Page 11
My beacon of light
I wake up from a dead sleep to the brilliance of the morning sun shining through my window.
I’m sad to discover that Gwen has already left, but I spot a note on the counter.
New Year, new possibilities
Love you tons Sophie!
I smile when I read it, then glance at the white gown sitting on the hanger. It reminds me of last night’s party, but the elegant event feels like a distant dream.
As I run my fingers over the jewel beading on the dress, it dawns on me that I never found out who the mysterious hosts were.
Hearing a ping on my phone, I wonder if Gwen can read my mind and run to check.
The moment I see Noah’s name on the text, I struggle to breathe. I have zero interest in anything he has to say, so I immediately block him from my phone.
I just want to forget the four months I wasted on him, but all those emotions come bubbling back. I return to my bedroom and bury myself under the covers, needing a long cry.
But the release of tears never comes…
Instead, I’m hit with a vivid memory when I was four. I’m dancing and twirling in the living room to Chopin’s piano concerto “Grande Valse Brillante Op.18” while my daddy cheers me on. “You’re a natural dancer, Sophie girl!”
I never danced again after his death.
I miss you, Daddy.
I spend the day tormented by memories of him and our life as a family, before he was ripped from us in a fiery car crash…
It leaves me drained and emotionally numb.
Not wanting to waste any more time feeling sorry for myself, I decide to increase my workload by calling several students who have been on my waiting list. The next evening, on my way to meet one of the new students and her parents, my car begins to act up.
I groan when I look in the rearview mirror and see black smoke billowing from the tailpipe.
“Please don’t leave me stranded. Please don’t leave me stranded…” I beg.
Despite my pleas, my car gives up the ghost five blocks later. Gasping its final breath, I only have enough time to pull to the curb in a no-parking zone. As soon as I get out of the car to open the hood, a man shouts from his porch, “You can’t park here, lady!”
“I know,” I shout back. “Can’t you see my car just died?”
He waves his hand indifferently and disappears inside. With the snow falling heavily now, I pop the hood and am hit by a cloud of black smoke. I stare at the engine for a while, feeling foolish since I don’t know anything about cars.
Leaving the hood up so passersby know I’m in distress, I start to fume. This isn’t just going to be a hit to my pocketbook but my entire livelihood.
I need my car!
Standing beside it, I contemplate how to handle this crisis when a taxi passes too close and showers me in dirty road slush. I gasp when the frozen slurry soaks my clothes.
Screaming at the universe, I cry out in frustration, “Fuck you!”
Being stranded in the posh area near Central Park—in a no-parking zone, no less—I know I have to find a reputable tow truck as quickly as possible.
Cursing my crappy luck, I grab my purse from the car. I start walking in drenched boots to the closest gas station, desperate to get out of the cold.
I call every tow truck service nearby in a race to arrange one before I get hit with an outrageous parking ticket, but none are available. When I look up at the rapidly falling snow, I notice the Luxe Escape’s brilliant light calling to me in the storm.
It’s like a beacon of hope.
Deciding that a gourmet meal is just what I need, I change direction and head toward it. A woman on a mission, I trudge through the hard-driving snow at record speed. By the time I reach the hotel, I’m gasping for breath and hungry for a great meal.
The doorman greets me at the entrance with a smile as he opens the door. “Welcome to the Luxe Escape.” As I pass him, I feel certain he was one of the staff members clapping for me on the red carpet a few days ago. But in my current state, there’s no way anyone would recognize me.
Stepping inside, I feel as if I’ve been transported to a magical paradise. The massive dragon sits proudly in front of me, glimmering behind the cascade of water as it watches me approach. It’s even more majestic than I remember.
My stomach growls loudly as soon as I catch a whiff of enticing aromas coming from the restaurant. I follow the scent, filled with excitement because the international cuisine of The Black Drakon has created quite a buzz on social media since the restaurant’s opening.
I’m not surprised when I see it’s packed tonight, but figure as a lone diner they can squeeze me in. Walking up to the maitre d’ with my best smile, I ask, “How long is the wait for a table?”
“Do you have a reservation?”
“No, but it’s just me tonight.” My stomach growls again, and I blush.
The maitre d’ gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, but we are completely booked for the next six months.”
“But you just opened New Year’s Day!”
She smiles, stating with pride, “Yes, the food speaks for itself.”
Impressed but disappointed, I sigh. “Maybe another time, then.”
“Would you like me to make a reservation for you?”
Starting to get hangry by this point, I struggle to keep my composure. “No. But thank you for asking.”
Unwilling to concede defeat, I head straight to the front desk to secure a hotel room. That way, I can order from the restaurant and have it delivered to my room. The gentleman at the desk greets me warmly, “Welcome to the Luxe Escape. How may I be of service?”
His charming demeanor instantly puts me at ease. “I know it’s late, but I’m crossing my fingers you have a room for the night.”
“Unfortunately, we’re completely booked. However, I’d be happy to check for any last-minute cancellations.” I notice a glint in his eyes when he asks, “Are you interested in a standard stay or a more structured experience?”
I’m intrigued by the question and can’t even begin to imagine what kind of “structured experiences” they offer. But sadly, as a piano teacher with a broken car, I’m not in a position to find out. “Standard, please. A king would be great.”
He nods and checks his computer screen, then looks at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing available tonight.”
I swallow down my frustration, remembering to thank him for his time. Leaving the front desk, I wander to a secluded seating area in the lobby. Anxious about my car, I start systematically calling every tow service in Manhattan. Just when I’m ready to give up, I finally hear the words I’ve been waiting for.
“Yes, ma’am! We can have a truck there in an hour.”
“Thank you!” I cry out in relief.
After securing the tow truck, I settle back into the comfortable lounge chair for a few minutes, setting my phone on the cushioned arm. Staring up at the huge dragon while listening to the soothing sound of the cascading water, I have an overwhelming sense of peace…
I’m startled awake by the sound of a metal door swinging closed. I instinctively turn toward the sound to see a bare-chested man with chiseled muscles walking through the lobby barefoot in only his sweatpants.
It’s obvious that he’s just come from working out at the hotel gym, but I notice he’s being followed closely by an imposing individual dressed in a dark suit. I assume it must be his bodyguard.
My eyes are drawn to the large dragon tattoo on the man’s bare shoulder. But the moment I notice him turning his head in my direction, I quickly glance at my phone. I don’t want to be caught gawking.
I gasp when I notice the time on my phone and see it’s past midnight!
“Miss Lane, this is quite a surprise.”
My heart skips a beat when I recognize his distinctive accent, and glance up to see the same gentleman who escorted me into the hotel on New Year’s Eve.
Knowing that I shouldn’t be here at this late hour, I hastily explain, “I was waiting for a tow truck, but…I must have fallen asleep.”
He tilts his head. “Where’s your vehicle?”
“About a fifteen-minute walk from here. The tow truck was supposed to call me when they were near, but…” I glance at my phone messages and frown. “It looks like they never called.”
“Maxim, see to the car,” he orders.
“Yes, Gospodin,” the bodyguard replies, then turns to me. “I’ll need your car key, Miss Lane.”
I hastily dig through my purse for the key, while I give him the cross streets where my car broke down. While I watch the bodyguard walk away, I become acutely aware of the bare-chested gentleman standing beside me.
Trying hard not to stare at his ripped muscles, I turn to thank him. “I can’t express how much I appreciate your help.”
“Think nothing of it.”
I’d forgotten how potent this man’s energy was. Just standing next to him—his body glistening with sweat after working out—I can feel myself getting lightheaded.
My curiosity to know more about the man drives me to be bolder than usual, and I reach out my hand. “My name is Sophie.”
My stomach growls painfully when he clasps my hand, and I silently pray he didn’t hear it. But I note a glint of amusement in his eyes when he shakes my hand. “I was told you have an interest in my piano, Sophie.”
I audibly gasp. “ You own the ‘Pictures at an Exhibition?’”
“I do.” He raises an eyebrow. “Would you like to play it?”
“I…I would love nothing more,” I answer breathlessly.
“Excellent. I have to fly out shortly, but I’ll have one of the staff escort you up once I’m showered and dressed.”
I simply nod, unable to believe my good luck.
I’m both embarrassed and grateful when I overhear him tell the front desk while walking to the elevator, “Get Raquel to whip up something quick from the kitchen for the lady while she waits.”