by A. Constanza
The musicians bowed after completing the piece, and Ignacio stood up to give them a handshake of gratitude. I followed his lead and vocalized my appreciation for their masterful work. The violinist and cellist informed me that they were students at the school, recently graduated, and were touched to have been a part of the arrangement.
They left, and Ignacio led me to the piano, and we sat on the bench, admiring the grandness of the instrument. My fingers danced on familiar keys, playing a simple melody that took months to create, and Ignacio built onto it without another thought.
“I’m so jealous of your ability to play,” I said.
“You’ll learn in no time. You just have to work with me.” He smiled.
“We’ll get back on it when we return to Italy.”
“Back at Emile’s house or do you feel comfortable enough to go in my piano room?” he teased.
I lightly nudged him. “I’ve seen your piano room—it’s okay. Emile’s piano room has more character.”
He wanted to be offended but couldn’t. “I can’t deny that.” He chuckled.
“There’s a difference between having a piano in a cottage and a piano in a mansion. The piano in a cottage is more inviting than a piano in a mansion.”
“I understand completely; it’s about the intimacy. Pianos communicate with you in a wordless language, and the closer the piano is to you in a small room, the more intimate the conversation sounds. That’s why I enjoy playing with you in general, being able to communicate with you in a more intimate setting.”
“Oh, you definitely nailed that Hot Composer title.”
“As long it makes you desire me even more,” he said with a smirk.
“You have no idea how much I desire you, Mr. Amatore.”
“How much?” he asked, leaning in slowly as his fingers ascended to the right of the piano, creating a chirpy cascade of notes.
I had kissed him before but sitting in front of him with his lips inches away from me, made my stomach turn into knots. I felt younger, like a teenager in love. Inexperienced, jittery, skittish. God, he turned me into a nervous schoolgirl. I knew he’d have this effect on me for years to come even when I wasn’t as young and beautiful.
I brush my lips against his, a surrendering sigh escaping them, and Ignacio pulled me in hard to melt his lips against mine. This felt rightfully heavenly with the cherubs floating in a circular formation on a starry night as they sang their hymns. My fingers laced onto the back of his head, craving his sensational touch.
“I’m deeply in love with you,” he whispered against my lips.
The pressure in my heart had exploded, and I realized a frenzy of butterflies escaped. “I love you too, Ignacio.” It was my first time saying it to him. Ignacio pressed his forehead against mine and then leaned in slowly to kiss me.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“I love you, Ignacio.”
“Again.”
“I love you,” I breathed out, watching him absorb my words.
“I’ll never get enough of those words.”
Ignacio faced the piano again, and his fingers played a dreamy interlude, and “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes” came to life.
“I love seeing you process,” he shared, looking at me as his fingers performed magic. “What are you thinking about?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “The fact that you pulled all of this off in a couple of days amazes me. You’ve done so much, especially the clothes and jewelry.”
“You deserve so much more than this.” He sighed. “I owe you a lifetime for the pain that I’ve put you through.”
“I’m past that,” I said. “It wasn’t ideal to wake up and see you gone, but you had a reason. You’ve shown me how remorseful you are, and honestly, you’ve gone above and beyond.” I placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Ignacio Amatore.”
Ignacio gave a cheerful, sweet smile, and it was all the love I would need from him. It extended from his eyes and into my soul. There was nothing else that I needed from him other than himself and his pure smile.
“My mom helped me pick your outfit.”
“Your mom? I thought you two weren’t on speaking terms.”
“We don’t really talk, but she asked me to meet her for lunch yesterday. It was uncomfortable in the beginning, but you came up in the conversation, and everything went smoother. She helped me with most of the date, really. We were together for hours, collaborating, talking, laughing; it was great. It was all I ever wanted from her.”
“I’m so happy for you. I’m so glad that you gave her that chance.”
“I’m happy, as well. She wants to meet you,” he said. “She wanted to meet tomorrow for dinner, but I know you’ll be busy preparing for your papa’s arrival. I told her that we’d be back in December, if you like. Christmas in New York is phenomenal; Castel Vecchio could never beat it.”
The happiness inside of me grew strong and fierce. I squeezed onto Ignacio’s arm and nodded excitedly. “I would love that—maybe a joint Christmas function? Oh my God, we would all be in the same room as your mom. That’s insane. I’ve never celebrated a special holiday with another person, let alone my family. We could have a potluck.”
Ignacio looked at me again with a loving smile and partook in my fantasy. “Our food blanketing a long buffet table, beautiful winter decor lining the penthouse’s floor-to-ceiling windows, Frank Sinatra playing in the background, and I’ll wistfully pull you into me, and we’ll dance in the living room.”
So, this is love.
And to end all the fascination and awe, leaving me in pure disbelief about the connection that we genuinely shared, Ignacio began to play “So This Is Love,” another Cinderella love song. I wasn’t sure what universal strings were being pulled for us, but I didn’t question it. This was most certainly love.
***
Ignacio had reservations for a rooftop restaurant, but I had asked if I could surprise him instead. He was taken aback and amused. He let me take the reins, and I knew exactly where to go for our outing. Or a rough idea.
Mr. Russo, Salem’s father, owned a restaurant and had friends who also owned a restaurant. A close friend of his named Julio owned a Mexican restaurant in Manhattan called La Cantina. I had been there once with Salem, as seniors in high school, and the food was beyond magical.
Ignacio asked me to order for him, to add to the surprise. I went with a taco box; it had everything that you needed in one carryout box.
“I think I have the perfect place for this,” he said, carrying the box for me.
We hailed a cab and headed toward his penthouse. The vibrant turquoise building was modern and like nothing I had ever seen in New York and located in NoHo—the most expensive city in NYC. Then again, Bond Street was filled with affluence and opulence.
“We are going to the rooftop,” he said, holding the door open.
The rooftop was maintained, but you could tell that no one really ever went up there. The outdoor furniture seemed to have never been touched by another person. It all looked new, despite the building being around for years.
We edged closer to the border, and I gripped onto the black railing, taking in the view of all the historic buildings, bright lights, and night sky. It felt like I had been taken out of my reality and plopped into a movie scene.
“This isn’t real,” I whispered.
“Very real,” Ignacio whispered in my ear, circling his arms around me as he hugged me from behind. “It’s even better when you have someone to share it with.”
And that’s exactly what we did. We sat on a bench that overlooked the city and chitchatted about our favorite memories as children whilst munching on our delicious tacos. An expensive rooftop restaurant couldn’t beat our casual, intimate moment.
And when I didn’t think the moment could get any better, it did.
Ignacio opened his blazer jacket and reached in, pulling out what looked to be a napk
in. He handed me the folded material and looked at me expectantly. I hovered the napkin over my lip, but he flinched and pulled my hand down. “No, no. Open it.”
“Open it?”
He nodded.
I opened the folded-over piece of napkin, and my eyes lingered over the drawing of a woman surrounded by musical instruments. It wasn’t any drawing; it was my drawing from five years ago. It was the doodle I had drawn as I sat alone in the booth, listening to the jazz group slowly finish their gig for the night.
“But, how?” I gasped. “You’ve kept it all this time?”
“I snuck it into my pocket when you weren’t looking. I thought it was pretty neat and always kept it in my desk drawer. I would look at it on certain nights…nights when I wished I could travel back in time and be with you.” His hand rose up to my cheek, and he touched me as if I could vanish from him.
“I suppose I really left an impression on you.”
“You have no idea, my star. You have no idea.”
A surge of emotions tugged at my throat. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me, it was the way I’d always wanted to be loved. He slowly leaned over, his eyes watching my lips attentively and then branding me. We’d kissed many times before this, but this seemed to solidify the moment. It said, “Here we are, Universe, back together again for good.”
***
There were no words to describe his penthouse. We walked through the grand entry that opened up to an entertainment space, and the living and dining room were adjacent with an abundance of art on the walls. The main attraction of the contemporary living room was the brown piano that glistened next to the lit fireplace.
I opened the door to his bedroom and there was another fireplace that instantly invited me to the room with its roaring fire and the black-grey marbling that created a nice contrast. The room was Scandinavian minimalism—what I had expected from Ignacio. He wasn’t an ostentatious man which I appreciated.
My feet were planted by the side of the bed, my hand grazed over the pressed, white sheets, and then it started to sink in that I had to tell him about my interaction with Romeo before anything else happened. It was either I do it tonight, or Adler would tell him in the morning.
“Estella, we don’t have to have sex. I know you’ve gone through a lot. I wanted to give you what you deserve. Don’t ever feel obligated to give me anything in return.” He pulled me into his chest, his arm circled my waist.
I laid my two hands flat on his chest and looked at him. “I need to tell you something.”
There was worry and confusion in his eyes. “Is everything okay? Was it all too much? Too little?”
I felt his heart pounding against his chest. “It was all perfect.”
Relief washed over him temporarily, but the longer I went without talking, the more he was ruminating on what I wanted to share.
“This is horrible timing, but I need to tell you. I had an interaction with Cesar’s best friend, Romeo.”
He tilted his head. “What kind of interaction?”
“He saw me coming out of the hair salon. He started an argument by singing a disgusting song and called me a bitch. I walked away, and he grabbed me.” Ignacio’s chest rose, and I patted him gently. “It’s okay. Adler came on time and scared him off.”
“Adler witnessed it and didn’t tell me?” Ignacio wasn’t taking it well.
“I told him I’d tell you, okay? Don’t be mad at him. He gave me until tonight.”
Ignacio’s eyes wandered around my face as if he were searching for something. His lips were pulled in tight like he wanted to talk to me, but didn’t.
I breathed deeply as my hands slid to the nook of his neck, and I gripped onto it as I lifted myself up to place a tender kiss on his lips. Ignacio’s hands found their way around my waist, and he held me tightly.
“Talk to me,” I whispered. “I’m sorry for ruining the night.”
“I can’t lose you, Estella,” he whispered back, fear lingering in his voice. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted in my life. You make everything so right. I’ve lost people, and it fucking hurts. I need you, and if something were to happen to you…” He closed his eyes tightly, and the tears that trickled down were enough to let me know what he wanted to say.
“Ignacio,” I cooed softly, wiping away his tear. “I love you. Nothing will happen to me.”
“Estella, you need to report them. They’re not afraid to harass you; they will not be afraid to do more harm to you.”
I wanted to protest, to tell him that they were ego-inflamed idiots and that they would let it go, only because I didn’t want to relive everything that happened in a court setting, but I had to let go of that fear. I had to look out for my future—our future.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” I promised. “Will you go with me?”
“Of course, my star,” he said, caressing my check.
“Why do you call me your star?” I asked, gently. Our bodies were so close, our lips two inches away from each other, our eyes locked, and our attention only on each other. This was intimacy.
“Have you ever gone out in nature on a dark, cold night after a bad day and looked up at the sky, noticed a bright star, and gazed at it with sheer amazement?” I nodded in response to his question. “Then doesn’t that star give you comfort, some joy for life, some spiritual alignment?” I nodded again, keeping the tears at bay. “Well, you’re that star for me.”
God, my heart could explode into a million pieces.
I wanted him. I wanted this. I wanted it all. The good, the bad, the ugly, the second chance of love.
“Thank you for not giving up on us,” I groaned as I took his mouth hungrily like a starved woman. Ignacio cupped my face, kissing me back as if I would evaporate into thin air at any second. Our tongues intertwined, lips intermingling, and our bodies wanting to be joined together, too. Ignacio’s mouth left my lips and trailed down my neck, kissing feverishly down until he reached my shoulders.
Ignacio spun me, slowly unzipped my dress, and I let it fall, exposing all my bare skin except the thin, black fabric that covered the area between my legs. He cupped my breasts as he soaked in my euphoric expression. I moaned at his burning touch and closed my eyes. We had longed and craved for this moment again, and the journey here had felt like an eternity, but I was glad we were here.
“I don’t want to go another day without you,” he said, his voice low and full of love. He shifted forward and sucked my erect nipple as his hands danced up my back. I gripped onto the back of his neck as his mouth explored my breasts. He made me come alive in more than one way. I caught a faint whiff of cologne that evoked all the early memories of our relationship. That night in Paris. Music. Intimacy. Sex.
I started to undress him, and he hastily finished the job. We moved onto his bed without hesitation, and I held his sculpted muscles in my hands, feeling his rock-hard erection underneath me, his hands exploring my body as if it was our first time again—it was all too intoxicating. I was on sensory overload; everything felt surreal.
“I need you,” I begged against his lips.
He gripped onto me as he positioned us near the edge of the bed and lifted me up to slip his cock under me. The lacy fabric had posed a nuisance to his manhood, but that didn’t stop him from getting what he wanted. Ignacio slipped the thin, silky fabric off, and I climbed back on his lap, sinking down onto his thick, long, and firm cock. Holy shit.
I was a quivering mess, simultaneously wrapping my legs around his waist and gripping his neck tightly. With the fire casting a glow behind me, I was able to stare into his inviting eyes as he pumped inside me with power. Ignacio traced the outline of my body and stopped at my thighs to grip on them. His fingers dug into my skin, imprinting himself onto me.
There wasn’t much hard thrusting; it was just the rocking of our hips, our bodies aligning with each other after so much turbulence. We kissed each other’s lips, chin, and neck as our hand
s explored each other. We were plunged into each other like a stellar collision—becoming one newer, brighter star.
THIRTY-TWO
Ignacio
Everything about Estella was addictive. Her voice, her personality, her body…Jesus. Last night might’ve been my third time having sex, but she showed me how sex was supposed to feel. She scorched herself into my veins, consuming every fiber of my being and marking me for life. I knew that my life began when I met Estella, and it had to end with her.
The sunrise acted as a curtain, a beautiful display of the sun blooming over the horizon. I looked over to the other side of the bed and watched Estella still lost in a deep slumber, her bare back exposed. I ran my fingers through her tousled waves and inhaled deeply.
This was all I wanted. I waited years for this moment again. She had never left my mind after the night in Paris, and I hated that I allowed my father to threaten me out of the country. How could a man in real estate possess that much power? I didn’t question it at the time because I was a scared twenty-four-year-old. He had the money, he had the power, and I had to abide.
“I won’t allow anyone to ever come between us again,” I whispered to Estella.
***
As it came closer to noon, I noticed Estella growing paler. We were going to the police station to put in a formal request for an order of protection. There was no doubt that she would receive one because of the harm he’d caused her months ago. Apparently, she had to shut down all her social media at some point because he would obsessively write to her. Easy win, but it wasn’t that easy at all for Estella.
“I can’t shake off the feeling of being the bad guy for asking you to do this,” I admitted, leaning toward her.
“I should’ve done this before I went to Italy,” she said quietly. “I figured that I didn’t need to do all of this because I’d be gone for a year and a lot can change in a year. I just didn’t want to relive everything…it hurts.” She folded her arms across her chest and pressed herself against me. I understood her completely.
