Page 93 of Lawbreaker

He laughed. “Me, too. At least we don’t have to worry about Ben overhearing us.”

“I never knew it would be like this,” she confessed. “I mean, it’s almost like an obsession. You get so hungry...!” She flushed and stopped the words.

“It is an obsession,” he agreed. “The sweetest obsession in the world.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know how I lived before you came along.”

Her lips parted on a quick breath. Had she really heard him say that?

His arms drew her closer. “One day at a time—isn’t that your mantra?” he teased. “It works for me, too. But I can’t live on leftover passion,” he added at her ear. “After all, we have to have something to look forward to.” He rolled her over and kissed her hungrily. “Feast after famine,” he whispered into her softly swollen mouth. “And I fear we’ve feasted too enthusiastically. Again.”

She looked up at him with warm, loving eyes. “I don’t care,” she said huskily. “It’s worth it.”

He brushed the damp hair away from her face. “I don’t like hurting you,” he said seriously. “I have to learn to be less enthusiastic when we’re together. I’m sorry. I should have stopped sooner.”

“I didn’t want to stop and you didn’t hurt me,” she denied, her arms wreathed around his neck. “I love being with you like this. I love it that you want me so much.” She swallowed, hard, and lowered her eyes to his chest. “I want you...all the time,” she confessed, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear it.

He groaned as he bent to her mouth and kissed her with a tender intensity that made tears spring in her eyes. “It’s like that with me, too,” he whispered. “Even when you’re not with me, you’re still with me.”

“Yes.”

He wrapped her up tight and just held her for the longest time. He couldn’t conceive of a life without her. But she had a unique talent, one that she’d spent her whole life nurturing so that she could sing at the Met. It wasn’t fair to her to keep her here like this, with no commitment, to...use her.

He hated the way that sounded. He really wasn’t using her. He adored her. She’d become as necessary to him as breathing. But he kept his feelings hidden, under control. He didn’t want to influence her choices. She should be free to do what she wanted with her life.

Maybe one day he’d have a chance to keep her, somewhere down the line. But he couldn’t force her to choose a life with him, not with all their differences. He felt guilty that he’d pushed it like this, that he hadn’t been able to resist her.

He really hadn’t. He’d ached for her, and not just for a few weeks. Ever since his first sight of her, he’d been obsessed with her. She was the icing on the cake, the angel on top of the Christmas tree. She was...the whole world.

But he couldn’t tell her that. It wasn’t fair. Right now, she was caught up in her first love affair, and she was saturated with hunger for him. It would wear off, as obsessions did. Then where would they be? She had opera, which was her life’s work.

He had...well, he had work, too. But his work would never make up for the lack of Odalie in his life.

Even if opera would make up for the lack of him in her life. It was something that had to be faced.

But not right now. Not today.

He rolled onto his side and curled her soft body into his. And they fell asleep, with nothing resolved.

14

And so, they rocked on for three weeks, while Mrs. Murdock’s mother survived surgery and rehab, and while Tony and Odalie grew closer by the day. But it wasn’t just a physical closeness. Odalie loved being with him. He was funny and full of stories about things that had happened to him, about the gallery and art that he’d purchased, about his travels. She listened to him by the hour, loving just his company.

Inevitably, they spent time in the bedroom, mostly at her apartment because of Ben’s excellent hearing. But even as they grew closer, Tony slowly started them drifting apart. She had the audition upcoming, and he was as nervous as she was. He wanted her to have her shot at the Met. But he hated letting her go. His life would be empty. It was selfish, feeling like that, but he couldn’t help it. She’d become the light in his darkness. How would he see when she left him?

The audition was less harrowing than she’d thought it would be. She passed it with flying colors, and she was even given a part in the holiday production. It wasn’t a big part, but it was a singing part.

The only thing was that she threw up when she got home, and had to take a tranquilizer as well. The thought of being onstage in a production, even in a minor role, was horrifying to her.

This was why she’d never really pushed herself. She’d done the visiting young artist programs back home, she’d sung in the church choir, but those performances weren’t for the Met. They were, however, just as terrifying.

She’d talked to her therapist back home about her inability to cope with the reality of performing in front of people, that it never got easier, that the terror never left her. He’d suggested hypnotherapy, but she didn’t want to mess with her mind. And then he’d suggested that she might just do operatic recordings, if she felt she really couldn’t manage the overwhelming stage fright.

She’d spoken with her doctor as well. He’d advised her to think long and hard about applying that sort of continual stress to her life. If she was really that afraid of performing in front of a live audience, the rewards might not be worth the price she’d pay. He knew how well she sang; he was always encouraging her to use her voice. But he reminded her that a career should be something approached with joy, not stark terror. All the authorities said that stage fright could be controlled, even eliminated. There were case histories, however, of people who finally gave up their dreams of stardom just to lose the constant stress and upset.

Lastly, she spoke to her mother, finally, about the problem. Heather had never had stage fright. She loved performing. But she’d known singers who’d had to give it up because they became alcoholics or addicts, due to the enormous stress of doing something that frightened them constantly. It was an individual thing. Heather could advise, but it was going to be up to Odalie to decide if she wanted to spend the next decades of her life being terrified every time she walked onto a stage.

There was one last consideration as well, but she couldn’t confide in anyone about it. She loved Tony. She’d never felt such a passion for any man alive, and she knew in her heart that she never would again. She was a one-man woman.

If it came to a choice between life with Tony and a career on the stage, Tony would win hands down, just as Cole Everett had when Heather’d had to make the same choice. It had been harder for Heather, too, because she was already well-known in her profession.

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