Page 42 of His UnBearable Touch

There was a moment of confusion in the room.

Uberto launched in first. “What’s wrong with her dress?”

Natale sighed. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

He chuffed, a sound that they all recognized from the youngest brother. “What does she need? A different color? What does she care?”

Valerio’s voice rumbled in his chest. “Watch your mouth.”

Allegra stroked his chest. “Calm yourself. I didn’t take any offense.”

The two younger brothers turned on each other, growling under their breaths. Natale put an end to it with a whistle.

“See, this is why I don’t trust any of you on fashion.” She wrapped an arm around Allegra. “Now that she bears his mark, I’ll have to cover it up, at least for tonight. It’s healing, but it will likely still be red and scarred at least for a day or two.”

The men quieted down and Valerio opened his mouth to speak.

It tickled Allegra. Feeling her connection to him continue to deepen, she could almost feel his emotions along with her own when they were fresh and near the surface. “Don’t you apologize, Valerio. I got what I asked for and I’m happy. Beyond happy.” She covered Natale’s hand with her own. “Let’s go and see what we can do for tonight.”

The ladies left the room laughing sweetly with each other before they shut the door.

* * *

The gala performance at the zoo was amazing. Any worries that Allegra had before they took the makeshift stage in front of the central fountain had dissolved the instant she felt the solid neck of her cello in one hand and her bow in the other.

She’d always felt a connection to music. The headaches that she’d had as a child could only be cured by music. It had taken years to discover the notes and chords that eased the pain in her head, silenced the nagging sensations that turned her stomach and had left her cowering in the chilly silence of her tiled bathroom.

As a teenager, when most kids that were her own age were out at the mall or hanging out at the lake, Allegra found solace with mentors who were made of marble. Bach, Beethoven, Debussy, were the friends who knew her secrets, the loneliness that she felt in a roomful of people.

At Julliard, she’d discovered a crowd that understood her oddity. They were companions in her strange desire to take the work of long dead composers and make it into a tangible, breathing entity. Music had become a bridge to the outside world, a tentative connection to people that didn’t see the world in keys and tempos.

And with the audience sitting before her, the cool autumn air washing over her skin, and the soft play of water behind her, Allegra felt like she was truly alive. Her bow sang across the strings, giving voice to the music her fingers drew along the fingerboard.

Never much of a performer on her own, her instrument gave her new life. Allegra used the music to tease and taunt, beg and plead, and commune with the audience and her fellow performers.

As the final notes of ‘the Swan’ dissolved into the darkness, the audience had erupted with cheers.

The stage crew took her cello and bow, stepping back to allow the patrons to come up onto the stage. With such fundraisers, the people who had purchased tickets had paid quite a pretty penny to attend and feel connected to the event.

Essa stood beside her for the most part, leaning closer to her to be heard above the pressing crowd. He introduced her to people she recognized by name from the society papers and the gossip magazines that she’d read back before the attack.

Actors and personalities gushed over her performance. Business and calling cards were set into her hand. It was a heady rush of new sensations.

And through it all, she felt him in the darkness. Valerio, standing with his family. Now, her family.

She smiled to herself as she nodded and smiled while a real-estate mogul of some notoriety pumped her hand over and over.

She heard a note of concern in her head and shook her head slightly, hoping that Valerio would see it and relax.

The man holding her hand was aggressive, but he was harmless. She enjoyed hearing his feelings about the performance. He sounded like a man more used to a classic rock concert. She heard a little Southern flavor in his voice, a bit of an accent that he’d never be able to shake no matter how hard he tried. He was truly appreciative for the experience, but she also heard a little tinge of curiosity in his tone.

Coming to a head when he asked her. “Would you be free to join me for dinner some night?”

Allegra heard Essa’s quiet indrawn breath beside her, but she knew she could handle it. It gave her a quick moment of ridiculous pride. Still, she wished she could see Essa’s expression.

“I’m sorry, Mister-”

“Allen. Geoffrey Allen.”

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