Page 31 of Her Dirty Secret
The feeling only intensifies after we’ve finished and are headed into Benaroya Hall, just a couple blocks from the restaurant. The crowds of well-dressed patrons stream into the building, and I can’t help feeling a bit like a princess. Alessandro leads me patiently by the hand, giving me plenty of time to ascend the steps in a way that doesn’t snag the delicate material of my gown.
As I climb the last step, he squeezes my hand and shakes his head.
“What?” I ask.
“You’ll just tell me to stop the charming shtick,” he says with a smile.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re probably right.”
With a chuckle, he leads me inside and to our seats. My jaw drops when I see how close we’ll be.
“How’d you get these seats? They’re amazing,” I breathe softly into his ear as he takes his seat next to me.
He turns a dazzling smile on me. “I told you. Music is one of my great loves. I’ve been a donor and subscriber for years. I’m not completely full of shit, you know.”
I put my hand over my mouth, unwilling to burst into laughter in such a setting. As the lights dim, he turns from me to focus on the stage. I stare at him, remembering my thoughts the first night I met him. Wondering if he really was more than the man I thought him to be. But maybe it’s because he is, and so much more, that I’m so unsure.
Before my emotions can completely carry me off, the music starts to swell, and it does the job for me. Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony begins, and I’m carried into a world that only music can transport me to. My heart swells with the beauty of it, tears of joy leaking unbidden from my eyes. The few times I look over at Alessandro, he’s, for once, not focused on me at all, seemingly similarly transported by the music.
And when it’s over, I’m riding high on the excitement of the experience. “That was unbelievable,” I sigh as I follow him out into the cool night. A little too cool. I shudder at the abrupt change of temperature. Seeing my discomfort, Alessandro removes his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders.
The lingering warmth and the scent of him settles over me. I look up at him, trying not to connect all the emotion that the music evoked to him. But he brings out his own response in me. And in this moment, that’s pretty hard to deny.
I step up onto my toes and press my mouth to his. The familiar warmth makes me tighten inside. But he only returns the kiss for a moment before pressing back.
“Come, I’ll walk you home,” he says in a restrained tone.
I try not to be annoyed. Really, I do. But it’s just the same as when we arrived in Italy. He’s holding back, thinking too much. I can tell.
By the time we make it to my front door, I’m so over it all. I shrug out of his jacket, handing it back.
“I had fun. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Okay, well, take care then.” I turn around, fishing my keys out of my bag.
But he has other ideas. He grabs me gently by the arms, turning me to face him.
“Tell me why.”
“Why what?” I ask impatiently.
“Why do I scare you so?”
I feel the anger rise in me. But just as quickly, I realize he’s right. He scares the shit out of me with his intensity. His insistence that we’re perfect for each other. His expectations.
“You want things from me I can’t give you.”
“Bullshit.” His dark eyes are filled with fire. “You’re scared to give what you have.”
“Yes,” I admit with a tired laugh. To him. To myself. “I’ve been down this road before. It’s never turned out well for me. Can’t we just enjoy each other? Without giving … more?”
“But you’ve given it to others.” His mouth turns down, and the sorrow there is like a punch to the gut.
Again, he’s not wrong. I’ve loved men before who could never give me back what I wanted to give them. But maybe the tables have turned.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you want,” I repeat.