Her voice was still gruff when she spoke, but it had held up well in the brief rehearsal she had that afternoon. She could only hope that it would continue.
She didn't even need to look towards the table Raphael had previously occupied; she knew he was there without even looking. She did, however, cast a glance his way as she walked onto the stage, her gaze drawn to him as if by a magnet. Her face blanched as she saw what she saw, her smile faltering.
Raphael wasn't the only one! A beautiful blonde-haired woman in her early thirties sat at the table with him, her face animated as she talked up at him. She was naturally beautiful, with a glow that emanated from within her. Raphael's life had obviously not been lonely since Lora's death.
But why should she have expected him to be as uninterested in relationships as she was? As far as he was concerned, she had betrayed him in one of the most humiliating ways possible; he couldn't know that she had made him believe that in order to spare him further pain and disillusionment with her. And she admitted it to save herself pain. She'd seen one man's love burn to ashes in front of her eyes, and her feelings for Raphael far outweighed her youthful feelings for Paul. She couldn't subject either of them to that.
She'd imagined Raphael with other women over the years, but since she didn't have to see him with them, she'd been able to bear that pain as well. As she began her show, her increased vulnerability towards him made it impossible for her to look his way again.
Something was wrong with her deteriorating voice tonight, a pain in her throat that made even swallowing difficult! She began to gasp for air, her throat constricting as she did so, and then she became aware of a darkly angry man approaching the raised stage, her eyes widening with fear as Raphael bore down on her.
What happened next was a blur, as she felt herself being carried off the stage and out of the room, the stunned silence that had followed Raphael's actions erupting into speculative chatter as soon as they were out of the room.
Raphael's face was grim the only time she dared to look up at him, and because she was still struggling to catch her breath, she tried to focus on that rather than his rage.
'What is your doctor's phone number?' Raphael rasped as he sat her down on his suite's sofa.
'Doctor?' She blinked up at him, her breathing becoming a little easier.
'The one you saw yesterday,' he grumbled, holding the phone receiver in his hand, ready to dial the number.
She moistened her lips as she struggled to swallow. 'He doesn't do house calls,' says the doctor.
Raphael's face darkened with foreboding. 'He'll do this one.' 'What's his phone number, Sophia?'
She reluctantly handed it over to him. 'But he won't come here,' she said, shaking her head.
Before dialing the number for Dave Hadley's Harley Street Clinic, Raphael gave her an arrogant look. 'A damned answering service,' he muttered seconds later, taking down the phone number provided by the machine. 'I don't see how someone calling this late at night could be anything other than an emergency,' he thought to himself.
'Raphael—'
As the second phone call was obviously answered, he gave her a chilling look. 'What do you mean the doctor is in the operating room?' he rasped after a few minutes. 'You can have him paged if it's an emergency?' he scathingly repeated. 'Then do so, madam,' he said, biting his lower lip. 'I've got a singer here who can't even breathe, let alone sing!'
Sophia didn't listen as he gave the woman this address. A performer of songs. Yes, she was nothing more to him than a performer in one of his hotels who wasn't up to par.
'Who exactly is Dave Hadley, Sophia?' he had rung off now, his eyes narrowed.
She shook her head dismissively. 'Just a doctor.'
'The irate lady on the phone just informed me that he's a Harley Street specialist,'
Her cheeks were flushed. 'That isn't all that unusual. Because my voice is all I have, I naturally have it taken care of by the best.'
'Naturally,' he mused. 'How could I have forgotten how important your job is to you?' he scoffed.
She refused to flinch in the face of the insult. 'I'll go down and wait in my room for the doctor.'
'You're not going anywhere,' Raphael grumbled.
'I'm sure I've already ruined your evening,' she insisted. 'I can't keep you from your visitor any longer.'
'Guest?' He looked perplexed, his brow furrowed. 'Oh, you mean Jenny,' he said dismissively.
'I'm sure she's looking forward to your return.' Sophia took a firm step forward.
'I doubt it,' Raphael said mockingly. 'Women on their honeymoon rarely crave the company of men other than their husband.' 'Honeymoon?' Sophia raised an eyebrow.
'Jenny and Nigel Banton were on their honeymoon at the hotel,' he explained dryly. 'Jenny simply came by my table for a few minutes to tell me how pleasant everyone on the staff made their stay.'
'Oh.'
'Indeed,' he dismissed arrogantly.
'Well, I—I can wait for Dave in my own room,' she insisted. 'There's no need to bother you any longer with this.'
'You're going to stay right here, Sophia.' He didn't raise his voice, but the threat was still there. 'There are a few questions I'd like to ask the doctor,' he added solemnly.
'As an example?' She tried—and failed—to infuse casual interest into her voice. She didn't want Raphael talking to Dave Hadley because she knew he'd terminate her contract without hesitation if he found out she wasn't really singing. And she didn't want him to do that anymore, knowing after his kiss yesterday that she wanted to keep working somewhere where she might see Raphael, even if only from a distance.
'Like how long you've been seeing him,' Raphael grumbled. 'Like how he could let you keep singing when you clearly shouldn't.'
She tensed up. 'No one makes those kinds of decisions for me,' she said flatly.
Blue eyes dilated. 'Does that mean the doctor told you not to sing?'
'That means it's none of your business,' she said as she stood up.
'As your supervisor—'
'It's still none of your business,' she retorted angrily. 'If you're not satisfied, you ask me to leave, not start telling me how to run my life!'
'Sit down, Sophia,' Raphael said sternly. 'You're not going anywhere. 'God, I knew you were ambitious, but not to the point where it's become a sickness, when you can't stop when you need to!' he exclaimed disgustedly.
'You don't get it—'
'I've never done it. 'I've never understood that blind ambition,' he fumed. 'Rather than you ruling it, it rules your life to the exclusion of all else.'
'It's all I have,' she said softly, wishing he'd just leave her alone.
'It didn't have to be that way,' he said coldly. 'You made your own decision.'
She realized he was referring to the marriage proposal he had made to her previously. But it hadn't been her decision; it had already been made for her. Her career had become a substitute for the husband and children she would never have; and yet she knew she would give it up tomorrow if she could just have Raphael the way they had been, in love and living together, without marriage even being a consideration.
But the career that had become so important in her life was now all that Raphael cared about her.
'Yes, it was my decision,' she stated flatly.
'Do you have any regrets, Sophia?' he mocked.
She kept her gaze fixed on him. 'What about marriage? 'None,' she replied strongly.
The deep blue eyes glowed with rage. 'Do you know how many times I fantasized about strangling you with your own hair?' he said harshly.