EntangledTrio (7 page)

The dress rehearsal went off fairly well, with only a few minor technical glitches. David’s costume still needed altering—Bernini had about fifteen pounds on him, which meant David spent the evening traipsing around the stage in a Spanish army corporal’s uniform that fit him like an old potato sack—but at least he hadn’t walked into the scenery or missed any of the prompter’s cues. When the final curtain came down, he heaved a relieved sigh and trudged back to his dressing room to collapse.

He’d gotten his second wind by the time his dresser came by to help him out of his costume, then he padded in to take a shower. No sooner had he emerged from the bathroom, still knotting his robe around him, when a soft rap came at the door and Petrovsky poked his head in.

“You did remarkably well tonight, under the circumstances,” the maestro said. “Thank you.”

A bit qualified for a rave, but he’d still take it. “Thank
you
, maestro. I just hope I get my legs under me by tomorrow night. Everyone else has been rehearsing this staging for weeks, but I feel like I’m dodging traffic out there.”

“Coming in on a production at the last minute is always stressful. But Colette said you were picking it up quicker than anyone had a right to expect.”

“Well, it’s not my first time,” he admitted, sinking down on the edge of a small couch directly across from the baby grand piano that swallowed up most of the room. “I made my Met debut on a day’s notice after Alagna canceled a performance of
Manon
. Just a few years out of Juilliard and there I was, onstage singing a love duet with Renée Fleming.”

“I imagine that made you a bit nervous.”

“Absolutely fucking terrified.”

They both burst out laughing. Finally Petrovsky stepped inside, shutting the door behind him to drown out the post-show hustle and bustle in the hallway. “I remember my first year conducting. I had to run back to my dressing room every intermission to change shirts. They were always soaked through with perspiration.”

“I know the feeling. I just rinsed off about five pounds of flop-sweat.”
Oh God
. He could’ve bitten his tongue the second he said it.
Talk about an indelicate turn of phrase.

But Petrovsky just shrugged and sat down on the piano bench. “Audiences have no conception of what goes into a great performance. They want the excitement, the high notes, the triumphant bows at the end. But they don’t know about the years of hard work, the sacrifices. The personal cost.” He shook his head, eyes crinkling. They were nice eyes, deep sea-green with a ring of dark blue around the iris. Stormy and intense when he was at the podium, they’d now gone amazingly soft, even dreamy. “Which is why it’s always a pleasure to meet a true musician like yourself. There aren’t many singers who’d choose integrity of the score over applause.”

Genuinely touched, David had to remind himself to close his mouth. “It…um, throws off my concentration when the audience interrupts a performance to clap or shout bravo. There’ll always be another high note. That’s what we tenors get paid for, right?”

“Indeed.”

The door opened again, and this time Colette peeked inside. She’d changed out of her long, wavy brunette wig and Act Four gown into her regular clothes. “There you are, Aleks. Sophia said she saw you heading this way.” Her wide-eyed gaze bounced from Petrovsky to David and back again. “We should let David get dressed and go back to his hotel. I’m sure he must be tired.”

“Or he can join us at our apartment for a late supper. I, for one, am famished.” He flashed them both a mouthful of long white teeth. It would’ve looked positively shark-like if not for his obvious good humor. “You two must be hungry as well.”

David’s glance locked on Colette’s, and they both laughed nervously. Petrovsky couldn’t mean… No, of course he couldn’t. It was just a friendly invitation to dinner. Colette had made it clear what had happened between them was in the past. And that was fine, really. He’d accepted it. Seeing her with Petrovsky these past two days had proven what she’d told him was true—they were happily married. And though David’s heart still died a little at the realization, he wasn’t about to do anything to screw that up.

But he wasn’t about to turn down the invitation either—especially since he was indeed starving. “Give me five minutes to get dressed, maestro, and I’ll be happy to join you.”

“Aleks, please.” Still smiling, Petrovsky stood, hand extended. “We’re colleagues, after all.”

Aleks slowly circled the dining table, refilling everyone’s glasses with a lovely 2008 Viognier while David regaled them with stories from his childhood that had Colette nearly doubled over with laughter. Aleks couldn’t help smiling himself as he sat down to sip his wine and listen.

“My old dog Buddy was sweet, but dumb as a bag of rocks. He thought everything was made of food and kept jumping on stuff, trying to eat it. My dad had pretty much had it with him. One more chance, he said, then it was off to the pound. So when I got home one Christmas Eve and found the tree snapped in half, it didn’t take three guesses to figure out what happened. Plus, Buddy was still gnawing on the tinsel.”

By now Colette had her hand over her mouth, her eyes round as dinner plates. ”So what did you—”

“What any desperate sixteen-year-old would do, I guess—grabbed Dad’s axe and went out in the woods behind our house to chop down another tree. Then I dragged it inside and finished getting it decorated about five minutes before my folks got home from work.”

“Oh my God! And they never suspected it wasn’t the same one?”

“Dad kept giving it the stinkeye all through dinner, but by the time we’d finished eating he was full of beer and didn’t care anymore.” He sat back with a grin and a shrug. “And through it all, I never tipped my hand. It was my first great performance. That’s when I knew I had a real future in show business. Or forestry.”

Colette kept giggling between bites of the delectable
cassoulet
Simone had prepared for them. It’d been ages since Aleks had seen her so unabashedly giddy. She never laughed this easily with him. The thought sent a sharp, swift pain lancing through his heart. He often wondered if his temperament was too intense for her. She had such an open, loving disposition. She deserved to laugh like this every day.

As for the young tenor… Well, Aleks definitely saw the attraction. Good-looking and funny, a combination he himself could never match. Factor in that beautiful voice and amazing body—which he’d gotten a glimpse of when David stripped off his shirt during Act Two of tonight’s rehearsal—and Aleks couldn’t fathom why Colette hadn’t run off with him weeks ago. Had the tables been turned, he certainly would’ve been tempted. Even now, his burgeoning erection pressed against his fly, making him shift restlessly in his seat.

“Quite a leap from a small town in Wisconsin to the international opera stage,” he commented, taking another sip of wine while willing himself to calm down. It wouldn’t do for David to become aware of the effect he was having on him. Aleks needed to maintain the upper hand on and offstage, lest the production suffer.

“Oh, I sang in the church choir and did school musicals my entire childhood. Then when it came time to apply for college, music seemed like a logical choice for my major. It was just a fluke that I won the scholarship to Juilliard.”

“Not a fluke at all,” Colette protested. “You’re far too modest.”

Aleks nodded. “Your voice truly is something special. And you have considerably more acting talent than most of your peers.”

“Well, thank you. But I’m still nervous about tomorrow night. Sophia’s supposed to run through the production with me again in the afternoon. Hopefully by then I’ll have the blocking down.”

That prompted Colette to sigh. “To be honest, I’m disappointed in what Sophia’s come up with for the characters’ motivations. I don’t want to play Carmen as the stereotypical wicked, promiscuous gypsy who entices poor José to his doom. She’s much more complex than that. But Sophia seems content to merely scratch the surface.”

“I’ve always thought of Carmen as opera’s first liberated woman,” David mused. “It’s all right there in first line of the
Habañera
—‘Love is a rebellious bird that no one can tame.’ She’s a free spirit who loves when and wherever she wishes, and falls out of love just as easily. No wonder the opera scandalized everyone when it premiered in 1875.”

Intrigued, Aleks leaned forward. “And when José turns possessive and tries to tie her down, that’s when she loses interest—and he loses his mind. He can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want to be his forever.”

“He stalks her, but she won’t back down. Which makes her defiance in the face of death at the end even more heroic,” David said. “Every modern woman who’s had to fend off a psychotic ex-lover can relate.”

“My God, that’s it,” Colette murmured, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I’ve been looking for a new way to play the role, and it’s been right in front of me the entire time. A truly feminist interpretation. But do we dare? Sophia will murder us if we deviate from her directions.”

The spark in her eyes was positively infectious. Aleks couldn’t help grinning as he aimed a conspiratorial glance across the table at David. “To the devil with Sophia. She’ll be gone after opening night, then you two can suit yourselves. Popov despises her, so I doubt he’ll give you any trouble. Especially if you fill every seat in the house.”

“And standing room too, I’ll bet,” David added, rubbing his hands together. “God, I can’t wait. This is going to be
fun
.”

Their dinner party broke up a short while later. Colette said good night and went to get ready for bed, while Aleks played the gracious host by walking David to the door. “I’m glad you joined us tonight,” he said with complete sincerity. “Colette’s needed some cheering up. These past few weeks have been difficult for her.”

“I can imagine. Carmen’s not exactly an easy role, but it must’ve been doubly difficult trying to learn it under such adverse conditions.”

“Well, that’s all over, now that you’re here.” On impulse, he threw his arm around David’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug. After a moment of surprised awkwardness, David hugged him back.

“Thanks, Aleks,” he murmured. “See you at the theater tomorrow night.”

For a second Aleks thought he saw a flash of something—gratitude, coupled with admiration and perhaps a touch of genuine arousal—in David’s pale blue eyes, right before he stepped through the doorway and was gone.

The bathroom door stood half-open when Aleks reached the bedroom. He found Colette standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair. Despite the warmth radiating from the heated floor, her nipples still showed darkly through her nightgown, hard little points tenting the smooth blue silk. Was it due to his presence, or something else?

She melted into his arms as he came up behind her to bury his face in her throat, giving her the edge of his teeth. Sadly, he couldn’t bite her hard enough to leave a mark—the off-shoulder peasant blouse she wore for Act One left her bare from neck to décolletage. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t plant a little souvenir elsewhere.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” he murmured.

“You know I did. Thank you for inviting David. It was a pleasant and enlightening conversation.”

She’d taken on that cool, composed ladylike demeanor she knew he longed to shatter. Arm snaking around her waist, he tugged her around to face him, then shoved her back against the sink and brought his mouth down on hers. One hand glided up to grab a rough fistful of her hair, pulling until she gave a tiny broken gasp and crumpled against him, lips parting under the insistent thrust of his tongue.

His cock rose in triumph, still trapped inside his trousers. Fumbling with his other hand, he managed to get the zipper down and let his erection spring free. But when he yanked up the hem of her nightgown and slid his fingers between her soft, moist thighs, he froze.

“One kiss, and already wet as the ocean,” he whispered. “Is that for him, or for me?”

She blinked up at him with hazy, dilated eyes. “I… I don’t know what you mean…”

“You still want him, don’t you?” When she hesitated, he tightened his grip on her hair, bending her head back. “
Don’t you?
”

God, he loved it when that first tear escaped the corner of one eye and rolled down her cheek, the first precious gift of her submission to him. “I-I can’t help it,” she replied, her tone hoarse, ragged. Desperate. “Please don’t be angry with me…”

“Oh, I’m not angry, angel. In fact, I find it quite arousing.” Grabbing her hand, he placed it on his cock to show her he wasn’t lying. Her fingers closed around him and began to stroke. His breath caught, hissing out between gritted teeth. A fine, distracting ploy, but he wasn’t about to come like this, spurting all over her hand. Not tonight, anyway.

With a grunt, he pushed her ahead of him into the bedroom. She crawled onto the mattress, watching as he got a condom from the bedside table and rolled it on, her eyes wide and bright, a soft pink flush of excitement painted over her delicate skin.

“Get that thing off,” he ordered, nodding at her nightgown while he stripped off his own jacket. But his shirt studs were a different story. They twisted in the sweaty fabric and steadfastly refused to come loose. His fingers had gone clumsy, rubbery, unable to push buttons through holes. The devil with it. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto the bed and onto his wife, pinning her down with his body.

His hands latched onto her wrists, engulfing them in his grip. Sweet, delicate wrists that begged to be tied down, lashed to the headboard. But he couldn’t leave marks there either. Reluctantly, he let go. “Put your hands up above your head. Leave them there.”

She obeyed, her breath quickening, breasts rising and falling, already dappled with sweat. He bent his head to lick a stray droplet off one nipple, then sucked it into his mouth, biting down hard as he kneed open her thighs and plunged inside her.

Any stranger walking in on this particular scene would think it looked like rape, but the harsh light in her eyes told him how much she wanted it. How much she craved it. He remembered the first time he’d taken her like this, smacked her ass until it was bright pink then bent her over a chair, fucking her until she sobbed and begged him for mercy. He remembered how she’d dropped to her knees once they were done, kissing his feet. She’d called him Master back then, not husband. From that night forward, she’d been utterly his.

That is, until now. “Do you think of him when I fuck you?” he demanded.

Her moment of hesitation gave him his answer. “A-Aleks,
please
. I don’t want to—”

“Does he make you come the way I do? Does he make you scream his name?”

She was weeping in earnest now, her face contorted in a heady mix of shame and desire. Beautiful. Broken. All traces of the cool, composed diva completely obliterated. Could that callow young tenor really reduce her to her basest elements like this? Tear her down until there was nothing left but the need to give herself over to ecstasy?

As if on cue, her spasms started, rolling through her like thunder, sweeping him along in their wake. He thrust harder, hands sliding under her ass while he emptied himself into her. Her thighs tightened around him in response, holding him a willing captive until her own climax played out, then at last he rolled off onto his back, panting and positively wrecked.

Once they’d recovered she moved closer to him, her bare, sweat-slicked body pressed against his fully clothed one. His hand tangled in her hair, stroked her flushed cheek. Ah, holy Christ, just who was he intending to fool? All these years he’d tried to convince himself she was his slave, when the opposite was the real truth.

“You still want him, don’t you?” he repeated.

“Aleks, don’t. Please. No good can come from talking about this—”

“Why not? It’s plain that he’s not out of your system. If you want him, you should have him.”

She shook her head, clutching him tighter. “I told you, I don’t want to be unfaithful anymore.”

“How is it being unfaithful if I’m in the room with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think he’s ever sucked cock?”

“
What?
” She sat up straight and stared at him. “How should I know? He’s never mentioned any male lovers.”

“But that doesn’t mean there haven’t been any. With that gorgeous face and body, I’d be surprised if he hasn’t at least…dallied on the other side.”

“Aleks, not everyone’s as polymorphously perverse as you. David’s a sweet young man from the Midwest. He hasn’t even been singing professionally for very long.”

“A virgin, perhaps. Which makes the prospect even more exciting.”

“What prospect?”

“Of us taking a lover. The
same
lover.”

“You mean…” There was that spark in her eyes again, its heat spreading into her cheeks, making her breath quicken. The same spark he’d caught a glimpse of in David’s eyes. He was sure of it now. “The three of us? Together?”

Grinning, he nodded. “I can see you like the idea.”

“Oh, but it’s ridiculous! David will never agree to it.”

“He will if he’s approached the right way.”

She wavered, temptation warring with propriety, but her parted lips and freshly pebbled nipples told him which side had tipped the scales. “And what way would that be?”

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her on top of him and claimed her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands, my angel. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”