Romanza In Rome

|20|

• Lilah •

Sanguine walls, covered in heaving velvet fabric to cushion the sound, gathered on all sides. The invited with their blood red warmth, into a gaping hole of dreams. The gold tapestries and tassels that hung over the gallery acted like private chaperons. Their gazes on you even when there was no one around. In the centre of the oval room was a circular stage, its exposed brick design more inviting than ever, the gold lights of the chandeliers illuminating every detail, allowing the guests to marvel at the opulence before the show even began. Men and women, born in the lap of luxury walked around with their trailing dresses and evening suits, the show of power never came to a halt.

Despite the irksome way the people thronged to their seats without a proper line, Lilah held her breath. The annoyance that bubbled under her skin, the need to cover her ears and shelter then from the untamed sounds coming from every which direction was astounding. Taimoor's hand, like a pleasurable, unforgiving touch lingered on the small of her back. Guiding her in and out of the crowds, his face set in a perfectly painted smile. The sinews of his jaw taut, the cheekbones cushioned by the softness of his eyes. She fought the urge to throw his hand off, her breath hitched anytime a finger of his accidentally slipped on to her warm skin. The palpitations of her heart, the burning inside her lungs the tears inside her eyes were all a cause of this one innocent stroke — her mind latching on to the thoughts of the impossible. Of the hidden, burning her skin a flaming hot red.

Rules of aristocracy and gentry called for him to lead her. His touch had to be the softest, Lilah knew from all the books she had devoured in her teenage days, holed up inside her bedroom. He should not allow himself to leave her side for more than a short few minutes, the smile on his face must not ever fall, the gentleness of his tone must not ever dissolve — or so that's what they said. Perhaps he knew what she was thinking, or perhaps he was too comfortable in the silence that shrouded them like a thick cloak that he barely left her side despite the n number of businessmen and women that walked to him. Who was she? Their eyes held that burning curiosity. A family friend's daughter, new to the city. Showing her around on mother's insistence — the reply was immediate and fell from his lips with no signs of retribution. So she was the billionaire's dirty little secret? Or had he not the courage to admit he was courting her?

"Taimoor".

"Yes la mia dolce metà".

"I'd like for you to remove your hand from my waist," she whispered into his ear.

"Why? Did I make you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry that was not the intention ever. I swear—"

His panicked tone made Lilah giggle, almost. Tonight she was not having it. Tonight she needed to stand up for herself, her mother would have done that.

"No but, you shouldn't touch a woman who you aren't courting".

"Wh—is this about what I've been telling people? I'm so sorry I just like my privacy".

His words were like burning coal on bare feet to her.

"Then you keep your privacy to yourself. I do prefer people not knowing my business but I also would never treat you like you're just a dirty little secret and I expect the same of you!"

"Oh come on Lilah. It's not that deep!"

"It is that deep!"