Chapter 18

Anthony

M aestro Alamilla continued to be an enormous pain in the ass, but in the wake of what Anthony had survived, he couldn't seem to stay angry at the man. He felt sorry for his co-star Adrijana. The language barrier had exacerbated the conductor's martinet attitude, and he was constantly correcting and belittling her. Anthony made a point of giving her encouraging smiles whenever they sang together. She seemed grateful, and her perseverance in the face of all the criticism was impressive.

Three major events enabled Anthony to let the Maestro's abuse roll off shoulders. His upcoming debut in New York. His deepening affection for Freddie. And his newfound friendship with his dresser, Gabriela.

She was an absolute delight. Thank God she spoke English so well. That meant she could gossip, and she was great at it. He'd had a costume fitting after a particularly frustrating rehearsal with the Maestro, and she'd validated his complaints about him.

" Gilipollas! " she shouted. "He was always bad, but ever since his chorus boy fiancé broke up with him last year, he's been a monster."

"Oh, do tell." This was the kind of thing Anthony loved.

Gabriela bent to help the costume designer tie up Anthony's boots. They were made of worn leather and had a surprisingly high heel. "Everyone says Rafael left because the Maestro couldn't…um, what's the English? Get it up?"

Anthony giggled. The costume designer Ignacio, a fey, elderly Spaniard in a pinstripe suit, shot Gabriela a murderous look, but she just rolled her eyes.

"He doesn't have any English," she whispered, tilting her head toward the old man, "so don't worry. He can't understand you."

"How old is Rafael? Maestro Alamilla must be sixty-five."

"Rafael got the job right after university. The Maestro was a guest instructor there. And he isn't sixty-five. He is seventy-five."

"Holy shit!" The costume designer slipped a white fabric belt around his waist, closing the burnished silver buckle. "To each their own, but that's quite the age gap."

"It was a tremendous scandal among the choristers." Gabriela winked and smiled. Anthony loved how much she loved drama.

"I'd imagine."

Ignacio stepped back from Anthony, gesturing dismissively. Anthony checked himself out in the mirror.

"You're dashing." Gabriela squinted, reaching out to the back of his neck. "But do you think maybe the collar…"

"It needs to be tighter, yes!" Anthony grinned. He was finally working with someone who knew an inkling about style. "And the jacket wants a brighter lining." He glanced at Ignacio, who looked on, stone-faced. "Will you tell him?"

"Of course."

Gabriela and Ignacio proceeded to have a heated argument in Spanish. Although Anthony understood little of it, Gabriela was a tiger. The old man didn't stand a chance. Eventually, he threw up his hands and walked away, one end of his measuring tape trailing behind him.

"Is everything okay?" Anthony asked.

"He's mad, but he'll do what I say. Everyone does."

"Ooh, I like you." Anthony smiled, then squinted at Gabriela. "Never use that on me."

In the days leading up to opening, Gabriela and Anthony became inseparable. She was good at her job, methodical and calm, as well as being an inveterate gossip. With Gabriela and Freddie by his side, Anthony was unfazed by the Maestro's criticism. In fact, he was more confident than he ever had been.

Opening night came soon enough, and when the curtain rose on the first scene, a thrill of excitement rushed through Anthony unlike anything he'd experienced since his early days as a young artist. Opera La Rambla was full, hundreds of eager faces surrounded by lush velvet and gold-plated furnishings.

Freddie sat in the front row, dapper as all hell in a tailored black tuxedo, towering over the little old ladies on either side of him.

This was new. Anthony had someone there who supported him, who loved his art and his talent not because he was a rising star, but because Freddie loved him , warts and all.

Was that right? Did Freddie love him? This whole mate thing was confusing. On the one hand, it was like something out of an old romantic movie, as if an army of violins could come on at any time to underscore the big moments of their relationship. On the other hand, did Freddie even get a choice? Would he have wanted to be with Anthony without it? Anthony hoped so, but he wasn't sure.

He thought Freddie loved him. He knew Freddie would always protect him, that he would always be there for him. Did he love Freddie?

He felt something , something that he'd never experienced before. A longing and a need, but without the desperate heaviness of youthful infatuation. This was light and buoyant. Anthony didn't worry about Freddie's devotion waning. He knew it wouldn't.

He took a deep breath, grounding himself, and sang.

"Piano, pianissimo, senza parlar, tutti con me venite qua."

He tried not to look out at his mate, but he couldn't help himself. At the sound of his voice, Freddie's eyes sprang to life with adoration. Happy tingles spread through Anthony's stomach. With some effort, he wrenched his gaze away from Freddie's perfect face. He had an opera to sing!

The performance flew by in a whirlwind of music and applause. Despite his assholery, the Maestro was an excellent conductor, and Anthony felt the company and the orchestra fall into sync, breathing as one and spinning out gorgeous sound. The ovation at the curtain call lasted for ten minutes, and Freddie was the first to his feet.

After changing clothes and squeezing in a quick makeout session in his dressing room, Anthony walked into the opening night party with Freddie on his arm. Everyone's eyes went to them.

"They're all looking," Freddie whispered in Anthony's ear. "You're a big star. You shouldn't be with a bodyguard. You should date someone impressive."

Anthony turned to his vampire, seeing an uncharacteristic self-consciousness on Freddie's face. He kissed him on the cheek.

"They're staring because we're sexy as hell," Anthony whispered. "And you're not a bodyguard. You're the head of security for Hughes International. You are impressive."

Freddie didn't seem convinced. Anthony squeezed his arm and led him into the fray. Several of the elderly donors rushed over to Anthony, gushing over his performance. Most of them gave Freddie a once over and ignored him, but Anthony made a point to introduce him to everyone. Freddie looked uncomfortable, but Anthony understood that this was a bandage they had to rip off. Dating Anthony meant having to play trophy husband on occasion.

Of course, Anthony knew Freddie wasn't the sparkling conversation type, but that was okay. Anthony could do that. He appreciated Freddie's broody silence. He didn't need to say more, he just needed to find his confidence.

After a few exchanges, Freddie settled in. Once he understood all he had to do was play the heavy, he took to it eagerly. After a few minutes of boring small talk with some elderly millionaire, Freddie would glare, and then the person would make an excuse and leave. It was an excellent system.

An older woman in a black Chanel suit approached them, speaking in accented but grammatically perfect English. Gold rings covered her fingers, and her silver hair was perfectly coiffed.

"Antonio, what a triumph!" She spoke a little too loud, as if she were performing for the whole room. "You and Adrijana were brilliant. I suppose it was nice to have a hometown Figaro as well. I pray we can lure you back here next season."

"Thank you for that, Se?ora…"

"Martí. Nuria Martí. I'm the president of the board for Opera La Rambla. And the company's largest donor." The woman winked at Anthony. There was something predatory about it that made Anthony uneasy.

"I'm also a high-ranking senator in the Cortes Generales," she continued. "My connections in the government enable much of what happens here at the opera."

"That's incredible." Anthony glanced at Freddie, whose face was inscrutable. "This is my partner, Frederick. He works in security."

"Ah, yes, the bodyguard I've heard about." Se?ora Martí leaned in, talking in a stage whisper. "You should find someone more suitable for your career, querida ."

Anthony blinked in confusion. One thing he'd learned from working in different countries was that sometimes folks were more direct than appropriate when speaking a language other than their own. He hoped she was just being accidentally tactless.

"I—"

"It's no fun, but relationships aren't just about romance. Who you date is a business decision, sweetheart."

"Listen, Se?ora Martí." Freddie's voice was a rough growl. "Anthony—"

"You are very tall, which is nice. But Anthony is smarter and savvier than you. He has a bright future ahead, and you will only hold him back." The older woman plastered on a disingenuous smile. "Take it from someone who can make or break his career."

Freddie didn't reply, clearly flummoxed. Anthony was confused. Why was she threatening him? Was it that important for her to throw around her influence? Why would she care who he dated?

An aggressive female voice speaking rapidly in Spanish broke the tense silence. It was Gabriela, and from all appearances, she was ripping Nuria Martí a new asshole. She stood in a stunning black gown, bedecked in sequins, with her hands on her hips. Se?ora Martí had a dazed look on her face at the unexpected assault.

When Gabriela stopped speaking, Se?ora Martí's eyes were searching for the exit. With a sharp movement of her head, Gabriela indicated that the older woman should speak to Anthony and Freddie.

The board president took a deep breath. "My apologies. Gabriela has informed me I have spoken out of turn. I did not intend to offend."

"Uh, it's okay—"

Gabriela cut Anthony off. "I'm sure Se?ora Martí has many duties to attend to right now, considering the importance of her position."

The older woman nodded and rushed away, making a beeline for the powder room.

"Thank you, cara ," Anthony said. "I didn't know how to handle that. Will she give you trouble?"

"Not a chance," Gabriela answered. "I've dealt with her before. She's always been that way. She thinks she knows what's best for everyone, even strangers, and she likes to throw her political weight around."

"I'm not sure why she would care."

"She doesn't, not really. It's part of her evening's entertainment. Luckily, she's a bit of a coward, and she knows she can't do anything to me."

Anthony was about to make another comment when he realized Freddie hadn't said a word. He turned to his handsome mate.

"Freddie?"

"She's right. You are smarter than me. I'm not good with people."

"That's just not true. You're smart, and you're good with the people that matter. You're good with me."

Freddie shook his head. "You deserve better."

"The hell I do." Anthony looked up at Freddie, taking his face in his hands. "You are what I want. I can be shallow enough for the both of us. Who cares what some wealthy fossil says?"

Freddie didn't say anything. His jaw clenched and his lips pressed together tightly. Anthony did his best to project how much he cared for Freddie through his eyes.

"You are the one that's important to me," Anthony said. "Don't doubt yourself."

"He's right, querida ." Gabriela's smooth voice broke the intimacy of the moment, but Anthony didn't mind. "The more famous Antonio gets, the more people will monopolize his time. Don't change who you are. Having a scary bodyguard boyfriend is an advantage."

Freddie looked at Gabriela, then shrugged. Maybe hearing that from someone other than Anthony had broken through his self-judgment a little. "I guess."

"I promise you it is true."

"You are fantastic!" Anthony said. Gabriela was a master of these petty social games. "What are you doing after we close? You should come to New York with me."

"They expect me here to work on La Sonnambula . God, I hate that one."

"Whatever they're paying you, I'll beat it. All the big stars travel with their personal dresser, but I've never found anyone that I clicked with. You're perfect."

Gabriela thought for a moment and flashed a wide smile.

"I would love to."