaulted, Dominic walked onto the stage and the audience went crazy all over again. The cast, out of deference to him, turned and applauded him, as well.

  Elle smiled. It was like Ana’s painting all over again. She felt her heart swell with pride. Even if a part of her detested him, he deserved this moment. He looked handsome in his tux; breathtaking, actually. Elle sighed. Things could have been so different between them if not for his dumb theory about love.

  Jaime was beside her, holding her hand. “You’ve got to admit,” he whispered, “even though his method seems quite mad, it works. You were luminous tonight.”

  “So were you,” Elle said sincerely.

  “Thank you,” Jaime answered with rare modesty. “But you don’t get my meaning. You will later on, when the notices start coming out.”

  Elle always dreaded reviews. It seemed that the critics never understood her, or if they did they would compliment her one moment only to take it back with a dig the next. Her stomach lurched.

  The curtains finally closed. They all scurried to their dressing rooms to get out of their costumes and head to the opening-night party at Hotel Principe di Savoia Milano.

  In her dressing room, Elle took a quick shower and dressed in a lovely, sleeveless, pale-blue sheath that showed off her fit body and long legs. It was June and the nights got cool, so she had a wrap to put around her shoulders. She had found the dress at Corelli’s warehouse when Sophia had let her loose in the sample room. On her feet were sexy sandals with three-inch heels and her purse had the same silver tones. The only jewelry she wore were silver dangle earrings in a simple but classic teardrop design.

  Since this was her first starring role, Elle had no inkling of what was in store for her when she set foot outside her dressing room. The moment she opened the door, flashbulbs started going off. There were photographers waiting for her, and reporters. Behind them were a number of celebrities whom she recognized on sight. She was so dumbfounded that her first impulse was to turn and escape back into her dressing room.

  But, suddenly, Dominic was by her side, pulling her close and snug next to him.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered. “You’re a star now. Give them a quote or two. Smile for the cameras and then I’ll get you out of here, I promise.”

  It was the caring tone of his voice that calmed her. It certainly was not his hands on her body.

  For the next few minutes, Elle posed with Dominic for pictures. Then, because opening night at La Scala was big news in Milan, TV reporters pressed forward and began bombarding them with questions. A tall, dark, good-looking male reporter asked Dominic how Elle had happened to audition for him. “It was a miracle,” he said in Italian. “She was vacationing in Italy and walked in off the street.” The look he gave Elle as he pulled her closer to his side was filled with admiration. Elle glowed.

  “Signorina Jones, how do you feel tonight?” asked the reporter.

  “Like a fairy-tale princess whose every wish has been granted,” Elle replied happily.

  “Well, you certainly look like a princess,” said the handsome reporter. “And you sang like an angel from heaven.”

  After a few more short interviews, Dominic politely let the press know that he and Elle had a prior engagement and thanked them for their generosity. Shortly afterward, Elle saw her mother and hurried into her open arms. “If only your grandparents had lived to see this,” her mother breathed excitedly. “Baby, you shone like a star tonight!”

  Belana and Patrice took turns hugging her and John and Erik Whitaker kissed her on the cheek. Elle couldn’t help noticing that John only had eyes for her mother and wondered what, if anything, the handsome bachelor was going to do about the crush he had on her.

  Then, Natalie and Carlo Corelli showed up and the kissing and hugging started all over again. Sophia was there with Matteo, whom Elle had met on several occasions in the past few weeks as she and Sophia had become good friends. Ana had flown in from NYC. Her companion was a fellow model whom she had recently begun dating.

  Through all of this Dominic remained at her side, which surpri
sed Elle but wasn’t unwelcome. Soon, the party moved to a five-star ristorante at Hotel Principe di Savoia Milano in the city’s midtown. Since the 1920s the hotel had been home away from home for the crème de la crème of society. The guests at the reception numbered in the hundreds, among them the mayor, other city officials and international VIPs, including royalty. Elle had heard that opening night at La Scala was an event, but she had never expected to shake hands with a princess or receive a kiss on the hand from the president of a country. It all felt surreal to her. If not for Dominic she didn’t know how she would have handled it.

  She was glad when Dominic escorted her to their private table, where her mother, his family and all their friends were already seated and getting to know each other. When she and Dominic sat down next to each other at the table they were greeted with more applause, the most gratifying of the evening since it was coming from those whom they loved.

  “Enough of that,” Dominic said modestly. He turned to Elle. “Unless you’re not tired of it yet,” he joked.

  Elle laughed. “I’m with you. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

  “A diva never eats before a performance,” Dominic reminded everyone at the table. His mother nodded with a knowing smile; she was well aware of how a diva behaved, since she was one.

  Elle saw that Gianni and Francesca were at the table, as well. She hadn’t seen the couple backstage. “Hello, Gianni, Francesca, I didn’t see you earlier.”

  “The babysitter was a little late arriving,” Francesca explained.

  “Also, Francesca couldn’t decide what to wear,” Gianni joked.

  “You look beautiful,” Elle said, smiling. “You both look wonderful. How is little Gianni?”

  “Oh, he’s well, for now,” Francesca said. “Yesterday, he tried to climb the bookshelves in the library.”

  Gianni turned to his wife. “I told you, I thought they were secure!”

  Francesca smiled at her contrite husband. Then she turned her attention to Elle. “He knocked over one bookshelf and the rest fell over in a domino effect.”