Authors Note: The rating has been upped for later chapters, and for you're information, the Liceu was a very famous Spanish Opera house in Barcelona. Instead of having managers, I believe the Societat de Propietaris owned it instead of managers. Hope this clears some things up. Reviews are welcome!
Edit: The best beta reader in the world, Ms. Connie Welsh, with a fine-toothed comb straightened some things out. Sorry for the double post . I'm impatient.
Carlotta gazed out of her carriage door window, disregarding the fact that her escort was constantly glancing at her chest. All of the escorts in the family were abhorrent perverts, but did their job while receiving a decent pay.
'Senorita?' Carlotta snapped out of her thought, setting her eyes to the rather bulk escort.
'Yes?' she slithered, brushing her black curls from her face. The escort nervously twirled his fingers around the fabric of his suit.
'Ah, well…' his voice trailed as his eyes glanced out his window, 'Pardon me, never mind.' Carlotta rolled her eyes. How strange this man was, how strange this whole trip had been.
You could tell an opera house was near; almost every building was either a flat, or a shopping stand. The Liceu was in a peculiar part of Barcelona, farther away from the wealthy part of town then most opera houses, but it was along the Las Ramblas, the busiest street in all of Barcelona. Carlotta grew anxious as the driver slowly rounded the main square, following many other carriages. Of course, every aristocrat and wealthy person in all of Barcelona was at this ball; flaunt your riches, show off a new husband, or simply catch up on old gossip. It was fundamental. Making one adjustment to her dress, she awaited for her driver to open the door.
Silence
Becoming impatient she glared at her escort, 'Go out and see why he is taking so long. I refuse to enter by myself.' The escort nodded quickly before climbing out the right side door, promptly closing it. A few muttered words later, she saw her door crack open and an unfamiliar man hold out his hand.
'Pardon senorita, we had a slight problem. The managers await.' How handsome and sophisticated his voice was, much more refined then a driver. She dashed away any doubts and placed her hand in his. She breathed in the thick, humid air, as she flaunted her best smile. Stepping onto the even pavement, she fluffed her ball gown and strutted onto the gaping crowd.
Carlotta heard her name uttered amongst the crowd; jealous women and exuberant men gawking at her. She waved to the crowd before being hustled inside the grand entrance.
And what a ball it was!
Every candle, every fire lit up the room as it glowed the soft hue of gold. Elaborate statues were polished to perfection, all of angels singing to the heavens above. Ivory steps gleamed as the soft hum of music rung loudly. A huge table, clad in crimson clothe gleamed with enough food to feed the whole city.
Carlotta cared not of the party, nor the absolutely dashing men, or even the delectable food.
'Where are those managers? Or, actually, which one of the Societat de Propietaris members can I charm?' Waltzing around, smiling to ever person who she even remotely heard of, her mouth became tired and her attitude no better.
Suddenly an idea struck her. Wherever the soprano was, her little entourage was not far behind. The soprano of the Liceu was easy to spot. A classic diva with a fiery Austrian accent. She traveled from Vienna, practically where Mozart thrived, to pursue her career, well, not without sleeping with a few men first. Maria was her name.
Around the bustle of dancers, she spotted the diva flirting with the rich patron of some opera house Carlotta did not care to know. Then she saw Adrian, the youngest and most mysterious of the managers, standing not three feet from the diva. Carlotta always had a suspicion that he fancied her a bit, but never confronted him.
This would be beyond perfect.
Smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown and causally standing at perfect posture, her chest prompted forward. She stood at the bottom the long ivory staircase, occasionally glancing at him, giving an enticing smile. He barely knew she was there. After a few more tries, she slumped over, stomping up the stairs madly. Lifting her skirts, she again gave him a few desirable looks and a sultry smile or two, still nothing. He was too involved with the diva to notice. Becoming heavily aware that flirting was not the answer. She sauntered to his side, glazing her eyes over the entire room.
He finally noticed her.
'Carlotta, it is odd seeing you here. I was almost certain you would be intently staring at some young patron,' he dryly smiled. His witty humor was more of a spark then to entertain.
'Seems the time we have been parted have not changed you Adrian. How does being twenty-one feel? You are quickly approaching the age of elders.' She too had that witty humor that never ceased to get a smile out of any naïve soul. Adrian turned to face her; his rather handsome features glowed under the soft candlelight. He had clean-shaven face with chestnut hair that grew in locks and curls atop his head. Crystal green eyes carried all of his emotions, as an aura of musty cologne lingered in the air around him.
He would be so very easy to charm.
'I wouldn't say elder, senorita.' He sipped his wine; the crimson liquid reached his lips being sucked in by his full lips. Carlotta intently stared, looking at every mannerism to see if alcohol and overcome him yet.
'So,' he said in a half whisper, 'how has my soprano been? Is your mother well?' He did not glance back, creating small talk that only filled the gap between the two of them.
'She is well,' Carlotta said simply, tooling with the edge of her bodice.
'Jesus Christ just ask him Carlotta!' She thrashed around herself, summing up words. With a silent breath she spoke.
'Dear Adrian, I'm sure you know my singing talents have been well trained since I last sung. The operas have been beckoning for my incredible talent, but Barcelona is my home and I would hate to leave it. So, if it was in your power, do you think you could-if it was permitted of course-to maybe get me an audition for a part in the next opera?' A little fib never hurt anyone, especially if it brought honor back to her family.
A long thick silence filled the air as he took a long sip of wine.
'That damned wine…'He looked as if he was going to speak, but paused his breath and took yet another sip of wine.
Carlotta's heart was going to break out of her chest if an answer was not said.
Adrian looked at her with those beautiful green eyes and smiled.
'I would make you the Prima Donna if I could.'
Utter shock overcame her. She didn't know whether to be ecstatic, confused, engrossed, or surprised.
'Thank you,' were all the words that slipped past her lips, a thousand thoughts tossing her mind. Adrian took her hand and gently kissed it, the sensation of his warm lips upon her skin overwhelming.
It suddenly seemed very warm.
Adrian's thin fingers wrapped around another glass of dark plum wine. She graciously took it, lifting it for a small toast.
'To success,' she said softly.
'To a new Prima Donna,' he softly knocked his glass to hers, the ringing sound lingering in her ears. She sipped the wine, noticing its odd taste.
'Its from Italy, aged for fifty years.' Adrian's voice went from a normal rough tone, to smooth, sultry tone. Carlotta continued to sip until the glass was done. He took it from her, glancing into her eyes.
'A dance?' He took her hand and gave a sensual gaze, a fire burning. She suddenly came to reality, partially, as the music suddenly turned into a soft trio of strings. The melody lulling in the thick air. She nodded as he swept her onto the ballroom floor. His hand melded into hers. Suddenly, she realized that they were swaying, yes, partially swaying, but mostly spinning. Carlotta didn't know how to dance, but that didn't seem to matter. Every elegant step was inline with the next, a truly harmonious dance.
She couldn't stop looking into his eyes those eyes said something. If only she knew.
All of the strings drained to the simple deep cello.
Carlotta felt trapped in a spell, each step leaving behind a slowly impression on her mind.
Adrian smirked, whispering softly into her ear.
'Remember this,' and then she faded to black.
Rebeca sat in the parlor, gazing into the dancing flames of the dimly lit fireplace. She wondered what her beloved daughter was doing.
'Flirting with a young patron I would only imagine,' she smiled warmly, thinking of her own youth.
Her youth was nothing like her daughter.
Filled with torment and betrayal, Rebeca only found success with her husband. The man she never saw. He was not a father to his children, nor a husband for his wife. He was a strict businessman who occasionally sent letters that Carmen nor Carlotta never saw. Only herself, and occasionally Luciana, the maid she trusted dearly.
'Pardon me Rebeca, but there is someone at the door who wishes to speak with you.' Rebeca turned her head to Luciana whose tone was rather dull.
'Did they state what they needed?' She was rather curious, and expected it to be a messenger sent by some royal family requesting that Carlotta be in their company, or something in that relevance.
'No,' she said idly. Sighing, the maid showed Rebeca to the door. It was almost bone chillingly quiet. Cracking the huge oak doors, there stood two men, looking rather official.
'May I help you-?' her words were cut short by a sharp pain in her neck, as if someone had stabbed her. She fell to the ground, taking one last look up at Luciana. She was crying.
I am horrible at cliffhangers, just a note.
