“My God, you are serious,” Parker said.
“Yes I am. If you say yes, you’ll definitely be my knight, even without any armor.”
“I’ll have to find something else to deserve that title. There’s no way I’ll sneak you out. You don’t feel well. Besides,” he leaned in, “didn’t they tell you never to get in a car with a stranger? You barely know me.”
“If I took advice of that kind, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. We can get to know each other later. Let’s go.”
“No chance.” He chuckled. “You look terrible.”
I suddenly became self-conscious, and turned my bandaged cheek away from him. Parker stopped laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Leaning in, he added, “You are very beautiful, you know that?”
We danced on that fine line between joking and flirting for the next few weeks. I saw him almost every day and—as he put it—we got to know each other. I liked being around him, talking to him. He patiently listened to me talking about my doubts about the upcoming interview at the museum where I am now working. I never shared those insecurities with anyone, not even Serena. But with him I didn’t feel the need to put up the shield of self-confidence I presented to the world. Though I generally had no troubles with interviews, I was worried about the one in London, since it was the job I wanted most. Parker listened to me and encouraged me. I’d dare say it felt like we were friends. Friends who desperately wanted each other.
Dani grins when I step back into the l
iving room. "You look gorgeous."
"I look like I belong in a porn movie," I correct her.
"A classy one." She chuckles. "Let me get something that will cover your cleavage. You can take it off once we are in the box, but I'm not sure you should flaunt it on the way there, or during the breaks." She disappears into her room and returns with a red cape that covers my shoulders and my cleavage. I stare in the mirror, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable in the dress. The fabric feels too expensive, the dress too elegant. Slutty elegant. Next to me, Dani couldn't feel more at ease. Of course she is. She's used to this.
"I can't wait to see Parker's face when he sees you," Dani says, her grin even wider.
I narrow my eyes.
"I saw the way he looks at you," she says knowingly. So her comment to Parker last night was on purpose. Looks like innocent Dani isn't as innocent as I thought. Good to know.
The cab drive to the opera is punctuated by a ton of questions from the driver who seems thrilled to have two Americans as passengers and has a special interest in California. I do most of the talking, enjoying hearing his British accent more than the conversation itself. I wonder when I’ll get over the whole accent thing. Dani isn’t half as taken with it as I am, but that’s probably because her mother is British.
When I step outside the cab, I’m momentarily stunned as I gaze at the Royal Opera House. The Roman Renaissance building is a dream for a former art and history student like me. I stare in awe at the columns above the entrance while following Dani, who walks in front of me with determined strides.
Judging by the few people in the lobby, I'm guessing Dani wasn't joking. We really are late.
"Finally," Parker calls, waiting for us a few feet from the entrance. I make a point not to meet his eyes as Dani and I give our coats to the woman in charge of the cloakroom. I steal glances at him, though. The suit he's wearing is more elegant than usual, a tux with a bow tie. He couldn't look hotter if he tried. Unless he was naked. Heat spreads through me as he catches my eye and the corner of his mouth lifts into a smile.
"White really suits you, Dani," Parker says.
"Thanks, it's my favorite color. I should have chosen a different color though," she says, running her palms on the sleeves of her dress. "If I had a white mask, I think I could channel the Phantom of the Opera."
Parker laughs, offering Dani his arm, but Dani shakes her head, saying, "You two go, I'll just grab the program and follow you."
He doesn't offer me his arm as we start walking, instead gestures to walk beside him. He stares at me, and I pull the cape tighter around my shoulders and low-cut neck. But even without any cleavage showing, the dress looks painfully obscene on me.
I'm for a low-cut neck and tight dress any day, but somehow a lavish cleavage doesn't seem to belong with expensive carpets and centuries-old walls. Dani catches up with us.
When we come to a stop, Parker opens the door to one of the boxes, then gestures for us to get in. Dani steps inside first, and when I attempt to follow her, Parker catches my arm.
"You look beautiful," he says in a low, hoarse voice that makes my toes curl and heat pool in the lower part of my body. I swallow hard, praying to all the saints and angels for my cheeks not to turn the color of ripe papaya. They do of course. There's no way for Parker to miss it. Just as he can't possibly miss the goose bumps that have formed on my arm.
“I feel exposed,” I whisper.
“Can’t say I enjoy the idea of others enjoying... the view,” he says, placing a finger on my chest, exactly at the point where the fabric of my dress meets my breasts, just like last night, as if he could guess where that damn point is even under the cape. Then he runs his finger down my hip and my thigh. I bite my lip.
Parker drops his hand, and I step inside and find Dani seated in one of the four velvet-covered chairs, arranged in two rows. She's in the front row, and I slump into one of the seats in the second row, hoping Parker will take the cue and sit in front with Dani, and not next to me.
"I'll be back in a minute," Parker calls to Dani and me.
"Coming here was a bad idea," I tell Dani, crossing my legs. I feel like I’m going to climb Parker any second now. That is, if he doesn’t climb me first.