Aubrie Dionne - A Diva in Manhattan - HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance

AUBRIE DIONNE

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014

Copyright © Aubrie Dionne 2014

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Aubrie Dionne asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

and read the text of this e-book on screen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

stored in or introduced into any information storage and

retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

hereinafter invented, without the express

written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © November 2014

ISBN: 9780007594603

Version: 2016-11-17

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

To Donna Lombardo, the fabulous opera soprano and my good friend. Thank you for all of your insights and advice!

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE: First Sight

CHAPTER TWO: Tea

CHAPTER THREE: Prize

CHAPTER FOUR: Opera Witch

CHAPTER FIVE: Looking Too Hard

CHAPTER SIX: Heroes and Villains

CHAPTER SEVEN: Sabotage

CHAPTER EIGHT: Improvisation

CHAPTER NINE: Time

CHAPTER TEN: From Riches to Rags

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Work and Play

CHAPTER TWELVE: Pearl

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Bumps in the Night

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Message

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Baring It All

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Return to Reality

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Prize Students

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Deal Breaker

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Bianca’s Revenge

CHAPTER TWENTY: Parting Gift

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: Truth

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: Offer

Also by Aubrie Dionne…

Aubrie Dionne

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Alaina sang the last note of her aria and waited for her voice to echo throughout the farthest rows of the Metropolitan Opera House. A year ago, she would have never thought she’d be standing here in front of the judges. But, one favorable review on her Italian tour last summer was all it had taken to escalate her into high demand status and get her the audition of a lifetime for the character of Pamina in The Magic Flute .

She brought her arms down to her sides and awaited judgment. She’d sung her lungs out. If that wasn’t the bomb, then she didn’t know what they were looking for.

Roxanne Smith, an older woman with Elizabeth Taylor’s wild dark hair, and the president of the board nodded to the European conductor, Altez Vior, then addressed Alaina. “Obviously you have the vocals for the part.”

Alaina concealed her breath of relief and bowed her head, trying to look modest - an act that didn’t come to her naturally. “Thank you.”

“But.” Elizabeth’s look-a-like tapped her pen on her cheek.

Alaina swallowed her disdain. She never did like those old movies. “Yes?”

“The role calls for a sweet young maiden in love, which is hardly what you’re known for.”

Alaina bit back a retort. “I can assure you, I’m an excellent actress.”

Roxanne held up a finger. “But will concert goers want to see you in that role? Will they believe you are capable of unrequited love?”

“They will believe what I sing.” She was at the top of her game, and she’d have the audience at her feet with one sweet note. Why couldn’t these idiots see that?

The conductor, nodded, rubbing his hand over his crazy white hair. “Perhaps. But, to get them in the seats in the first place, you need to soften your image.”

Alaina scoffed. Her image? Why, she was the most beautiful, alluring, and versatile soprano around. Who else were they looking for? Mother Teresa? “And how do you propose I do that?”

Roxanne smiled wickedly. “We want you to volunteer as a music teacher at Heart House.”

“Heart House?” Shock weakened her knees, followed by a large dose of fear. That was a charter school for the underprivileged. They scribbled more graffiti on the walls than notes on a page. She’d even heard there were gangs.

Mr. Vior nodded. “That’s not all. You’ll have to attend a number of high profile fundraisers for children with disabilities, victims of tragedies, and the Center for Cancer Research.”

Alaina blinked as she digested his words. Being an only child, she had no practice working with children, the only tragic thing she’d experienced was a bad review, and the thought of anything medical made her sick to her stomach. “I see.”

The conductor raised both his eyebrows. “If you agree, we are willing to offer you the part.”

The bright lights burned into her retinas as a feeling of claustrophobia came over her. For someone who’d been on stage her entire life, social work was far from her comfort zone.

She couldn’t refuse. Singing at the Met would propel her career into the stratosphere. She’d never need to belt out another Ava Maria at a wedding again. She could handpick any role she wanted, join any touring opera company in the country, maybe even the world.

“I accept.”

“Excellent.” Roxanne clapped her iPad case closed and stood. “We’ll see you tonight at our first fundraiser for Project Wish.”

Tonight? She’d been planning on a bubble bath to de-stress. Before she could respond, the conductor walked to the stage and shook her hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

All Alaina could manage was “mmhmm.”

I got the part. She kept repeating that phrase as she slipped on her faux fur coat. She almost forgot her green snakeskin Gucci purse on stage and had to run back for it. She felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a monster truck.

She could sing the part easily enough, but could she teach inner city ruffians? Comfort children with disabilities? Rub elbows with cancer survivors? Compassion was something she reserved for the tragic characters in her arias. In real life, she’d never so much as poured a bowl of Campbell’s at a soup kitchen. She hadn’t had the time. Her parents had her practicing and acting since the age of five when she appeared singing the theme song in an Oscar Mayer ad.

Alaina stumbled into the traffic choked streets of New York, wishing she hadn’t fired her limo driver back in Italy when he’d gotten lost. She raised her hand to hail a cab, but at rush hour, it was like swimming against the tide in a sea of sharks.

As she waited on the curb, drills echoed from across West 65 thstreet. A construction crew tore up the sidewalk.

Honestly, did they have to work at this time of day?

She narrowed her eyes, about to shoot lasers at them for disturbing her peace, when a man caught her attention. Holding a giant plank of wood like it was a golf club, he reached up and handed it to three men on the scaffolding.