Page 1 of Emilio
Prologue
Larysa
Quickly, I adjust my strapless dress as I await the trap door to open up above me. The platform I’m standing on is hard and my heels slide on the tile while hyping myself up.
This marks my fourth show in four days and I’m tired. I love the touring season mainly because of the traveling, but I get tired after three shows in a row. Plus, I miss my home.
The telltale sign of the trap door springing open and the creak of the platform beneath me has me ready to end this show strong.
My managers wanted me to do so many shows in such a short amount of time to build the energy and excitement of my new album. Also, this is the only show I have done since I broke up with Arnoldo after rumors of him cheating on me started to surface.
“Larysa! Larysa!”
“Hello!” I holler out to my fans as I fly through the trap door. All I can see is the shape of the bodies in the audience with the lights flashing in my eyes of my light show. I love seeing the faces of my fans because it lets me know I’m actually doing all of this for a reason. Of course, the money is good.
But the money isn’t going to keep me warm at night.
“Larysa! Larysa!” The crowd screams again with more energy than before.
I smile at everyone. My band is behind me ready to begin my next song in my act. The dancers get into position around me and I smile at them.
“All right. Should we do an old favorite?” I ask my fans.
The screams from the audience tell me I should.
After two songs, I’m finally finished with my show. I’m ready to take these heels off and throw myself into the car to go back to the hotel room. I’m needing to relax for a couple of days.
“Thank you everyone for being here! I truly love you all and can’t thank you enough for being here,” I croon out while bowing two more times.
I’m walking off the stage when Alto, my security guard who is with me at all times, is rushing me through the back hallways. I’m trying to dig my heels into the ground to get him to stop, but it doesn’t work. Whatever he is sensing that is happening must be serious.
“Alto!” I scream out as he picks me up and holds me close to his chest.
He doesn’t say anything until we’re seated in the limo with me tucked in the middle. I’m about to start demanding why he’s acting like this when I see a bright flashing light off to the side.
My stalker has followed me here.
“When did you find out he was here?” I ask quietly. I’m secretly not ready for the answer.
My stalker has been following me for over a year and each time he shows up, he leaves just in the nick of time so we can’t do anything. He is an average-looking guy with nothing too extreme besides his crazy-looking eyes.
“Stop talking,” Alto mutters in Greek.
The high from my show dissipates as we pull up to my favorite hotel and resort on Mount Olympus. I have loved this place since I was a little girl and my father took me here to go skiing. Skiing used to be one of my favorite past times before the craziness of being a pop star kicked in.
Alto bangs on the door twice to get the driver’s attention and then nods towards me. I have always known that to mean he wants the driver to drive around back without too much flare. He’s worried the stalker will follow us here and doesn’t want too much of an audience.
I have seen the damage Alto can do to someone and it isn’t pretty. I once watched Alto stab someone in the stomach with a knife that expands inside the human body. It was horrifying to watch, but the person was trying to come on to me.
Alto will do anything to protect me.
People are surrounding the limo with Alto is guiding me out of the limo and pulling me through the entrance of the lodge. I’m walking as calmly as I can with his hand gripping my elbow. Someone jumps out at me from the corner and I scream.
My bodyguard has my head to his chest and his arm is wrapped around my back to hold me snuggly against him. I feel him push people out of the way until we are in the ski lodge.
Once we are in the lodge, Alto doesn’t stop until we are on the elevator. I lightly push out of his hold to look around the elevator. The last time I came here, there wasn’t a second-floor back then.
I see glass shards, flowers spread all over the entryway to my room at the ski lodge along with pictures of me photoshopped on dead bodies. My mouth drops to the ground.
“Why is this happening?” I mutter to Alto. “Why can’t he leave me alone?”
