A Diva in Manhattan: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance. Aubrie Dionne
As the crowd clapped, Brett walked off stage in a daze. He was going on a date with Alaina Amaldi, the unattainable vision of beauty he’d seen from the street only hours before. And she’d paid for it. In big bucks.
Had he died and gone to heaven?
Trying not to burst his own bubble, he reminded himself, again, that she thought he was Lance DeBarr, sole inheritor to the DeBarr fortune. Did his status really matter to her?
Brett plopped in his seat as Altez and Mrs. DeBarr came in and congratulated him for attaining the biggest donation of the night. Seeing Mrs. DeBarr happy made posing as her son worth every risk.
He brought Mrs. DeBarr aside. “What do you know about Alaina Amaldi?”
Mrs. DeBarr looked away as if she was afraid to tell him the truth. “Only that she’s the biggest diva who ever walked the stage of the Met.”
“Great.” He refused to believe her. The woman he’d met in the cocktail room had seemed like a lot of fun. Brett peered out the curtains to the audience. He was going to find out just what Alaina was looking for one way or the other.
Alaina leaned back in her seat in the audience, trying not to look too smug. Twenty thousand was like pennies to her. Thanks to the accounts her parents had set up for her future, she made more in interest every month.
Besides, it was for charity.
And anything was worth beating Bianca, no matter the cost. Not to mention she had the man of her choice, Lance DeBarr.
The auction ended with a few closing remarks. Afterwards, the audience mingled, congratulating each other on their winning bids. Alaina felt like queen of the universe as she cut through the crowd towards the backstage. She wanted to catch Lance before he left so they could solidify their plans.
A sly voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Just because you can buy your men doesn’t mean you’ll be able to buy your tenure here at the Met.” Bianca crumpled her auction number underneath her pink nails. Some people were just sore losers.
Alaina stifled the rising current of anger. So what if she had to buy a date? Bianca would have done the same thing. If she could have afforded it. “What do you care? Don’t you have a contract with some opera in Germany?”
“For now. But who knows what the future will bring, and I’m telling you, this place isn’t big enough for both our voices.”
Bianca and Alaina had been competing with each other ever since their Julliard days. She’d always claimed Alaina had bought her way into the school, while Bianca was there on scholarship. Maybe Alaina’s parents had the money to send her there, but that didn’t take away from the fact she was just as talented. You can buy a grand piano, but you couldn’t buy a world-class voice.
Right now, Alaina wished Bianca could buy some tact. “They’ll have to expand the stage, because I’m not going anywhere.”
She pushed by Bianca and slipped backstage.
Lance sat in a chair resting his hand in his hand, exhaustion clear in his slumped shoulders. Maybe he had a long day at work? Who knew all the numbers he had to crunch and all the graphs he had to interpret? Math always made her head spin, and she had no interest in the stock market, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to him.
Alaina took the seat beside him. “Long day?”
He glanced up and blinked in surprise. “You could say that.”
“I know what that’s like. I was supposed to be soaking in my bubble bath right about now.”
His eyes flicked over her dress as if he imagined her in the tub.
Alaina smiled and crossed her legs. She wished they were both there right now.
“Thanks, by the way.” His gaze delved deep into her eyes, making her blush.
“For what?”
“For saving my butt back there.”
Butt? For a New York stockbroker, he talked like an ordinary guy. He was so laid back. Alaina was always wound up, and his natural calm soothed her. “How?”
“From that woman in pink.”
Wow. He just shot up from hot to perfect in her eyes. Alaina played coy. “You mean you don’t like her?”
“She’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong. And I’m sure she’s great company. But, I didn’t want to listen to her asking about stock portfolios all night.”
Alaina laughed. Seems like Bianca tried too hard. “Well, you’re in luck, because I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in the stock market.”
He breathed with relief. “Then, I think we’re going to have a great time.”
Alaina shook her head, not knowing what to make of him. He was such a contradiction, wealthy yet modest, confident yet hesitant, sexy yet boyishly cute. Unlike most men, she couldn’t read what was on his mind, although she suspected she was in there, somewhere.
“So, when is this date going to be?” She used her conversational, ambivalent tone, trying not to sound too eager.
He shrugged. “Whenever you want. My shifts usually end around seven.”
“Shifts?”
“I mean, sometimes I work late at the…office.”
“Oh.” She hoped he wasn’t a workaholic. Gotta have time for those bubble baths.
He drummed his finger on the armrest of his chair. “So when are you free?”
“Let me see…” She was supposed to volunteer at Heart House tomorrow until three, and rehearsals didn’t start until the following night. “How about tomorrow night?”
“Sounds good.”
“How dressy should I be?”
He gave her a suggestive smile. “What you’re wearing now is nice.”
Boy did she like this guy. Alaina teased him with a little slap on the arm. “I can’t wear the same outfit two days in a row!”
His dark eyes sparkled. “I don’t mind.”
“I’ll find something similar.” Her mind went through every outfit she’d ever owned. Better raid the closet when she got home. “And where are we going?”
He raised both eyebrows. “That’s a secret.”
Alaina nodded. “Of course. You like keeping secrets?”
His face darkened. “No. As a matter of fact I don’t. But, this has to be special. You paid twenty thousand dollars after all.”
Good. Because she’d been burned by secrets before- like when her roommate on her Italian tour stole her guy. She’d brought herself to forgive her, but still, secrets were never good. “I’m sure you’ll make it worthwhile.”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“So you’ll pick me up?”
“Eight o’clock. I can pick you up here, or at your place. It’s up to you.
She figured he was safe. He was Mrs. DeBarr’s son after all. Everyone in the entire fundraiser knew they were going out. “My place. Paramount Tower – 240 East 39th Street. I’ll be in the lobby.”
His gaze widened as though he was impressed. Sure it was a nice place to live, but