*  *  * Tomas

There. That did it.

The second I erased that ridiculous list from her phone, I knew that’s what Luciana needed to see so that she would know I was serious about her.

But there was another reason I erased that list.

If she had the contact details for any of those bastards next to their names, I would’ve emailed myself the list, found each of them, and punished them for causing that strong, fierce, beautiful woman any harm or sadness. I would’ve done it until they begged me for mercy. And even then, I probably wouldn’t stop.

I watched in wonderment as she explained to list to me, confused because I wondered why she needed to create the list at all. She doesn’t see herself the way I do.

Zaftig.

I shake my head when I think about her calling herself that.

Luciana really is curvy, despite her protests. I love her long, thick, flowing blonde hair that has the color of warm honey. Her blue eyes are always so bright and full of life, and that’s what I want, what I need. I want to be alive again. After what I’ve been through, I want to have a life full of laughter and happiness, and if she lets me, a life of hearing the “f” word on a daily basis.

CHAPTER THREE

Northern Italy

Present day

And you did, didn’t you? You did remind me.”

My husband smiles back at me quickly before focusing again on the road ahead. “Yes, my love, I did remind you every time. Especially that night of the benefit at Davison’s parents’ house. You looked so beautiful in that yellow silk gown. It took every ounce of strength I had not to drag you into a closet and have my way with you.”

I soften at his admission. “You never told me that before.”

“I’m telling you now,” he replies with a wink.

I take Tomas’s hand that’s holding mine and kiss the back of it. “Ano. Dekuji,” I say yes and thank him in his native Czech. “It definitely eases the memory of the rest of that night. I still cringe every time I think of Allegra lying on those stairs. But you saved the day that night, you know.”

“How could I save the day if it happened that night?”

I can’t help but laugh in amusement. He’s still learning. “When a person saves the day, it means that something happened that solved a problem. And in your case, it helped Allegra understand how Davison really felt about her. That was also the night something else happened.”

A knowing grin comes over Tomas’s gorgeous face. “That I shall never forget.”

*  *  * Lucy

The home of Mr. & Mrs. Hartwell Berkeley

7 Sutton Square

New York, NY

Six years ago

I sit frozen in the gold-backed chair in the Berkeley ballroom, along with the other guests. I’m mesmerized. All other thoughts escape my mind. I had absolutely no idea.

Tomas’s voice is pure male strength. It is virile. It is alive. It is a force. It draws me to him and makes me want to know everything about this man, this man who I thought at first was an annoyance, like a buzzing bee that won’t stop whirring around your head no matter how many times you swat at it.

The control he has over “Nessun dorma,” Pavarotti’s signature aria, is commanding. He makes you take notice of him. He makes you understand the lyrics, despite the words being in Italian, because of his gestures and the way he makes you pay attention to him with those penetrating blue eyes of his.

And then he hits those three last lines, singing Puccini’s lyrics about the hero, Calaf, knowing that he will triumph and win the heart of Princess Turandot, the lyrics with the high C that no tenor has ever come close to nailing as perfectly as Pavarotti.

Until now.

Tomas Novotny owned it. He made those lines his bitch.

The entire room of privileged blue bloods is on its feet applauding wildly. I rise from my chair along with the others as tears fall from my eyes, my entire body covered in goose bumps.

He bows graciously to the crowd, placing his hand over heart as a sign of gratitude, then turning to Derek, our accompanist, repeating the same gesture.

I’m not the swooning type, but I can’t help myself. He’s so gallant. Such a gentleman.

It’s been two weeks since I ran into him in the cafeteria. After he erased the Loser List from my phone, he texted me that night to ensure I hadn’t re-created it and to prove it to him, he asked me to meet him for coffee the next day. I showed him my phone, then a huge smile appeared across his face. That weekend I met him at his apartment in Queens, and he took me out to brunch at his favorite Czech restaurant in Astoria.

He’s playing it cool with me, and I’m fine with that. I’m being cautious as well, but with every gesture, he inches closer and closer to winning me over. He opens the door for me, he stands up when I leave or return to our table, and when I met him at the subway station, he presented me with one single red rose.

No man I dated before did any of those things for me. I like being with him because he treats me like a woman deserves to be treated. He makes me laugh, and at the same time he gets under my skin because he challenges me, but that makes me want him even more.

I feel like I could truly fall in love with him, but I’m not giving in to my feelings yet, as much as I just want to jump him and kiss him until all my oxygen is depleted. But he hasn’t made a move yet either, which I found disconcerting at first, but now I’m almost glad we haven’t kissed because that would just completely change everything. For now, the handholding, the deep stares with his eyes, and the feeling of his chest, The Wall, against mine when he hugs me will tide me over.

As Tomas approaches me, his seat being next to mine, my throat suddenly grows parched and I cannot regain any train of thought. When he finally reaches our row, we simply stare at each other. Without realizing I’m even doing it, I reach for his hands and tightly grip them in mine. We just gaze at each other, no words ever being exchanged.

It is that moment when Mrs. Berkeley’s voice pierces our intimate bubble. “Bravo, Tomas. Thank you for that stirring rendition of ‘Nessun dorma.’ And now, Allegra returns to join our other soprano this evening, Luciana Gibbons, for the ‘Flower Duet’ from Delibes’ opera, Lakmé, which I’m sure all of you will recognize. Ladies, if you please.”

Amid all the welcoming applause, Tomas quickly leans in to whisper something to me. “I forgot to tell you something, Luciana.”

“What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

A wave of warmth envelops me as Tomas swiftly runs his lips over my cheek. Electric sparks ignite every nerve ending in my body, and my core clenches at his gentle caress, giving me just a hint of what I hope will eventually happen between us—his chiseled lips over mine finally giving me the kiss I’ve been waiting for. The anticipation slays me when I think about it, but I can wait. I’ve waited this long to meet someone like him, so I’ll remain patient. I give him a wide smile, then walk the few steps to the front of the room, joining Allegra at the other microphone.

We begin to sing, and I notice some faces registering an “Oh, that song” look because they remember it from that old British Airways commercial.

Allegra and I are both in the zone, totally in sync with each other. But then I notice something on the screen behind her shoulder that’s not displaying the Gotham Conservatory logo anymore like it was before. Instead, it’s showing old photos of a mother and her child, and then old newspaper clippings, and then…

Oh fuck.

It’s the picture of Allegra as a five-year-old being carried to safety by a police officer from the NYPD after they’d found her. She’d been hiding for days after seeing her mother murdered in front of her. I’m the only person besides her father who knows who Allegra is. She changed her name after the event and has never told anyone what happened to her.