The Love Of Money - S02 E150

Story 4 months ago

The Love Of Money - S02 E150

Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 150

The audience clapped as a man strode out onto the stage. He stopped midway, turned, and bowed before stepping into a small alcove at the bottom of the stage. The applause dwindled, then died. Silence.

And then the music began.

It started low—a chorus of strings, notes felt almost more than heard. Mournful, aching, as if mourning the death of someone. Then the higher-pitched instruments joined, weaving in a fragile strand of hope.

I’d never been particularly interested in this kind of music, but as the orchestra built, each instrument adding its voice to the stream of sound washing over us, I could feel the beauty. Or rather—hear it.

I wasn’t the only one. As the first piece swelled, I glanced at Natalie. A smile curved her lips, her eyes closed as she soaked in the beauty of something she loved. And as she did that, I soaked her in.

Nearly an hour passed, full of highs and lows, ebbs and flows. More than once, I caught tears shining in Natalie’s eyes. But it wasn’t all sad appreciation. Sometimes she caught me staring, and every time she rewarded me with a pleased smile. At one point, she lay her head on my shoulder. Halfway through the first part, she rested her hand on my thigh and never moved it.

I might have gotten bored, but watching Natalie enjoy something so deeply fascinated me.

Eventually, the intermission was called. We stood with the guests below and stretched. The door opened, and Simon appeared, waiting.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked.

“Oh my gosh,” Natalie breathed. “It’s so beautiful!”

Simon led us through a short hallway, past the milling crowd taking their twenty-minute break for champagne or snacks. I noticed Natalie eyeing the bar as we passed, but I held her hand and followed Simon, who brought us into another private room as refined as the first.

This one was decorated in crimson cloths accented with dark wood. A table sat in the middle with a bucket of ice chilling a bottle of champagne. Next to it, a small tray held an array of rich-looking finger foods.

“Enjoy the intermission,” Simon said. “I’ll come and retrieve you in fifteen minutes.” He closed the door behind him.

Natalie looked around, astonished, running her hand over the expensive fabrics as she approached the champagne. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Well,” I said, “I can’t exactly have my date standing in line, waiting for a glass of cheap champagne, now can I?”

Natalie looked at me, her eyes lingering as she studied me. She chewed on the inside of her cheek—a very Natalie thing to do.

“Do you do this often?”

“Do what often?” I asked.

“This.” She touched the neck of the champagne bottle. “The grand gestures.”

My immediate reaction was to feel a little hurt. I knew what she was getting at—asking how many women I’d swept off their feet just to get into their pants.

It was a fair question. I’d already been honest with her about my sleeping around. I’d told her I didn’t want to stop. With as much money as I had, it made sense that she’d assume this was my modus operandi. I hated that her mind went there, but I couldn’t blame her.

“None,” I said.

She gave me a skeptical frown.

“I’m serious. I mean, I’ve done some crazy things in the last month or so. The craziest was probably paying to have the Louvre closed down for a private tour. It was spur of the moment, and not even really my idea.”

Natalie still studied me, her fingers playing with the delicate foil around the champagne bottle.

“I’m being honest with you, Nat. I’ve done things—but this?” I gestured to the room. “Putting actual thought into what you might like, based on what I know about you? This is a first.”

Natalie lowered her eyes to the champagne. “You’re so different from him.”

I didn’t need clarification. I knew exactly who she meant.

“He had so much money,” she continued. “He bought me things. He took me places, but they were always places he wanted to go. I just went along for the ride. He was charming enough—”

She looked up at me suddenly, eyes wide and guilty. “I’m sorry! I probably shouldn’t be talking about him.”

“No,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”

Natalie shrugged and looked back down. “He… started saying things.” She smoothed her dress, not meeting my eyes. “When I first saw this one, it triggered me a little. He’d make comments about my clothes, about how I did my makeup. At first I brushed it off, but the more he said them, the more they hurt.”

She finally looked up again, apology shining in her eyes. “He liked grand gestures. I think he thought they made up for the rest of it.”

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” I said. My voice was low, rough. “If my brother were here right now, I’d eat his fucking heart.”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I almost accused you of something. I’m sorry I fell for him.”

“Don’t be. It gave me time to change. Time to understand more of what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

The look in her eyes was equal parts genuine curiosity and something hungrier—something I’d seen often in women lately. She had bared herself, laid her shame and regret in my hands, and I hadn’t judged her. Now that she’d done that, she wanted to see if she was worth being pursued. It was a type of reassurance.

Old Marcus would have jumped on that.

I leaned back against the door, arms crossed. “I told you what I want last night. What do you want?”

Natalie looked like she was about to cry. She stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, her face tightening as she fought the tremor in her lips.

For a second, I thought I’d fucked it up. I was tempted to go to her, wrap her in my arms, and whisper into her hair that everything would be fine.

Then she spoke. “I think I want you.”

It wasn’t the declaration of the century, but it was honest.

And for now, it was enough.

“I’m here,” I said.

She lunged at me, burying her face in my chest as she cried. I wrapped my arms around her and pressed my lips to her hair. We stayed like that until the door creaked open and Simon poked his head in. His eyes landed on us—me holding Natalie, who was quiet now. I couldn’t tell what he thought, though I suspected surprise at not finding us half-undressed.

This wasn’t what I had planned for this room either.

We took a moment to right ourselves. Fortunately, Natalie’s makeup was waterproof—mostly. A small black smear marked my white shirt, but otherwise, no harm was done.

Within a few moments, we were presentable and followed Simon back to our suite and settled in with minutes to spare. By the time the music began again, Natalie was composed and smiling, her hand twined with mine.

I appreciated the second half even more than the first. Natalie’s enjoyment seemed freer, like some burden had been lifted. I didn’t know what, but I was glad it was gone. Halfway through, she snuggled into me, pulling my arm over her shoulders and swapping hands so our fingers stayed laced. She guided my hand lower, onto her breast, sighing softly as I caressed her through her dress.

Eventually, the show ended. Natalie straightened, eyes glowing. “Oh my God, Marcus. This was incredible.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I said.

I noticed the crowd gathering their things, preparing to leave. Natalie reached for her clutch.

“Not yet,” I said, covering her hand.

She looked confused but sat back down. “What’s going on?”

I sank into my chair. “Just wait.”

For ten minutes, we watched as the auditorium cleared, musicians included. Natalie chattered happily about the performance, so engrossed she didn’t notice the door open.

A short, slender man stepped in, listening for several minutes before clearing his throat. We both turned.

“Oh,” Natalie said. “I’m sorry.”

The man gave her an amused smile. “Not at all, miss. I enjoyed hearing your praise.”

Natalie gasped, her eyes going wide.

The conductor of the orchestra turned to me. “She’s agreed to play a piece, if you’re still interested.”

“We would love that. Thank you,” I said.

Natalie’s bewildered gaze snapped back to me. “What’s going on?”

“Roslyn Marco is our lead cellist,” the conductor explained. “She performed the solo after intermission. She’s agreed to play a piece she’s been preparing for next season. She’s never performed it for anyone. You will be the first to hear it.”

Natalie was speechless.

The conductor smiled kindly at her. “Thank you for coming tonight, and for enjoying our work. A lot of blood and sweat went into this performance, and it’s always wonderful to meet someone who appreciates it. Now—please enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Roslyn doesn’t do things like this.”

He glanced at me, then back at Natalie. “This man must love you a lot to make something like this happen.”

He shook both our hands and left.

As soon as the door was completely shut, Natalie whirled around and crashed into me, attacking my mouth with hers. Her generous lips molded to mine as she slipped both arms around my neck and pulled me tight. I grinned into the kiss and felt her smile back as she made out with me fervently.

Eventually, she tilted her head back just enough to break the kiss, her eyes fluttering open to look into mine. “I can’t believe you did something like this…”

“I’m just happy to see you smile, Nat,” I said, and then kissed her again.

We continued like that for another few minutes until the lights began to dim. Natalie ended the kiss, but kept her arms wrapped around me as she looked down at the stage. More interested in her, I continued to kiss along her jaw and nuzzle into her ear until she eventually pulled away. Only then did I look down to see that a single woman who appeared to be in her late fifties sat by herself in the middle of the stage, surrounded by unmanned instruments and empty chairs. She cradled a cello between her legs and was setting a piece of music on the stand in front of her.

Natalie stood up and leaned against the balcony, watching as the performer picked up her bow and positioned her fingers for the opening notes. I joined my date on the balcony railing, leaning on my elbows as we both listened as a sad, mournful piece began to ring throughout the empty auditorium.

Just for us.

Natalie’s fingers found mine again, her eyes still glued to the performance, and I watched her enjoy the small gift that was only hers. I noticed her fingers twitch, and it took me a moment to realize that they might actually be following the pattern of the woman below. There was a serene smile on her face.

And I realized that I’d lucked out. I didn’t know Natalie nearly as well as I thought I had—her thoughts, dreams, hobbies… I knew very little of it, and as I studied her, memorizing every line of her face, I decided I wanted to know more.

If she would let me.

The music began to blossom slowly, transforming from something low and mournful to something that suggested a sunrise on the horizon.

And as Roslyn continued to play, Natalie’s smile grew.

Eyes still fixed on the performance below, she whispered, “You are getting so lucky tonight.”

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To Be Continued...