Chapter 13 - The Grand Rehearsal
The week of the winter gala arrived with a blizzard that paralyzed half of Manhattan. Snow piled four feet high against the stone pillars of the Westbridge Opera House. Flights were canceled; Broadway shows went dark.
Yet inside the Westbridge auditorium, four thousand seats were completely sold out.
People had walked through freezing snowstorms, subway delays, and gale-force winds just to be there. The international press corps camped outside the grand entrance, their camera lenses frosted over, waiting for the doors to open.
Backstage, in the star dressing room that had once belonged to legendary maestros, Elena stood before the mirror.
She wore a gown of midnight-blue silk, elegant, austere, and breathtakingly powerful, with no glitter or unnecessary adornments—just pure, flawless line and form. Her silver watch remained strapped to her wrist.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” she said.
The door opened, and Dante walked in. He wore a custom midnight-black tuxedo, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his tie impeccably knotted. He held a small, silver-wrapped velvet box in his hand.
“The house is full,” Dante said quietly, walking toward her. “Every critic from London to Tokyo is sitting in the center orchestra section.”
“Are they?” Elena turned from the mirror, looking at him.
“They are.” Dante stopped in front of her, his dark eyes warm and steady. He opened the velvet box. Inside rested a vintage gold conductor’s baton, its handle engraved with delicate olive branches and a single date: The beginning.
“You won’t need this to command them,” Dante said softly, “but I wanted you to have it anyway.”
Elena looked down at the gold-embossed baton, then up into his eyes. For the first time since they had met three years ago across a pile of corporate paperwork, her professional armor completely melted away.
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“You bought out an antique store in Mayfair just to find this, didn't you?” she asked, a rare, genuine smile touching her lips.
“I have my sources,” Dante replied, his mouth curving into that subtle, familiar smile she loved so much. He lifted the baton from the box and placed it gently in her hand. “Now go out there and leave four thousand people breathless.”
