Chapter Fifteen
Gray
The phone in my apron vibrated, and I jumped. Thinking it could be Serge, I held up a finger to Rémy and pulled it out, my stomach in knots. That’s when I realized it was my personal phone, and not the one issued to me by the Opera.
“Fuck.” I muttered as soon as I realized who it was. Ricardo, and seeing how it was almost eleven at night, that probably meant he was drunk, crying, or both. I also noticed the amount of messages he’d sent me over the last few days, none of which I had opened.
“Who is it? Serge?”
“No, it’s…” I placed the phone on the dressing room table and untied the apron, then draped it over the back of the wooden director’s chair. Rémy laid his hand on my shoulder, and I looked up into his intense stare. My fingers ached to return his touch, but s
