Page 14 of Mafioso's Muse

‘But more expensive.’

The lights dimmed, and the theatre fell silent. From the moment the orchestra began to play, Willow was immersed into the world ofLes Misérables. Her eyes were fixed on the stage, taking in every detail, from the elaborate set to the costumes. She was transported to Paris, 1815, where she soaked up every emotion, song, and piece of dialogue. Each scene drew her deeper into the story. Though she was dragged out of it every time Harrison leaned in to whisper an observation or give a critique. She eventually grew tired of the constant interruptions and leaned away, putting space between them.

When Javert sang the final few notes of ‘Stars,’ Willow almost burst from her seat. She looked around as she applauded, drinking in the reactions of the audience. Her gaze drifted to the private boxes, three each side, wondering if the luxury added to their experience. To her left, an older couple sat in the box closest to the stage, politely clapping. The second box contained a group of four. They were more interested in keeping hold of their drinks than applauding. But at least they were smiling. The third box…

Willow stiffened when she recognised Vaughn Gallo seated alone.

Harrison must have noticed her reaction because he leaned over and whispered, ‘What’s wrong?’

Her gaze snapped to his, and she forced a smile. ‘Nothing. Just caught up in the music.’

He straightened as the applause died out and returned his attention to the play.

Willow tried to focus on it also, but her eyes kept returning to Vaughn. There was something electric about watching him follow the performance, completely unaware that he was being scrutinised. He appeared relaxed for the most part, an ankle resting on one knee and arms taking up the entirety of the armrests. His jaw tensed periodically, but other than that, he rarely moved. Willow couldn’t tell whether he was enjoying it or not, but he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would stick around if he wasn’t. She kept waiting for someone else to enter and join him. A date, perhaps. But no one came.

At intermission, the lights came on, and Willow picked up her bag. ‘I’m going to the bathroom.’

‘Meet you in the foyer?’

‘Good plan.’

She made her way downstairs to the larger bathroom. The line was out the door and halfway across the room. She reluctantly joined the queue.

While she was waiting there, Vaughn walked by, pulling a cigarette from a silver case. A small part of her wanted him to look in her direction, to notice her. Maybe even tofeelher standing there. But the room was pure chaos, with queues for the bar clashing with the one for the bathrooms. She watched in disappointment as he disappeared through the main doors to the street, eyes straight ahead.

Willow remained in line for a few more minutes, making little progress. Then, looking towards the exit, she abandoned her place in the queue and went outside. Her heart rate was elevated as she stepped out into the evening air, greeted by the sound of a tram passing by and laughter spilling out from the pub next door. Looking both ways, she spotted Vaughn leaned against the wall down the footpath, a lit cigarette between his fingers. She watched as his head tipped back to rest against the brick, eyes closing for a moment. The ink on his neck was on full display, and her eyes narrowed on the cross at the base of it.

Slowly, she walked towards him, stopping a good five feet away. ‘Someone once told me that every packet of cigarettes a person smokes takes twenty-eight minutes off their life.’

Vaughn opened his eyes, his gaze landing on her with such weight that she almost took a step back. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Same thing you are. Losing a piece of myself to this musical.’

He pushed off the wall and moved to put his cigarette out.

‘Don’t do that,’ she said. ‘Finish it.’

‘So youwantmy lifespan shortened?’

Colour rushed to her cheeks. ‘No.’

He took one more drag before putting it out, then slid his hands into his pockets. ‘Who are you here with?’

For some reason she hesitated. ‘Harrison.’

He studied her a moment. ‘You two on a date?’

‘No.’ The word came too quickly, like she was guilty of something. ‘That would hardly be appropriate given his position.’

Vaughn didn’t reply.

She felt the need to explain herself. ‘He wanted my opinion on the refurbishments.’

Nothing changed on his face. ‘And what’s your opinion?’

‘It looks amazing. You can tell every detail has been carefully thought out.’ A car revved past them, and she glanced in its direction. ‘Are you here with someone?’

Vaughn shook his head. ‘No.’