Authors: Cat Grant
EntangledTrio (4 page)
They left for Switzerland on Christmas Eve and arrived in the charming mountain hamlet of Zermatt in time for dinner. Colette burst out in delighted laughter when she saw the sleigh Aleks had hired to collect them at the train station, drawn by real reindeer. Bundled up in thick furs, they bounced along the snowy streets to their private chalet at the foot of the Matterhorn.
Wooden and rustic-looking from a distance, on the inside it was as comfortable as any modern home. The living room, dining room and kitchen took up the ground floor, with the master bedroom and bath up above. The entire north-facing side of the house was fashioned out of tempered glass, offering a breathtaking view of the mountains. Even now, well after sunset, Colette couldn’t tear herself away from it. Finally Aleks had to take her gently but firmly by the hand and lead her to the dining table, where their chef stood ready to serve them dinner.
Later, they curled up together in front of the fireplace, relaxing and sipping mulled wine. But when several long minutes went by with nary a peep out of either of them, Alex prompted, “What’s wrong, my angel?”
“For once, absolutely nothing.” She let out a contented sigh. “It’s been so long since it was just the two of us. We practically have to make an appointment to see each other these days.”
“The price one pays for a successful career, I suppose. Would you rather go back to being struggling, starving novices, like we were when we first met?”
“Frankly, yes.” His raised eyebrows told her she’d better elaborate. “In fact, I’ve been thinking of asking Dieter to cancel my engagements in the States next year.”
“But…you’re scheduled to sing Octavian at the Met next spring. Why would you want to cancel that?”
“Because I’m tired, Aleks. The constant traveling is getting to me. I don’t like being away from you for weeks at a time. Every time I come back, we have to get to know each other all over again. And as far as our…arrangement goes, it’s not working for me anymore.”
“Does this have something to do with the young tenor you worked with in San Francisco?”
All she could do was stare at him. “H-How did you know about him?”
“Angel, you’re a superb singer and actress, but that beautiful face of yours can’t keep a secret—at least, not from me. I could tell by the way you two looked at each other that he was the one.” A tiny sigh, and then, “Did he keep you amused?”
“That’s just it. I don’t want to be
amused
anymore. It used to be exciting, knowing we had each other’s permission to ease our loneliness when we were apart. But it hasn’t made me happy in a long time. Can you honestly say it’s made
you
happy?”
“Not lately, no,” he replied. “There was another young protégé who looked promising, but nothing came of it. And truthfully, I couldn’t even be bothered to care.”
A few years ago his admission would have shocked her, but not because of the sleeping-with-men part. Aleks had been living a discreet but active bisexual lifestyle when they’d met. He’d always had an insatiable appetite for both men and women, though when they married he’d promised never to take another female lover. She was all the woman he needed.
But his rise to prominence as principal conductor of the
Orchestre de Paris
had brought him fame, money—and dozens of handsome young musicians throwing themselves at him. The more talented ones he took under his wing, serving as their musical mentor, introducing them to the right people. Over the years he’d cultivated valuable connections in most of Europe’s major concert halls and opera houses, not to mention the top classical recording companies. He’d had a hand in launching the careers of several bright new stars—and Colette was fairly sure he’d fucked them all.
It used to bother her in the early years of their marriage, but not anymore. If Aleks was going to leave her for some twenty-something violinist, he would’ve done it long before now. Still, she found it alarming to hear him say he’d grown weary of the chase, even if it did put them squarely on the same page.
“Did he turn you down?” she asked softly.
“Is it that apparent?”
“Well, Simone did say you’ve been upset about something lately.”
“So naturally it’s because someone’s dealt a blow to my fragile male ego.” He chuckled bitterly. “And who’s to say she’s not right? At my age, I should probably get used to rejection.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. You’re forty-three. Hardly ready for retirement.”
“Neither are you. Which means I want you to give more thought to cancelling those American engagements. Our marriage is important, but so is your career. Most opera singers don’t hit their peak until they reach their forties. You still have a few more years to go.”
“I can’t do this for a few more years. I don’t want to be separated from you for seven or eight months out of next year. I want to work in Europe, so I can fly home on my days off between performances. And I want us to be exclusive. Monogamous.”
Cupping her chin, he studied her expression for a long moment. “This is truly what you want?”
“Yes. With all my heart.”
“Then how can I refuse?” He broke out in a wide smile that rivaled the bright golden light spilling over them from the fire—not to mention the heat flaring to life inside both of them. They couldn’t tear each other’s clothes off fast enough.
Colette’s head was spinning from both the wine and sheer happiness by the time Aleks eased her back down on the thick sheepskin rug. She could’ve sworn she heard him murmur, “Merry Christmas, angel,” right before he parted her legs and dove hungrily between them.
Aleks awoke her with a soft kiss the next morning and led her downstairs to the sun-filled dining room for coffee and delicious
blini
he’d prepared himself, served with sour cream and black currant jam. Light and buttery, they melted on Colette’s tongue like snowflakes. She loved it when Aleks cooked traditional Russian dishes, though he was normally too busy with work to get in the kitchen very often. Ravenous though she was, she forced herself to slow down and savor each bite, not to mention the view of the gorgeous, steeply scarped mountains outside their window. Merry Christmas, indeed.
Afterward, he cleared their dishes then returned to the table with a fresh pot of coffee and a sly smile on his face. “I know we agreed the trip would be our gift to each other this year, but I have a surprise for you.”
As if the luxury of his company for the next few days wasn’t enough. With a mock sigh, she replied, “That’s very sweet, but there’s nothing else I need.”
“What would you say if I told you I’ll be conducting your
Carmen
next month?”
Time froze as she stared at him, waiting for some clue that he was joking. But he wouldn’t joke about this, not today. Not ever. Not when he knew how much this role meant to her. “B-But I thought Pappano was scheduled to—”
“He was, but he had to drop out a couple of weeks ago. And luckily, my old friend Popov at the
Paris Opéra
owes me a favor.” Aleks and Sergei Popov, the opera’s general director, had known each other since their student days in St. Petersburg. Another case of Aleks exploiting a personal connection for the sake of career, in this instance his own. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
Suddenly she realized her mouth was hanging open in shock rather than delight. “I am, I’m just…a bit stunned. I had no idea you were planning this.”
“That’s why it’s called a surprise, my angel.”
“But what about your obligations with the
Orchestre de Paris
?”
“There are only seven performances of
Carmen
, spread out over three weeks. It shouldn’t be that difficult to integrate them into my schedule.”
“Not difficult? You already work so hard I’m amazed you haven’t landed in the hospital.”
He reached for her hand, clasping it tightly. “Is this your way of telling me you’d rather I didn’t accept the engagement?”
Was it? She and Aleks hadn’t worked together in almost five years. They had no rule against it, but it was difficult enough getting them in the same city, never mind the same concert hall or opera house. But now it appeared that a dream project had fallen into their laps. A role she’d been longing to sing her entire career. An entire month of seeing Aleks every day at rehearsal, plus another three weeks of performances. Dear God, she’d be insane to turn that down!
“Of course I want you to accept, but…” Despite Colette’s success, inside her lurked this tiny, nagging voice telling her it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world discovered she was really a no-talent fraud. It was ridiculous, but she still couldn’t shake it. “I’m afraid of disappointing you.”
“Impossible. You’ll be magnificent. The finest Carmen since Berganza.”
“Oh, wonderful. No pressure there at all.”
“You worry too much,” he said, rising and pulling her along with him, right into his arms. “Fortunately, I know a remedy for that.” Then he led her back upstairs, eased her down on the bed and proceeded to fuck her into oblivion.
The savory aromas of garlic, rosemary and sage tickled David’s nostrils the moment he walked through his parents’ front door. Smelled like his mother’s famous holiday rib roast. He dropped his bag in the foyer, pulled off his coat and hung it in the nearby closet, then strode down the hallway to the kitchen. Same scene he remembered from every Christmas they’d had here while he was growing up, with his mom bustling about trying to get everything on the table before the rest of the family expired from hunger.
“Hey,” he said, waving to her from the doorway.
She swung around, then set down a pan of dinner rolls and came over to give him a hug. “We’d given you up for lost. Thought you were coming in yesterday.”
“My flight got cancelled. Spent the night sleeping in a chair at JFK waiting for another one.” Every muscle in his body still ached from it—and from the bruises Colette had given him a few days ago—but nevertheless he managed a punch-drunk grin. “But here I am. I made it.”
“And you couldn’t have called to let us know you’d be late?”
“Hey, give me a break. I didn’t even know I was on a flight ‘til twenty minutes before it took off. I had to run from one end of the concourse to the other. And when I finally got on the plane, they made me turn off my phone—”
“Okay, okay. You’re off the hook—this time,” she said with a wink. He couldn’t help noticing how much older she looked than the last time he’d seen her—more gray now than brunette, more tired, with deeply etched lines tugging at her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Only fifty, but she could’ve easily passed for a decade older. David knew things had been rough for her and Dad these past couple of years since the recession hit, but until now he hadn’t realized just how rough. “Go on in the living room and say hi to everyone. We should be ready to eat in a few minutes.”
David took a step in that direction, then hesitated. “How’s he doing tonight?”
She shrugged. “How do you think? The garage’s business is down another twenty percent from last year. Every week he braces himself to get a pink slip along with his paycheck. Good thing I decided to stay on at the market. No matter how broke people get, they still have to eat.” She waved him off. “Go say hello to him and get it over with.”
Steeling himself, he followed the buzz of voices and laughter across the hallway to the living room. It was crammed full of people—aunts, uncles and cousins he hadn’t seen since last Christmas taking up every chair, gathered around the fireplace and brightly lit tree. His parents always insisted on a real tree, cut down from the woods behind their house. David found the familiar sharp scent of pine rather comforting, until his father’s bleary, beer-dulled gaze locked on him from across the room.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. High and Mighty Opera Singer!” he boomed, then knocked back his last slug of Bud. “So kind of you to grace us with your presence!”
Oh shit.
Exactly what he’d been dreading his entire flight. “C’mon, Dad, lighten up. It’s just me.” David laughed, and thank God everyone else except his dad joined in, though the sound echoed tense and brittle in his own ears. He slowly navigated through the crowd of relatives, exchanging hugs and handshakes, finally ending up face-to-face with his father. But when David reached out to give him a hug, his father fell back a step.
Okay then. If that’s how he wanted it. David stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets. Was it his imagination, or had the old man sprouted an extra chin? He looked flushed too. He’d always had a ruddy complexion, which the beer had no doubt enhanced, but tonight he’d taken on a slight purplish cast beneath the vivid spots of red on his cheeks. But that’s what happened when you only saw people once a year. They changed.
“I made it back as soon as I could,” David continued. “Flying out of New York’s tricky around the holidays.”
“In that case, I don’t know why you bothered.” He ambled over to the bar to get himself another beer—without offering David one. “You should’ve stayed home with all your fancy, famous friends.”
“I don’t know that many famous people.”
He grunted. “Even if it’s only one, that’s still more than I know.”
David opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. No point goading him. He was already two sheets to the wind, with number three coming up fast on the outside. Best to stay out of his line of fire until the evening was over.
His mother called everyone into the dining room a few minutes later. David sat next to his grandmother, who clasped his hand in her thin, bony one and murmured to him in a soft voice he had to lean in close to hear. Ninety-six years old and, despite her physical frailty, still bright-eyed and sharp as a tack.
“I saw your broadcast from San Francisco on PBS. My, what a provocative opera! I was a bit surprised at what you were wearing—or rather, what you
weren’t
wearing—in the last act.”
He laughed. “It’s an unusual costume, that’s for sure. Good thing I had help getting in and out of it.”
“And your costar was quite glamorous. A beautiful lady with a lovely voice.”
Just who he didn’t want to be reminded of.
Damn!
Now he couldn’t stop wondering what Colette was doing right now—and with whom. “Yes, she is. And she’s every bit as beautiful offstage too.”
“I’d like to propose a toast,” came his father’s blustery tone from the head of the table. Wobbling to his feet, he held up his beer bottle. “To my prodigal son—thanks for remembering to stop by. We little people appreciate it.”
David’s hands curled into fists under the table, but he took a deep breath and forced another smile. He was amazed his face hadn’t cracked in half by now. “That’s funny, Dad. I get it. We all got it—the
first
time.”
His father’s smirk faded abruptly. “What’s the matter, you too good to laugh at my jokes?”
“Will you stop it? It’s
me
, Dad. I’m the same person I’ve always been. Quit trying to make such a big deal out of my career.”
“Fine. I’ll keep that in mind for next time—if there is a next time.”
“What, you don’t think I’ll be back?”
“You wouldn’t be the first ungrateful asshole to forget where he came from on his way to the top.”
For a second, David couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. This went beyond his father’s usual pointed needling.
Way
beyond. Standing slowly, he tossed his napkin on the table. “You know what? Fuck this—and fuck
you
, old man. It’s not my fault your life’s so miserable you have to get hammered every night. I don’t know what your fucking problem with me is, but it’s
your
problem, not mine.” He glanced around the table, taking in the rest of the family’s shocked faces. “Sorry to ruin everyone’s dinner. I’ll get out of here and leave you all in peace.”
His mother followed him out to the foyer, grabbing hold of his coat sleeve as he tried to put it back on. “Get back in there and tell him you’re sorry.”
“For
what
? I didn’t do anything!”
“Other than cursing at him in his own house! Humiliating him in front of everybody!”
“What about
him
humiliating
me
? Or doesn’t that matter?” One look at her haggard, desperate expression, and he had his answer. “After all these years, you’re still making excuses for him. Well, I’ve had it. I’m not taking any more of his abuse.” He buttoned his coat and picked up his bag. “If he wants to apologize, he’s got my phone number. Not that I’ll be holding my breath.”
“David,
please
. Don’t go.”
He’d just started toward the front door, but her plaintive tone made him come back to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. “Sorry, Mom. I have to.” Then he turned and walked out.