Page 7 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
‘You know, I—’ she began carefully, ‘I should apologise. I lied about your performance. I found it… touching.’
‘You did?’ A flicker of delight crossed his features and Kira stifled a sigh – of relief, of perplexity. How this man existed in the harsh realities of the human world, she had no idea.
‘What piece was it?’ she prompted him.
‘“Dio, che nell’alma infondere”.’ Just saying the title, his words took on rhythm, texture – strength.
‘What’s it from?’
‘Don Carlo. Giuseppe Verdi.’
‘Was I imagining it, or was the other guy in love with his own mother? I thought it was Greek tragedies that were screwed up.’
The corners of his lips turned up. ‘No, the woman he loved married his father. Instead of him.’
‘Shit.’ No wonder there had been so much drama. ‘You’re going to play a part in the performance next year?’
Wrong question. He froze up. ‘I just—’ He gestured wildly at the shower. ‘Give me a minute.’ Snatching the towel out of her hands, he bolted for the bathroom, leaving Kira blinking after him.
‘I’ll just go get you another keycard,’ she called through the door.
The only response was the soothing splash of the water in the shower.
Kira sank onto the single bed in her room ten minutes later, a replacement keycard for Mattia on her desk, her thoughts scrambled. She’d taken it in her stride – or at least with a bit of grace – that she now had to help run weddings, as well as coaching her climbing groups and leading adventure holidays. But listening to a baby-faced operatic baritone rattle the panes of the shower stall with his powerful melodies while he recovered from a mild anxiety episode – in her bathroom – was beyond what she’d ever thought she’d have to deal with.
She should have guessed he’d sing in the shower. He spoke in such soft, measured tones, his face light, his shoulders hunched and unassuming. But his voice when he sang… She could feel the adrenaline bursting out of him. She was convinced he was in there throwing his hands up in triumph or despair, his face alive with second-hand emotions as the water sluiced over his chest. It was tempting to peek in and see if she was right, except…
The water-sluicing thing she could picture in a little too much detail, and she wasn’t supposed to be noticing these things about a client who was probably a good stretch too young for her anyway – among a host of other reasons.
She jumped when her phone rang, although it wasn’t a surprise when she saw the caller ID. It was Ginny, and Kira was technically still at work, even though her work was currently twenty-four-seven and the client was naked in her shower.
‘Hey,’ she said, connecting the call. She liked Ginny, even though she was too optimistic about everything to be trusted. The labret piercing below her lip hinted at a streak of rebellion that Kira hadn’t seen yet, but she hoped it was alive and well.
‘How’s everything going? Did you find a hotel? I was worried everything would be booked out at this time of year,’ Ginny asked, at a mile-a-minute as usual. ‘Alessandra is super protective of her friend, like you might accidentally break him or something.’
Kira smiled faintly, grateful he was only humming softly at the moment, rather than bellowing his vibrato-laden operatic vowels. ‘He’s a bit… particular, but you can tell her not to worry. I’ve got it in hand.’
As if on cue, he broke into a new melody, something drawn-out and aching, and Kira’s stomach dropped.
‘Is that… him singing?’ Ginny asked, her voice high.
‘He’s in the shower.’
Ginny’s spluttering would have been funny in other circumstances. ‘In your room?’
She couldn’t exactly explain that he’d invited himself into her room so he could have his hot, water-sluicing shower and calm down, even as Kira got worked up.
‘He locked his keycard in his room.’
‘Ohhh-kaaaayyyy,’ came Ginny’s amused response.
‘It’s probably best not to tell Alessandra any of this. I will have your tenor – I mean baritone – delivered in good time for the wedding and there’s no need to worry.’
‘What’s the difference between a tenor and a baritone?’ Ginny asked in a stage whisper.
‘Damned if I know.’
‘But the “delivery” is why I’m calling. Katy, the manager here at our cabin, told me there’s a weather warning for all of Tyrol for heavy snow tomorrow.’
