Chapter 2: II | inoubliable
Belle Evans
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"Hi, I'm here for Mr. Grayson Park. My name is Belle Evans," I said to the beautiful hostess. Her uniform was neat and mature compared to my part-time cafe job. I couldn't help but stare at her define facial structure and hourglass body figure as she scans through her tablet.
"Ms. Evans, welcome. I'll inform Mr. Park about your arrival. For the meantime, please wait in the lobby," she said waving her hand at the red lounge chairs behind me. I gave her a quick nod before heading towards the lobby.
In order to take my mind off my jittery legs, I began to massage my hands. It's been awhile since I've performed in such a sumptuous place. Every single customers who past by were gorgeous and covered with gaudy, prominent brands like Gucci, Chanel, Prada, and Louis Vuitton. Even their hair were put up in fancy, complex braids.
Unconsciously, I tucked my beige trench coat in, hiding my simple long-sleeve black dress. I don't own any fancy brands and I just tied my black hair into a simple pony tail.
"Ms. Evans?"
I quickly looked up, taking my eyes off my hands, and saw a suave, muscled man. His curly caramel hair shone from the light above as his familiar brown eyes glanced at my green. I couldn't help but feel like I've seen this man before.
"Mr. Park, please call me Belle," I said standing up.
"Then please call me Grayson," he said shaking my hand. "Our age isn't far apart. Have you've been to Boulevard des Rêves before?"
"No, it's my first time here."
"Really, then allow me to give you a tour."
Throughout the tour, I couldn't help but find my eyes wander towards the night view. It was something I've never seen before. Layer and layers of colored lights, flickering below us like a sea of stars. I felt my fingers unconsciously move as if demanding me to play.
"Now, of course, for what you've been waiting for," Grayson said as he lured me to the middle of the restaurant. "The piano."
I felt my mouth part slightly at the sight of the pure white grand piano surrounded by circular dim floor lights. The ivory piano did not match the dark, dim feel of the restaurant. It stood, center of room, illuminating not only it's sound, but its presence.
It gave me an odd, possessive feeling.
"Whenever you're ready," said Grayson putting his hand out. Without straying away from the sight of the piano, I gave him a quick nod and handed him my purse and trench coat. From the corner of my eye, I saw him laugh and shake his head, but I didn't bother to ask why as the piano consumed my entire attention.
I walked around the grand piano once, caressing the rim and taking in the cool touch. It's been three years, ever since I graduated college, that I've laid my hands on a grand piano and it was breathtaking.
Slowly, I sat down on the matching piano bench, not minding the wandering eyes around me, and gently opened the fall board.
I began playing.
In remembrance of the city light that mirrors with the stars, I played Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2 in E-Flat Major and No. 1 in B-Flat Minor.
The dreamy melody of Chopin's masterpiece, set me in a familiar trance. I thrusted my finger into the key, allowing the notes to dance through the room. My ears rejecting the sound of chatter and awe and instead accepts the fine, leisurely tune of the piano.
My eyes were open, but my mind was somewhere else. It was wandering the night sky, above Seattle, floating in freedom as I danced with the spirits.
My movement began to slow down as the song was coming to an end. I took my slender fingers off the keys, finishing the last note and forced my mind back to reality. The vibration of the piano was replaced with soft, etiquette claps that fully brought me back from my ten minute trance. As gracefully as I could, I stood up and gave the audience a small bow before I stepped off the stage.
"That was a stunning performance," Grayson said, clapping.
"Thank you," I responded steadily. I turned towards the piano one last time, trying to burn the image of pure innocence and beauty into my head. It's going to be a while until I play such a magnificent thing.
After adjusting the weight of my trench coat in my arm, I aimlessly reached for my purse. To my surprise, Grayson snatch it away from my grasp. Frowning, I reached for it again, but he pulled it back.
"Mr. Grayson?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows. "My purse."
He grinned and I felt a hint of mischief. "May I offer you a complimentary meal as... gratitude for the sudden affair?"
There was so many warning signs about Mr. Grayson.
But I'd be a fool to turn down first-rate cuisine.
"That's a hard offer to refuse Mr. Grayson," I said as I put my hands out. "Purse first."
He grinned once again, adding a fox-like feature into his handsome face, before gently returning my purse. "Follow me, Ms. Belle."
As I follow the grey suited man, I felt eyes trailing me. I couldn't help but look down, attempting to hide from the anonymous stares.
When I notice we were passing by all the general tables and booths, I peered around him and saw the red-carpeted vip staircase.
"Mr. Grayson... a normal table is more than enough, even a seat at the bar is fine."
He slowed his pace so that he was walking right next to me. "You were our performer tonight Ms. Belle. A mere table is unsuited for such talents. And besides..." he shrugged slightly. "The boss would rather be with you... privately."
"Boss?"
He smiled, causing me to flinch. "Oh... did I forget to tell you? You'll be having dinner with the owner of Boulevard des Rêves."
What? This prick.
Before I could ask him any questions, he opened one of two black metal doors and motioned his hands towards the dark room. "Ms. Belle."
I gulped once before going into the twilight lounge. The room was dark, despite the dim lights illuminating from the floors and old fashion lanterns. The mirrors aligned with one another on opposite sides of the wall and on one side, it peered below to where the white grand piano stood. All the furniture was dark, but what caught my attention was the long, black leathered couch that face away towards the twinkling night sky, a perfect fit for the shadowed room.
Suddenly the door shut behind me, and I whispered a curse.
"Such foul words doesn't suit your... sensual appearance."
I was too focus on the lounge's dark, cryptic design that I didn't realize the man lazing on the couch.
He stood, his black suit perfectly hugged the muscles underneath, allowing easier access to grasp the image of his bare body. His dark black hair was styled into a modern quiff and even from afar, I can feel the sensation of running my hand through it. He had a matching stubbled beard that had hid his sharp, defined jaw.
He whirled the wine in his glass and smirked.
It was at that moment that I lost myself in his familiar, possessive amber eyes.
"Damien?"
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