“You chose this dress for me.” He states, and moves in closer so that his breath brushed against the nape of my exposed neck. “I-” I couldn’t deny the dress wasn’t for him. The Maestro knew me all too well. “I wore this dress for you,” I admitted. The breath I didn’t realize I was holding in escaped and he smirked at my expense. The Opera House was empty, the vast walls and expensive seating made me blush. The tall ceilings and balconies stretched across the back of the house and it made the atmosphere feel open and exposed. I knew no one was watching, but in the shadows of the theater, it was exciting to think an audience could be lurking quietly.