Three weeks later...
I take a deep breath, shutting the door to my small studio apartment. My fingers begin to bolt the locks, all three of them. Behind me is all I've acquired from the cash I have. After Henry removed the funds I asked, I had just two-thousand in there. Ida sent me a thousand.
Thankfully, I've found work easy. Not singing, but waitressing. It's a start, until I can save some money. I turn, leaning against the door, staring at the loft.
It's been 504 hours since I last spoke to Henry. Three weeks, and he hasn't reached out once. I see him on the TV, newspapers, magazines. He looks well... and I hate that. My bitterness is at it's highest extent.
But I just don't understand how he do something so drastic as kill for me and then leave? How can he leave me knowing that I'm completely alone here, knowing that I am afraid? After knowing what happened to me? How can he just give up?
He said he'd always be with me, whenever I needed him. Was it a lie?
It couldn't have been... he wouldn't have done all that he did.
Maybe he felt it was out of obligation? Maybe he lost control because someone touched me other than him?
No... that doesn't sound like him.
My daily thoughts between my shifts come to these musings, which only make me more bitter. Seeing him and Annabelle on the front pages as I walk to work doesn't help either.
I actually think he's going to marry her. I actually do.
...
Four months seem to pass, like a blink of an eye. I set down my tray, removing my apron tiredly after a double shift. It's close to midnight now. Michael is behind the bar, drying the glasses carefully.
"Mia, you've got company waiting on the floor."
"But I'm done," I groan, looking back to the main room.
"They're not here to eat."
I frown, grabbing my bag. I force myself to believe it's not Henry. Thinking like that only hurts me in the end. "I'm heading out."
"See you tomorrow."
I nod, letting down my messy hair. My eyes scan the room, before landing on a couple in the corner, that stand out like a sore thumb. A smile lights my face as I walk towards Angie, who's tapping exuberantly on Royce's shoulder, getting his attention.
"Countess!" I exclaim, happily.
"Oh, please," she scoffs, pulling me into a tight hug. I react slow from shock but I hug her back, reaching out for Royce's hand.
"Hello, Miss Mia," he says, kindly with a smile. To see their familiar faces- I feel elated beyond words. I pull back, shaking my head.
"What are you doing here? How did you find me?"
"We have connections," she says, smirking. I don't ask her what those are. I don't want to know. I always have a sneaking suspicion that Henry has me followed, but I could just be thinking too highly of myself. She looks down at my bag.
"Are you free for the night?"
I nod. "Yeah, I'm off."
"We stopped by after a dinner we had, and had a very interesting conversation with Mr. Freeman... do you remember him?"
I chuckle. "How could I not? I nearly passed out from fright on that stage."
"Well, he doesn't remember that at all... he heard you're back in London and not singing!"
"He thought I was a millionaire," I state, awkwardly. She shakes her head.
"He suspected that you were with someone of importance, since no one had heard of you before... After he saw you dance with Henry, he- was sure of where the money came from."
I groan. "So, he thinks I'm a gold digger?"
Royce cuts in for the first time. "Well... actually, one of the people on Richard's staff, well they overheard him talking about you and told someone else about the affair. It was this whole horrid debacle to keep things quiet. Henry and his brother were supposedly at each other's throats."
I blink. "So... who knows about Henry and I?"
"Most close nobility to the royals do," Royce says, quietly. "But it's kept very hushed. Richard definitely made sure of it."
"Annabelle?" I utter, reluctantly. Angie's lips turn up, before she nods.
"She knows."
I close my eyes, shaking my head. "Well, that sucks."
Angie clears her throat. "The wedding is in a few months."
I try to remain unmoving, as if that weren't a blow to my stomach. "Is... Is he happy?"
They look between each other and then to me. Royce looks uncomfortable but eventually speaks. "... H-Henry is the worst I've ever seen him, and I saw him through his father's death. A completely different person."
I can't say it hurts to hear that. "... They look happy on magazines."
"You have to be an actor to be a royal, Mia," Angie states, quietly. "He works tirelessly for his brother, although their relationship hasn't repaired. He only sees Annabelle on outings."
I can't conceal my relief. I seriously try not to smile.
"You look happy to hear that," Angie says, with a smirk. I shake my head, looking down to conceal my joyful tears. I'm crying with happiness because he's miserable. This is a whole different kind of low.
"But you swerved us from what we were going to tell you!" she exclaims, touching my arm. "Mr. Freeman wants to introduce you to a man he knows, who owns a prestigious club. They're looking for a lead singer and they don't hold open auditions, so his influence will get you in."
I gape, stunned. "Are you serious?"
"Yes! We came straight here to tell you. The auditions are being held tomorrow night. He wants to meet with you in the morning, so he can introduce you personally to the owner before anyone arrives."
I'm speechless. "I- I'm sorry, I can't believe it... Are you sure?"
"Completely," Royce says, nodding. "He is extremely taken with you."
My excitement falters at that last part. "Wait. Is... he expecting anything if I accept? Mr. Freeman?"
Angie shakes her head. "No, he told me he is doing this strictly because of your talent. Besides, I'm sure he'd never try anything knowing who you were previously connected to."
I grin, awed. "I'm- I'm overwhelmed... thank you so much for coming to tell me."
She grasps my hand, squeezing tightly. "Will you accept to see him tomorrow?"
I scoff, chuckling. "Of course I will. Anything is better than this."
Royce smiles. "Let's get some coffee. Mia, you will join us?"
I feel a bubbling excitement, a feeling I haven't had for months. "Yes. Just give me a minute, I'm going to get someone to cover my shift. I'll be right back."
When they nod, I turn, smiling. My luck may finally be changing.
...
"Hello flower," Arnold Freeman says, hands clasped before him. He's standing at a small table, alone. I smile, approaching him, unsure of what to do. I'm wearing a lavender dress, wanting to seem brighter than usual. He leans forward, kissing my cheek softly, startling me.
"Hello," I breathe, nervously. "It's nice to see you again."
"I was just going to say the same thing. You seem to have blossomed going off on your own. That dress is lovely."
"Thank you," I hum, tucking hair behind my ear instinctively. I look around the elegant ballroom, trying to contain my awe. "I can't believe this is the club."
"It's the gathering place for anyone of substance. You cannot get in unless you are wealthy or possess a worthy name."
"I don't know what I'm doing here then," I chuckle, flushing pink. "I'm so grateful you thought of me though, Mr. Freeman."
"I told you to call me Arnie. Mr. Freeman is my father," he says, smiling wide, his sparkling white teeth shining against the lights. "And you are here because you are someone of substance."
Because I slept with the prince, I think reluctantly. I cross my arms, biting my lip nervously. "I thought I'd do a ballad tonight."
"That will definitely showcase your range."
I smirk. "You only heard me once, you know. I wasn't even warmed up."
"And you dazzled me," he states, leaning forward. I glance down at his hand that rests on the table beside my arm and my body flinches in warning. I remove my arm, setting my hand into my lap. He notices, of course he does but thankfully, he only smiles, straightening. "I actually have a confession to make."
"Confession?"
He nods, pursing his lips. "I was actually at the Royal Opera House when you sang. I wasn't even going to go to that charity event, until I saw your name appear on the donor list."
I'm uncomfortable now, like stone in my seat. "But it was your event, wasn't it?"
He nods. "I host many events, Mia. I don't go to every one of them... but recognizing your name, knowing your talent, I was excited to meet you. Which is why I was so sad to see you were already spoken for when you arrived."
Oh no. I chuckle, looking down at my lap. "Am I here for an audition, Arnold? Or are you trying to woo me by saying you lied when you met me about not knowing who I was? By trying to prove to me that you somehow already care for me?"
He runs a hand through his perfect curly hair. "I do."
"You don't know me, at all."
"We could get to know one another."
I stare at him, surprisingly calm. "No. Not like that. I'm- not looking for anything with anyone."
"Because you're waiting for him?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter, jaw tight.
He breathes in. "He is to be married, Mia. And any man that would choose a woman like that over a woman like you is a fool. I don't care if your noble or not. If you have money or not."
I stand up, abruptly. "I'm sorry, Arnold but I came under the impression that I would be auditioning for a job. I didn't think I'd have to be with you in order to get it."
"You don't," he says immediately, holding his hand up. He chuckles, to my surprise. "Please, Mia. Sit down."
I stare at him, intently. He smiles, innocently. "I pushed too far... Please, sit. I will find Octavio."
He stands up, tilting his head apologetically, holding his arms up. I set my purse down reluctantly and he grins.
"I'll be right back."
I huff to myself, taking a seat. If I didn't need this opportunity so damn bad, I'd have been out the door by now. I can't tell whether or not Arnold Freeman is going to be a problem.
He arrives just minutes later, with a man I'm guessing is the owner of the club. He's in a green long-sleeved turtle-neck and black slacks. The shirt brings out the vibrancy of his hazel eyes against his dark skin. He looks kind when he smiles, which makes me feel more at ease. Here we go. I stand up, smiling. Without thinking twice, the man reaches down for my hand, shaking gently.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he says, straightening. "Arnie here has been relentless in his efforts to get this meeting."
I smirk. "He is very persistent when he wants to be."
Arnie chuckles. "It is a family trait."
"And it gets him everything he wants," Octavio states, patting Arnold's back.
"Not everything," Arnold says, glancing at me. I feel my cheeks warm as I quickly look away, at Octavio.
He rolls his eyes, looking back at me. "I am Octavio Afolabi. You are Miss Tyler?"
"Call me Mia, please," I murmur, tilting my head warmly. He purses his lips.
"I've heard you're quite the singer," Octavio infers, holding his hand out. I take it, glancing at Arnie.
"She is."
Octavio nods. "Well, show me. There's no time like the present."
I blink in surprise. What? "Oh, I thought the audition was tonight."
"It can be. Or it can be now, before anyone's had the chance to be heard."
Whoa. I wasn't expecting this. I thought I could grab a tea, some honey to warm my throat. Octavio smiles, waiting.
But... I guess I'm doing this now.
"You want me on the stage?" I ask, trying to sound as confidant as possible. He grins, nodding.
"Yes. Let me get my pianist. Oliver!"
I start up the steps, surprised by how calm I feel. The nervous feeling in my gut is dissipating now. I'm in my element. The stage is my element. The lights shine on the stage suddenly, as the main room dims into darkness.
Oliver walks out from the side of the curtain, still chewing on his food. "Yes, boss?"
"Oliver, Miss Tyler here has an early audition."
Oliver, a tall, lanky boy, clears his throat, nodding. He approaches me, smiling. "Of course. Hello, Miss Tyler."
"Mia," I hum warmly. "Could you play In The Wee Small Hours, please?"
He nods, walking to the piano.
"Whenever you're ready," I hear Octavio utter politely from the darkness. I approach the microphone, breathing in deeply. An image of Henry flashes through my brain, momentarily stunning me into silence. We were in bed at Kensington, he was nuzzling his nose against mine. His expression was tender when he pulled back to look at me. I was mesmerized by him, unable to sleep because I wanted to keep looking at him.
With just a blink, the memory is gone, pushed back into my deep abyss of memories. I breathe in and I look to Oliver.
...
"You've got it," Arnold states, proudly, approaching me on the curb outside of the large building structure. I stare at him, holding my breath. He nods. "You've got it, Mia. You're hired. He just called off the remaining auditions."
I had dreamed, especially when Octavio asked me to sing something else, something he wouldn't expect me to. I chose Billy Joel's And So It Goes, deciding heartbreak was the best way to go, since I have so much experience in the area. I dreamed but couldn't actually believe it could happen.
I exhale in a rush, eyes wide. "Are you serious? I got the job?"
He grins. "You did."
"Oh my god," I breathe, placing a hand on my stomach in shock. "Oh my god!" I run forward, wrapping my arms around his shoulders in excitement. "Thank you so much, Arnold!"
He rubs my back gently. "Don't thank me. You earned that job."
I pull back, shaking my head tearfully. "I wouldn't have had the opportunity if it weren't for you though."
He smiles, softly. "I'm glad I was able to help you... You were not made to wait tables. You're too good for that."
I shake my head, in awe. "I can't believe this."
He chuckles, glancing down the street. "Why... don't we celebrate? Let me grab you lunch. There's a great place by the water?"
I look at him, faltering slightly. And then I exhale, letting myself take in happiness for once. "You know what? That sounds great."