A Dance for Him (35 page)

It especially
doesn’t
help that she’s still dressed in the outfit she had on this morning, and so when I hugged her one of my hands came in contact with the tempting bare flesh of her lower back …

She apologises profusely, stammering slightly, for her earlier panic. Says it’s something she should have dealt with on her own. She shouldn’t have freaked out, she says, it was just that she’d settled down so nicely in the apartment that the thought of trying to find another one in the middle of high season made her panic. Of course she’ll find a hotel room somewhere while looking for a new apartment, she says, though she’s not sure where to park the baby grand piano she rented for the summer in the meantime. She keeps apologising for some reason, poor silly girl, as though the whole thing were her fault somehow.

It was all very sudden, she continues, she was just about to change into her dress for tonight when the landlord showed up.

And then she tells me something that makes my blood boil.

Because, when she protested, he apparently told her that he
might
be able to find her and her piano a place to stay if they came to some sort of an arrangement, in a tone and with a leer that suggested it wasn’t a financial arrangement he was thinking of, to say the least.

That’s quite enough for me, the idea of this utter
sleazebag
having the cheek to randomly proposition my beautiful darling girl makes me sick.

“Now, Evie,” I say, taking her hand and looking at her very earnestly, “I don’t want you back here alone, not even for tonight, not when this man has the keys to the place. It’s not safe. As for your stuff, I’ll call Aurelia and she can arrange to have everything packed and moved by tomorrow. Take a change of clothes with you, we’ll leave it at my place, and leave your key there as well, she can pick it up from there.”

“But w-where will everything go?” she stammers, wide-eyed.

I cover her hand (warm, soft, so infinitely yielding!) with my other hand reassuringly. “There’s plenty of room in the palazzo. You won’t even need the piano, but if you would prefer, we can have it in a different room so you can practise in there.”

“The palazzo? You mean, I’d be st-staying with you?”

I look searchingly at her for any signs of displeasure or suspicion, but the only thing I can find in that sweet face appears to be a sort of stunned wonderment.

“Yes, Evie. I don’t see why not, unless you have any objections. We are going to be working together, anyhow, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t just stay with me for the summer. As far as I’m concerned, it would be an honor and a pleasure to have you around,” I say, keeping my voice warm but firm, not wanting to give her the impression that I’m no better than this rascally landlord whom I hope I never run into, because it’d probably be hard for me to resist punching him.

She blushes nevertheless, though I hope not because of any hint of insinuation that I may have let stray into my voice despite all my efforts. Then she smiles, tentatively and shyly at first, then radiantly, as I smile back at her, and I feel her squeeze my hand gently.

“Oh, Maestro,” she breathes, in that sweet voice of hers, “you’re too kind. Thank you so much. I’d love to stay with you, though I certainly hope I won’t bother you too much with my practising.”

“No bother at all, I assure you,” I say, and impulsively kiss her hand in a most un-teacherly way.

When I look up at her she’s staring at me, seemingly rapt and luminously happy, which makes my heart skip a beat, especially when I think that she probably didn’t react in quite the same way to the landlord’s offer!

I stand up. “Anyhow, my dear, go get your things for tonight and we’ll drop them off. I’ll call Aurelia while you pack. Just what you need for tonight and tomorrow, everything else will be taken care of.”

“Thank you so much, Maestro,” she whispers, and turns to go off to her room.

“Oh, and Evie?” I say, just before she enters her room, and she spins around to look at me expectantly. “I’m very glad you called me first, very glad that you trusted me enough to tell me everything … That’s all, I just wanted to tell you that.”

She smiles at me, ever so sweetly, and disappears into her room.

CHAPTER EIGHT

What a lovely, kind, sweet man Maestro Moretti is. And that’s quite apart from his being absolutely delicious.

I was in complete despair when I called him, and then when he arrived I suddenly felt terrible for bothering him for something that I probably could deal with on my own. It’s funny, I’m not usually that helpless, but the prospect of having to hire a piano mover
and
find a place to stay that would house the piano, both at such short notice, just made me panic.

Well, that and I’m sure the creepy landlord didn’t help either,
that
was certainly a bit of a shock. I’ve never had to deal with anything that blatant and - well, just creepy.

But now I feel safe. There’s something about the Maestro that just makes me feel safe, I don’t know what it is exactly, but it does.

Safe - and, somehow,
taken care of
.

I haven’t felt like that in a long time, not since dad took to the bottle and disappeared on me …

It’s funny, here I am, freaking out over the insinuations of the creepy landlord not so long ago, and yet now I’m suddenly hoping that maybe staying at Maestro Moretti’s will make it easier for
him
to make a pass at me, at some point over the summer if not tonight. But there it is, and suddenly I’ve gone from feeling thoroughly grossed out to feeling that strange familiar tingling between my legs.

Oh, the Maestro does something to me, there’s no question of it! The way he took charge of everything, didn’t even hesitate before inviting me to stay with him, the way he held my hand and looked at me …

And he kissed my hand! I mean, oh my God, the great
Lorenzo Moretti
kissed my hand!

I feel like some silly teenage fangirl, I practically had to restrain myself from dancing with joy when that happened, and the moment I got into my room and knew for sure that he wouldn’t see me I kissed the spot on my hand that he’d kissed.

Oh God wouldn’t it be wonderful if he were to kiss me a bit more directly tonight, and maybe not just once …

Ah, what shall I take with me for tonight. The dress I was going to change into for dinner, certainly. And then something a bit naughty for later in the evening, perhaps. A shame I haven’t got any serious lingerie, I should probably remedy that tomorrow. I’ll just take this little white cotton nightie, it’s short and relatively flimsy. And something skimpy for tomorrow.

The weather’s rather hot at the moment, so even if he doesn’t make a move tonight I’ll still have an excuse to wear, oh, a little bit of nothing when I see him tomorrow. Which should be interesting.

He did stare so very hard at me this morning, I’m sure he quite liked that ensemble …

But I mustn’t keep him waiting too long. All I need apart from the clothes are a pair of lacy panties, some makeup, my stiletto heels, something to wash my face with, maybe a bit of scent … I’ll just throw everything into a shopping bag, grab my handbag and my keys, and off I go, whee!

So now everything’s settled, my improvised overnight bag has been dropped off, and Aurelia has my apartment key.

She was very sweet and reassuring, I assume - well, I hope! - that that means she’s not involved with him, because I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t have cottoned to my more indecent designs on the Maestro, not when I can barely take my eyes off him, not when I can barely keep myself from smiling goofily whenever I study his sculpted profile, trying to fix every angle in my memory, just because he’s so utterly magnificent …

And certainly not when he tells her to fix up the guest room for me, kisses my hand (again!) and looks so tenderly and hungrily into my eyes.

No, he’s definitely not even bothering to hide anything, and she doesn’t seem to mind at all, so they are probably not involved after all - hurrah!

When Aurelia offers to show me up to my room, I ask Maestro Moretti if he would mind my changing into an outfit more suitable for tonight.

He beams. “Of course, of course, my dear, take as much time as you like.”

As I go up the stairs, I feel his eyes on me, an intuition confirmed when I look back at him - he’s staring at me so intensely that I can’t help but immediately blush and look down, temporarily unnerved (if also incredibly turned on) by the ardor of his gaze.

There is a part of me that hopes he’s staring at me like that because he’s checking out my ass and enjoying the view …

“Here’s your room,” says Aurelia, interrupting my naughty reverie, and with a start I realise that we’re on the other side of the floor from his study, and that across from my room is what is obviously
his
bedroom - the door’s open, and I can see not just a bed but also a couple of shirts and a tie flung over a nearby chair.

His bedroom!
The very thought of it causes an involuntary frisson in me.

This does not go unnoticed by Aurelia - she discreetly follows the trajectory of my gaze and says: “Yes, that’s the Maestro’s room,” in a kindly tone that suggests she’s read my mind.

For some reason I think I
should
feel mortified for being such a shameless hussy, for not bothering to conceal my extracurricular interest in Maestro Moretti …

And yet I don’t, not one bit. I figure it’s about time someone made a woman of me, and if this someone happens to be Maestro Moretti I shall be a very lucky woman indeed.

CHAPTER NINE

This girl will either make me
very
happy this summer, or she’ll be the death of me. I’m pacing up and down as I wait for her, unable to think about anything but how she looked at me, how she leaned into my hand when I (all too briefly!) touched her back, as though she wanted more.

I
wanted more, too - her skin was so soft, so smooth, so inviting, and it wouldn’t have taken very much to tug at and undo that flimsy knot that holds her top together just enough to cover those pretty tits of hers.

But of course Aurelia was around.