Page 34 of The Don's Prima Donna

She must be confused, wondering why I called for her anonymously after being out of her life since that first night. The decision to know of my father's dying state has left me hollow and craving her presence as a parched man who longs for water.

This is how I love her most - her singing, her performing, filling the void in my soul with her enchanting voice.

My father's untimely disease taught me life's too short to have regrets. Casting Tatiana aside from fears of my own will give me nothing but regret.

She stands there, radiant in a green vintage gown, the figure-flattering corset accentuating her curves and intricate lace detailing enhancing her beauty. Her hair hangs down her back, a beautiful fall. She hasn't tied it up. I want to crumble it within my fists and arch her neck towards me.

My body aches with the desire to take her right here, right now - to be the man I am destined to be and her the woman I desire. But I can't, not yet. Her voice takes precedence; everything else must wait.

"Philippe," she croons softly, her melodious voice pulling me deeper into the spell she weaves. I feel a shiver down my spine as her eyes meet mine, and it's as if she's chanting straight to my heart.

"Begin," I declare.

As she begins Lascia Ch'io Pianga, the beauty and enchantment of her voice wash over me like a soothing balm. She sings,"Lascia ch'io pianga, mia cruda sorte, e che sospiri la libertà," – Let me weep over my cruel fate, and let me sigh for freedom.

Tears stream down my face as the intensity of her voice reaches a crescendo, stirring memories of my mother's passing and the looming shadow of my father's imminent death. The pain wells up within me, threatening to drown me in its depths, but Tatiana's voice becomes my lifeline.

I weep for my past, my present situation and the fate that is in store for me. But all these tears come with the possibility of freedom with Tatiana.

As the music swells, I find myself wondering what life would be like if I wasn't involved in the mafia – if I could escape the shackles of this society and live freely, perhaps even with Tatiana by my side. Perhaps my mother would have been alive—my desire for a different path flickers within me like a flame desperate for oxygen.

As Tatiana continued to sing, my eyes remain locked on her, unable to look away even for a moment. Her presence on the stage is magnetic, and I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Each note that leaves her lips seems to wrap around my heart, soothing the pain of my past and present, if only temporarily.

I pour myself another glass of champagne without looking away from Tatiana and feel the cold of the liquid through the glass. The bubbles tickle my tongue as I take a sip, but the taste barely registers.

Every fiber of my being yearns to be closer to Tatiana, to hold her, and never let go. But for now, the music must suffice. It's a fleeting escape from reality, a chance to forget about the ever-present weight of my life within the mafia. A life of utter loneliness once Father passes.

Tatiana steals me from this wretched world.

As the crescendo of Lascia Ch'io Piangabuilds, Tatiana's voice reaches new heights, filling the theater with a power that sends shivers down my spine. I watch, entranced, as her body sways with the music, her gown shimmering under the stage lights.

The corset enhances the curve of her waist, drawing my eyes to the soft swell of her breasts above the neckline.

My hands grip the arms of my chair, knuckles white with the effort it takes to remain seated. I want nothing more than to take her in my arms, to lose myself in her embrace – but for now, her voice is my anchor.

As Tatiana reaches the climax of the song, her voice soaring like an angel's, our gazes lock, and the last haunting note of Lascia Ch'io Pianga fades into silence.

The silence that follows the end of Tatiana's aria feels almost sacred. The darkness hanging in the empty theater seems to hold its breath as if afraid to disturb the delicate echo of her heavenly voice. I blink away the tears that have gathered in my eyes.

"Bravissima," I whisper, my voice barely audible, even in the stillness that surrounds us.

"Philippe..." Tatiana's voice trembles, her gaze never leaving mine as she stands on the stage, bathed in a soft glow from the dimmed spotlights. She knows what I want, can sense the yearning that courses through every fiber of my being, and yet she waits, patient and poised, for me to make the next move.

"Encore, Tatiana," I say, the single word heavy with emotion, my hand reaching out towards her as if I could bridge the distance between us and draw her close. "Sing for me again."

Chapter 12

Tatiana

In Philippe's world, one thing is clear: the curtain never falls. I take yet another deep breath, blinded for a moment by the stage lights. My heart pounds as I gaze out at the empty seats. There's only one pair of eyes on me, and I want to bathe in their gaze for as long as this moment will last.

I get into position, take a deep breath, and let the first pure notes ring out for my next aria, my voice soaring through the opera hall's perfect acoustics.

"Sempre libera degg'io Folleggiar di gioia in gioia"–Always free, I must Revel in joy after joy. I give my all, holding nothing back, determined to move Philippe as I've never moved him before.

"Vo' che scorra il viver mio Pei sentieri del piacer,"–I want my life to flow Along the paths of pleasure.My voice swells withemotion, hovering on the edge of strain. I can feel the music vibrating through my entire body. This is what I was born to do.

Let him hear my soul laid bare, to hear what I'm thinking of, feeling, right now with him in front of me.

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