Sophie
This was my moment. Energy radiated through all of my cells as strobe lights flashed, fans chanted “Carlotta,” and my band started to play the opening notes of my first song.
Wembley’s roof could be closed or open air, and the weather was perfect for open air. When I came down from the dark night sky, singing the lyrics to my latest hit song, the crowd got even louder.
At the end of the song, my feet hit the stage and the invisible harness magically snapped off me. I ran up to the edge of the stage. “Hello London!” I screamed with my hand in the air.
The crowd went crazy, and adrenaline surged through my body.
And I felt free. With everything that had happened in the last few months—and especially the last few days—at that moment, I understood what it meant to be free. What it meant to be the artist I’d always wanted to be.
I sang songs from my new album. I sang songs from my old album. I tried out new test lyrics to songs that were only in my head in pieces and asked my fans what they thought.
They went crazy. I did three different versions of a new chorus I was working on and had them choose.
“London, when this song comes out, it’s your song! Do you want one, two, or three?” The crowd went crazy yelling out numbers, and then I went right into a number one hit I had on my new record.
My band and I went back and forth rocking out in styles we had always wanted to play, but had always been forbidden to do by the label. We were told my fans would hate it. The label was wrong.
Throughout the night, I realized that no matter what I sang, my fans loved me for my talent, and I had given them enough hits over the last twenty years to last a lifetime. As long as I sang and gave them my everything, they had my back.
It was a new realization, and it hit me hard. Emotions were things I had always kept under wraps, but I was no longer trying to hide anything.
My security was everywhere, and I had no fear. For the first time in over a decade I trusted that my security had things handled, and I wasn’t looking out the corner of my eye, worrying while I played.
As the crowd waved their phone flashlights and cigarette lighters in the air, I decided it was the perfect moment. I turned to my band and motioned to them. They started to play, and I ran over to the side of the stage where Phil, Liv, Tom, Ethan, and Claire stood smiling.
Ethan handed me a bottle of water, and I downed half of it.
Then I pulled Phil’s forehead to mine, mouthed “thank you,” and kissed him hard. The biggest grin I had ever seen on his face was staring back at me. I ran back out to the stage and said, “This is a new one I’m working on, and it’s for someone very special. You know who you are.” I looked back over at him and winked.
“I found love in a secret world,” I belted out in a slow but strong voice.
The arena erupted.
I continued to sing about love, taking a gamble, not thinking, forgetting, and getting lost in amber and rosewood.
At the end of the song, I sang, “You’re underestimated and forever mine.”
The crowd’s response was the loudest it had been all night. With a massive grin, I looked over at Phil’s shining eyes and blew him a kiss. He blew me one back, and I continued to finish the concert with my other hits.
After three standing ovations, I finally called it a wrap. My band had never looked so happy, and I knew this was just the beginning of how things were going to be from now on.
I ran off the stage and jumped up into Phil’s arms and wrapped my legs around his waist. His arms immediately grabbed my ass and back and our lips became an inferno. As the energy of the stadium continued to seep through my cells, I tightened my grip on him and got lost in the power he always held over me.
Ninety-thousand people were in the stadium, but I was engrossed in Phil. His lips, his tongue, his erection that started to press against my sex, but most importantly, his belief and adoration for me. Not Carlotta Ensign but Sophie Cradle had stolen his heart, and through all my pushing and mistakes, he still wanted and loved me.
Phil Laurent, the underestimated, C-suite, secret-life man who only did casual, only wanted me. He took the gamble, and for the first time in twenty years, I felt safe, loved, in control, and happy.
The bodyguards finally broke our kiss and told us that we needed to get moving quickly to the car. Phil held onto me around my waist as we were quickly escorted to the limo where the others were already in the car.
Loud chants of “Carlotta” were still as strong as when I’d left the stage, and I didn’t take my ear plugs out till we were a block down the road.
Everyone else slowly took theirs out as well.
I was sitting on Phil’s lap, and he grabbed my face. “Petal, that was incredible!”
Everyone in the car agreed, telling me how much they loved it.
“Thank you,” I told Phil, kissed him, then turned to everyone and said, “Thank you,” to them as well.
We were all on a high. When we got to the hotel, the guards quickly ushered us to the penthouse. We had a few celebratory drinks, then went off to our rooms.
Phil had grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign from the outside door and put it on our door.
I laughed. “Planning on sleeping in?”
He grinned. “I don’t plan on doing much sleeping, Petal.”
I giggled.
His eyes scanned mine. “I can’t get over how incredible you were tonight.”
“Thank you,” I told him again.
“You don’t have to thank me, Petal.”
I put my finger over his lips. “Everything good that’s happening is because of you.”
“Not true,” he mumbled against my finger.
“Shh.” I pressed my finger harder against his mouth. “I’ve never felt like I had choices before, or played while feeling safe, or just felt happy or loved. You gave that to me tonight.” I blinked back tears.
Phil’s thumb traced my jawline. “That makes me happy, Petal.”
“Come on. I have to scrub this makeup off my face.” My hand grabbed his, and I led him to the bathroom. We started stripping each other and stepped into the shower.
Slow, lazy kisses that grew deeper and more urgent consumed us.
Phil’s hand cupped my butt, pulling me against his body. “I love you, Petal,” he murmured against me.
“I love you,” I whispered back.
We kissed and whispered so long, the water started to lose its heat. Laughing, I told him to get out so I could quickly scrub my stage dirt off me.
He reluctantly stepped out, and when I got done, he was waiting to wrap me up in towels. When I had a towel over my head and around my body, he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed.
I shrieked and giggled.
He put me down and pressed his forehead to mine. “Thank you for letting me love you.”