Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
And after that, I shove all such thoughts aside.
The show must always go on, and by the time I get up on the rehearsal stage, I am no longer the nineteen-year-old girl who's fallen head over heels for the tall, dark, and handsome patron whose billion-dollar fortune is the reason why penniless girls like me can study in one of the world's most prestigious arts university.
Riri is gone, and in her place is Carmen.
And that is how it should always be, to sing with one's heart and soul.
My heart is still pounding even when I'm already backstage. It always takes me a while to shake off my character and remember who and where I am.
"Riri?" It's the stage manager Sierah, with her usual headphones around her neck and clipboard in hand. "Joyce says she wants to talk to you. Could you wait for her in your dressing room?"
"No prob."
I get rid of my costume as soon as I'm in my dressing room. I always feel hot and sticky after rehearsals, and it's pure bliss when I step into the shower.
Aaaaaah.
Most people sing when they have wonderfully hot water cascading down their bodies. But because singing is all that I do, what I love the most when having a shower is the silence.
All I want to do is listen to the steady rush of water jetting down my body.
Even the sound of simply soaping my body and shampooing my hair is soothing.
My mind usually works a hundred miles per minute for most of the day. Everyone knows I also dream of being a composer and directing musicals.
And so if I'm not singing, I'm writing.
If I'm not writing, I'm daydreaming.
The only time my mind takes a break is when I'm in the shower.
It's thirty minutes of pure tranquility and gratitude.
Because life is good.
It has its ups and downs.
But I'm alive.
I'm doing what I love.
And I have God.
What else can I ask for?
It's a rhetorical question obviously, but I realize the answer to this as I finish my shower, and I'm wrapping a towel around my body when I hear the door to the dressing room open and close.
I turn around, expecting to see Joyce, but instead, I find...
Jacques.
I don't even realize I've whispered his name out loud until I see his tall and powerful frame jerk.
"That's Mr. Carpentier for you."
His voice is as icy cool as the silvery blaze of his eyes.
"And will you cover yourself?"
I'm about to say I'm already covered when I suddenly realize that this is it.
That one thing I would love to have in my life, but I've never dared to pray for because I didn't want God to think I'm being greedy.
But since he's already here...
Jacques
Two weeks.
It's the longest I've stayed away from her, and every day of it has been hell.
She's all I can think of even when I'm at the office.
I'm out having business meetings or I'm working out at the gym, and none of this makes a difference.
I'm thinking of her 24/7, and the worst part of my day is when I'm in bed, and I have to fight against the urge to jerk myself off to thoughts of her.
Why the hell can't I stop thinking about her?
A call to my office gives me an alibi to end my torture. Joyce handles everything related to the budget and finance of the music department. She says she's found the perfect housing arrangements for our cast, and she wants me to be there when she gives them the good news.
"You think you can make it?" Joyce was my father's secretary, and I've always thought she was the better part of my inheritance. She's one of the few people in my life who isn't intimidated by my wealth. She says it as it is, just like what she's doing now.
"It's been a while since they last saw you. Nobody wants to work for an absentee producer."
"I've been busy," I lie. "But you're right. I'll be there."
"Meet me at Dressing Room C? We'll start with Riri."
I must've said something before I hung up.
Or at least I think I did.
Because the truth is, my mind had shut down the moment I heard her name.
Damn her.
Damn her.
Damn her.
My mood is still black as hell when I get to the university. It pisses me off that the mere thought of seeing her again has my heart thumping like mad.
What the hell is she doing to me?
I enter the dressing room, and the first thing I see is her.
In.
Nothing.
But.
A.
Fucking.
Towel.
It's almost like life is having a shitload of fun torturing me.
Damn her. Damn her. Damn her.
I know the only thing to do now is to walk out of this room.
But instead, I find myself staring.
Because I want her, dammit.
I want her like I've never wanted any other woman.
And right now, I want her more than ever.