Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ Gankutsuou Reborn ❯ La Decadenza ( Chapter 7 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: roryheadmav 
Anime/Manga: Gankutsuou Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Classic | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 10.03.2005 | Updated On: 10.03.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 303 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gankutsuou Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Classic | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 10.03.2005 | Updated On: 10.03.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 303 | Status: Completed
GANKUTSUOU REBORN
© September 14, 2005 By Rory V. Pascual
CHAPTER SEVEN: La Decadenza
A weary Albert trudged through the hallway of the Embassy, heading for his office. He had just come from an exceptionally boring meeting, which he could have dismissed earlier if only he possessed an iota of rudeness to interrupt Liaisons Officer Cornelius Avanti's lengthy budget report. He was particularly envious of his personal aide, Thierry Dordet. The young man had fallen fast asleep in his seat, and no one realized that he was sleeping because he nodded at every emphatic point that Avanti made while tapping his pen on his note pad.
"Sunday seems oh so far away," Albert mumbled dejectedly.
When he entered his office, however, it was to see Bertuccio and Baptistin standing before his desk. Both men had wide toothy grins on their faces. Albert's eyes narrowed, wondering what kind of mischief they were up to.
"All right, I surrender!" Albert declared, raising both arms in the air. "What's with that silly look on your ugly mugs?"
The two men looked at each other for a moment. Then, Baptistin flashed a black and red card before his eyes. Because it was too close to his face, Albert could not make out what was written in gold print.
"TAA DAA!" Baptistin exclaimed. "After long weeks of waiting and pressuring the right people, you FINALLY have a reservation at La Decadenza for this Friday night!"
Hearing those words, Albert snatched the ticket that the rogue was waving around. "Really? You're not kidding, right? This isn't fake?" Recalling the words 'pressuring people', he asked suspiciously, "Tell me you didn't kill someone to get this ticket."
Bertuccio feigned hurt. "Come now, Albert! Would we do something like that? With the permission of Princess Haydee, we decided to tap into the vast resources of the Count to get you this reservation. We would've done it sooner, but we feared you might not approve."
"Besides," Baptistin added, "the only way you could get into that club is through money, and I do mean lots of it. You should've seen how Tintoretto's eyes popped out of its sockets when we gave him a hundred thousand ducats."
"A HUNDRED THOU… Well, I would've preferred if you hadn't used the Count's money, but…" It was Albert's turn to grin. "I'm sure he would understand. It's for a good cause after all."
"Before I forget, I told Tintoretto that you are to be personally introduced to Etienne, being an ardent admirer and all that," Bertuccio suddenly remembered. "I did not tell him that you are the Ambassador to Luna. I merely said that you are a young businessman from Marseille. I think it would be best to preserve your anonymity at this time."
"Thanks for your discretion, gentlemen." Albert let out a happy whoop and he jumped up and down like a little boy, much to the amusement of Baptistin and Bertuccio. "Now the next problem is what in heaven's name am I going to wear?"
© September 14, 2005 By Rory V. Pascual
CHAPTER SEVEN: La Decadenza
A weary Albert trudged through the hallway of the Embassy, heading for his office. He had just come from an exceptionally boring meeting, which he could have dismissed earlier if only he possessed an iota of rudeness to interrupt Liaisons Officer Cornelius Avanti's lengthy budget report. He was particularly envious of his personal aide, Thierry Dordet. The young man had fallen fast asleep in his seat, and no one realized that he was sleeping because he nodded at every emphatic point that Avanti made while tapping his pen on his note pad.
"Sunday seems oh so far away," Albert mumbled dejectedly.
When he entered his office, however, it was to see Bertuccio and Baptistin standing before his desk. Both men had wide toothy grins on their faces. Albert's eyes narrowed, wondering what kind of mischief they were up to.
"All right, I surrender!" Albert declared, raising both arms in the air. "What's with that silly look on your ugly mugs?"
The two men looked at each other for a moment. Then, Baptistin flashed a black and red card before his eyes. Because it was too close to his face, Albert could not make out what was written in gold print.
"TAA DAA!" Baptistin exclaimed. "After long weeks of waiting and pressuring the right people, you FINALLY have a reservation at La Decadenza for this Friday night!"
Hearing those words, Albert snatched the ticket that the rogue was waving around. "Really? You're not kidding, right? This isn't fake?" Recalling the words 'pressuring people', he asked suspiciously, "Tell me you didn't kill someone to get this ticket."
Bertuccio feigned hurt. "Come now, Albert! Would we do something like that? With the permission of Princess Haydee, we decided to tap into the vast resources of the Count to get you this reservation. We would've done it sooner, but we feared you might not approve."
"Besides," Baptistin added, "the only way you could get into that club is through money, and I do mean lots of it. You should've seen how Tintoretto's eyes popped out of its sockets when we gave him a hundred thousand ducats."
"A HUNDRED THOU… Well, I would've preferred if you hadn't used the Count's money, but…" It was Albert's turn to grin. "I'm sure he would understand. It's for a good cause after all."
"Before I forget, I told Tintoretto that you are to be personally introduced to Etienne, being an ardent admirer and all that," Bertuccio suddenly remembered. "I did not tell him that you are the Ambassador to Luna. I merely said that you are a young businessman from Marseille. I think it would be best to preserve your anonymity at this time."
"Thanks for your discretion, gentlemen." Albert let out a happy whoop and he jumped up and down like a little boy, much to the amusement of Baptistin and Bertuccio. "Now the next problem is what in heaven's name am I going to wear?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Amidst the flashing strobe lights of La Decadenza, Albert sat conspicuously and miserably at his reserved table, with the desire to kill someone growing stronger with every passing minute.
It turned out that Friday was the Youth/Dance Night at the club. All the clubbers were attired in casual clothes to make it easier for them to dance to the loud, wild, gyrating music that was being played by the band on stage.
Poor Albert was totally out of place. At the insistence of Bertuccio and Baptistin that he make an impression on Etienne, he decided to go to La Decadenza dressed in a dashing black tuxedo and a smart bowtie around his neck. The minute he entered the club, he was instantly met by looks of amusement. Quite a few of the youths actually laughed.
Hearing a snicker from the table behind him, Albert gulped down his brandy and snarled. "I'm going to kill those two when I get home!" Already, he was dreading the singer's reaction if he saw him in this outfit.
Before he could even think of sneaking out of the club to spare himself from any further embarrassment, the band stopped playing and the emcee announced Etienne's name to the roar of the crowd. Albert found himself plopping right back down on his seat as Luna's Nightingale took center stage to wild applause and the thunderous beating of drums.
Never had Albert seen Etienne like this. The singer was wearing a shimmering silver shirt of silk with black pants so tight that they clung to his long legs. On his feet he wore velvet boots that were just right for dancing. Indeed, Etienne danced and pranced gracefully on stage, his voice not once faltering or missing a beat as he moved. His long hair flowed like a mantle with every twist of his head, every jerk of his body.
Albert stared transfixed. This was a side of Etienne that he never imagined. Raw, sensual, powerful… Already, he could feel a certain part of his anatomy stirring at that shameless display.
Etienne's set consisted of ten numbers – six dance tunes and four love songs that Luna's youth enjoyed. When Tintoretto escorted him down the stage, his face and hair was glistening with beads of sweat. He smiled and shook hands with the teens and young adults who offered him their praise. It took a few minutes for Albert to register that the singer was being taken his way.
"Monsieur Herrera, it is a pleasure that you could come to our little establishment. I am Claudio Tintoretto, the owner of La Decadenza," the Italian gushed, but not before dubiously eyeing the younger man's attire. "Please allow me to introduce to you our star, Etienne Delacroix."
There was a look of shock on Etienne's face, seeing Albert in the very place that he had forbidden him to go to. Albert, however, maintained a veneer of calm. Instead of shaking the hand that the singer offered, he took it in his open palm and gave the gloved fingertips a dainty kiss. A blush quickly went up Etienne's cheeks.
Thankfully, the lights in the club were too dim for Tintoretto to see how flustered his talent had become. With a bow, he said to Albert, "I shall leave Etienne in your capable hands, Monsieur."
When the Italian finally left them alone, Albert pulled back a chair and the singer sank down on it. Before his friend could get settled down, Etienne exclaimed in disbelief, "Are you insane, Albert? What are you doing here?" With a grimace, the singer added, "And why are you dressed like a penguin?"
"I told you I wanted to see you perform at La Decadenza, so here I am," was Albert's simple answer. "As for my attire, I thought I'd make a nice impression on you. I didn't know I could wear something casual tonight. Still, don't I look dashing?" He even made a sweeping gesture to himself that infuriated the Nightingale.
"Isn't it enough that I sing for you at the Order?"
"But this is different. I doubt if you could sing those songs you just sang in church. Sister Bertrille would be scandalized. I must admit that I never imagined that you could sing such bawdy tunes."
Etienne snorted, as he crossed his arms over his chest, gravely offended. "So you think me a heathen now because I sing 'bawdy tunes'. Excuse me, Monsieur Herrera, but I am an artiste, and whatever songs I choose to sing are my business. Besides, what kind of singer would I be if I don't expand my repertoire? May I also add that I happen to like heathen music, so there!"
"Forgive me, Etienne," Albert said with all the sincerity he could muster. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that I was really surprised. I never knew you could…dance…so well."
The singer was not convinced by that apology. "I know what's on your mind, Monsieur Herrera. You're thinking that I dance like a harlot!"
"Well…I…" Albert scratched his head. "Are we just going to quarrel the whole night? Or is the real reason why you're angry is because I'm here?"
Etienne's features softened at those entreaties. "Do you have any idea of what could happen to the two of us if Tintoretto should find out that we know each other?"
"I won't tell him if you won't."
Seeing that he could not convince the grinning young man to leave the club, he breathed out a sigh of defeat. "Just how much money did you pay to get into this place anyway?"
"Secret." Albert gave the Nightingale a wink. "Why do you ask?"
"You know the reason why! Well…shall I be escorting you up to the lounge later?"
"HUH?" Realizing what the singer was telling him, Albert turned beet red from the tips of his toes to his head. "Oh, no, no! I just…uhm…wanted to talk to you, that's all."
"You wanted to talk and it can't wait till Sunday…" Etienne gave his friend a warm smile. "You're hopeless, Albert Herrera!"
Albert laughed at that remark. "Most of my friends call me that."
The next hour and a half, the two men did just that. They talked, chatted about nothing in particular. Except for the noisier environment, it was like they were having their usual tryst at the Order. Tintoretto, thankfully, did not suspect anything, believing their lively discussion to be merely a chat between new acquaintances.
Then, something sparked inside Albert's mind. It was an outrageous thought, but he was feeling a little daring. It must be because of the alcohol he had drunk. Even Etienne's cheeks were rosy.
"Hey, Etienne!" Albert asked the singer. "Can that band play something else other than that barbaric music?"
"Yes, all you need to do is ask. What do you have in mind anyway?"
At that reply, Albert leaped to his feet. Grabbing Etienne's hand, he all but dragged the surprised singer on to the dance floor. Frowning, Etienne saw his friend tap the guitar player's leg and whisper something in his ear. For a moment, the musician gave Albert an odd look. Still, he nodded and he exchanged hurried murmurs with the rest of his band mates.
"What are you up to, Albert?" Etienne asked suspiciously.
The answer came to him as a guitar trill. Then, Albert pulled Etienne close to him, that their bodies touched, taking the Nightingale's right hand with his left and extending it to the side. Albert's right hand held Etienne's trim waist.
"Care to tango with me, my songbird?" Albert whispered gamely in the singer's ear as he pressed his body against him.
"And you think me a heathen?" Etienne murmured huskily. "Do you have any idea just how scandalous a dance the tango is?"
With a graceful twist, Albert swung the singer around, letting Etienne slide to the floor, with his left knee bent and his right leg extended, toe pointed.
The Nightingale gazed up at the grinning young man. "You are indeed a pirate, Albert Herrera!"
"And you are my captive, Etienne Delacroix."
Everyone cleared the dance floor as the two men began to dance, with Albert leading the singer into a salida, four quick starting side steps, going to the middle of the dance floor. Stopping, he swept Etienne's right foot in an arc on the floor, before reaching down to take the singer's thigh and press against his hip. Etienne wickedly curled his long limb around Albert's legs. Albert spun Etienne around two, three times before capturing his hand and waist again to lead him into a caminata or slow walk.
Albert proved to be an excellent leader and Etienne an observant follower as they went through the intricacies of the dance. At one point, the couple parted. Albert went down on one knee, clapping his hand, while Etienne danced the bolero around him with sharp taps of his toes on the floor. Already, the youths in the crowd were cheering the dancers on.
So engrossed were they in the dance that they did not notice a dark shadow enter the club, stopping to observe them with growing anger and seething hatred. Tintoretto hurried to welcome the newcomer, but the club owner was pushed aside, as the man approached the dance floor.
At that precise moment that the two men executed parting side steps with their arms extended, Etienne's right hand was suddenly seized, wrenching him away from Albert's grasp. Before the singer knew what was happening, he was swept into the embrace of another man. A man whom, to his great shock, he never expected to see so soon.
Albert was stunned to immobility as Etienne was led into a corrida, the couple spinning around and around the dance floor. The music came to an abrupt halt, and the intruder swept the singer into a low dip.
The crowd roared with applause. However, as the spotlight was focused upon the three of them, there was nothing but shock on the faces of Albert and Etienne, and an evil smirk on the lips of the man who dared to intrude into their dance.
Sweeping his long blond hair away from his brow, the man greeted, "It's been a long time, Albert. Or should I say the former Viscount d'Morcerf? Oh, but you have a new title now – Monsieur Ambassador to Luna, am I right?"
There was nothing that Albert wanted to do more than to drive his fist into that hated face. "Andrea Cavalcanti!" he hissed in fury.
"So nice of you to remember my name," the faux Marquis replied with a mocking bow. "I have decided to take that name for myself, sans the title. It is better than my old one, don't you think?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Don't you know?" Andrea asked with a raise of his eyebrows. "I happen to be co-owner of La Decadenza. I've been hearing a lot of rumors that I did not like, that is why I returned here to set things straight once and for all."
"Benedetto…I didn't know…" Etienne stammered as he tried to break free from the blond's grasp. But the rogue gave the singer's wrist a painful twist.
"My name is Andrea, and don't you forget it!" he ordered the terrified young man. "Of course I didn't inform you of my arrival. I wanted to surprise you. I never thought that I would be the one to be surprised."
"Stop it, Cavalcanti!" Albert shouted. "You're hurting him!"
"I could do anything I wish with him!" Andrea nudged the singer forward. Already, tears were streaming down Etienne's face. "Tell him what you are to me, Etienne. Tell him!"
The Nightingale was grief-stricken as he gazed into Albert's face. "Benedetto…I mean, Andrea…he is my real lover."
At that declaration, Albert felt as if he had been shot right through the heart.
Andrea was grinning in triumph, seeing the stunned expression on his rival's face. "This is one lover that you will never take from me, Albert de Morcerf. Etienne is mine and mine alone!"
"Albert, please forgive me!" Etienne made to run towards his friend, but Andrea yanked him back with a strong jerk on his arm.
"DON'T HURT HIM!"
Before Albert could lash out at the blond and take the singer away, strong arms seized him. To his anger and dismay, the bouncers were slowly but surely dragging him out of the club.
"ETIENNE! ETIENNE!"
"ALBERT!!"
Albert was thrown out into the street, where rain had started to pour heavily. Picking himself up, he whirled back at the club to see Andrea standing at the doorway, keeping a possessive grip on a weeping Etienne.
"If you know what's good for you, Albert," Andrea called out, "stay away from my precious Nightingale. I would kill him myself before I could let you or any man take him away from me."
At these final words, Andrea Cavalcanti escorted the singer back inside the club, leaving a despondent Albert in the middle of the heavy downpour, screaming out Etienne's name.
It turned out that Friday was the Youth/Dance Night at the club. All the clubbers were attired in casual clothes to make it easier for them to dance to the loud, wild, gyrating music that was being played by the band on stage.
Poor Albert was totally out of place. At the insistence of Bertuccio and Baptistin that he make an impression on Etienne, he decided to go to La Decadenza dressed in a dashing black tuxedo and a smart bowtie around his neck. The minute he entered the club, he was instantly met by looks of amusement. Quite a few of the youths actually laughed.
Hearing a snicker from the table behind him, Albert gulped down his brandy and snarled. "I'm going to kill those two when I get home!" Already, he was dreading the singer's reaction if he saw him in this outfit.
Before he could even think of sneaking out of the club to spare himself from any further embarrassment, the band stopped playing and the emcee announced Etienne's name to the roar of the crowd. Albert found himself plopping right back down on his seat as Luna's Nightingale took center stage to wild applause and the thunderous beating of drums.
Never had Albert seen Etienne like this. The singer was wearing a shimmering silver shirt of silk with black pants so tight that they clung to his long legs. On his feet he wore velvet boots that were just right for dancing. Indeed, Etienne danced and pranced gracefully on stage, his voice not once faltering or missing a beat as he moved. His long hair flowed like a mantle with every twist of his head, every jerk of his body.
Albert stared transfixed. This was a side of Etienne that he never imagined. Raw, sensual, powerful… Already, he could feel a certain part of his anatomy stirring at that shameless display.
Etienne's set consisted of ten numbers – six dance tunes and four love songs that Luna's youth enjoyed. When Tintoretto escorted him down the stage, his face and hair was glistening with beads of sweat. He smiled and shook hands with the teens and young adults who offered him their praise. It took a few minutes for Albert to register that the singer was being taken his way.
"Monsieur Herrera, it is a pleasure that you could come to our little establishment. I am Claudio Tintoretto, the owner of La Decadenza," the Italian gushed, but not before dubiously eyeing the younger man's attire. "Please allow me to introduce to you our star, Etienne Delacroix."
There was a look of shock on Etienne's face, seeing Albert in the very place that he had forbidden him to go to. Albert, however, maintained a veneer of calm. Instead of shaking the hand that the singer offered, he took it in his open palm and gave the gloved fingertips a dainty kiss. A blush quickly went up Etienne's cheeks.
Thankfully, the lights in the club were too dim for Tintoretto to see how flustered his talent had become. With a bow, he said to Albert, "I shall leave Etienne in your capable hands, Monsieur."
When the Italian finally left them alone, Albert pulled back a chair and the singer sank down on it. Before his friend could get settled down, Etienne exclaimed in disbelief, "Are you insane, Albert? What are you doing here?" With a grimace, the singer added, "And why are you dressed like a penguin?"
"I told you I wanted to see you perform at La Decadenza, so here I am," was Albert's simple answer. "As for my attire, I thought I'd make a nice impression on you. I didn't know I could wear something casual tonight. Still, don't I look dashing?" He even made a sweeping gesture to himself that infuriated the Nightingale.
"Isn't it enough that I sing for you at the Order?"
"But this is different. I doubt if you could sing those songs you just sang in church. Sister Bertrille would be scandalized. I must admit that I never imagined that you could sing such bawdy tunes."
Etienne snorted, as he crossed his arms over his chest, gravely offended. "So you think me a heathen now because I sing 'bawdy tunes'. Excuse me, Monsieur Herrera, but I am an artiste, and whatever songs I choose to sing are my business. Besides, what kind of singer would I be if I don't expand my repertoire? May I also add that I happen to like heathen music, so there!"
"Forgive me, Etienne," Albert said with all the sincerity he could muster. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that I was really surprised. I never knew you could…dance…so well."
The singer was not convinced by that apology. "I know what's on your mind, Monsieur Herrera. You're thinking that I dance like a harlot!"
"Well…I…" Albert scratched his head. "Are we just going to quarrel the whole night? Or is the real reason why you're angry is because I'm here?"
Etienne's features softened at those entreaties. "Do you have any idea of what could happen to the two of us if Tintoretto should find out that we know each other?"
"I won't tell him if you won't."
Seeing that he could not convince the grinning young man to leave the club, he breathed out a sigh of defeat. "Just how much money did you pay to get into this place anyway?"
"Secret." Albert gave the Nightingale a wink. "Why do you ask?"
"You know the reason why! Well…shall I be escorting you up to the lounge later?"
"HUH?" Realizing what the singer was telling him, Albert turned beet red from the tips of his toes to his head. "Oh, no, no! I just…uhm…wanted to talk to you, that's all."
"You wanted to talk and it can't wait till Sunday…" Etienne gave his friend a warm smile. "You're hopeless, Albert Herrera!"
Albert laughed at that remark. "Most of my friends call me that."
The next hour and a half, the two men did just that. They talked, chatted about nothing in particular. Except for the noisier environment, it was like they were having their usual tryst at the Order. Tintoretto, thankfully, did not suspect anything, believing their lively discussion to be merely a chat between new acquaintances.
Then, something sparked inside Albert's mind. It was an outrageous thought, but he was feeling a little daring. It must be because of the alcohol he had drunk. Even Etienne's cheeks were rosy.
"Hey, Etienne!" Albert asked the singer. "Can that band play something else other than that barbaric music?"
"Yes, all you need to do is ask. What do you have in mind anyway?"
At that reply, Albert leaped to his feet. Grabbing Etienne's hand, he all but dragged the surprised singer on to the dance floor. Frowning, Etienne saw his friend tap the guitar player's leg and whisper something in his ear. For a moment, the musician gave Albert an odd look. Still, he nodded and he exchanged hurried murmurs with the rest of his band mates.
"What are you up to, Albert?" Etienne asked suspiciously.
The answer came to him as a guitar trill. Then, Albert pulled Etienne close to him, that their bodies touched, taking the Nightingale's right hand with his left and extending it to the side. Albert's right hand held Etienne's trim waist.
"Care to tango with me, my songbird?" Albert whispered gamely in the singer's ear as he pressed his body against him.
"And you think me a heathen?" Etienne murmured huskily. "Do you have any idea just how scandalous a dance the tango is?"
With a graceful twist, Albert swung the singer around, letting Etienne slide to the floor, with his left knee bent and his right leg extended, toe pointed.
The Nightingale gazed up at the grinning young man. "You are indeed a pirate, Albert Herrera!"
"And you are my captive, Etienne Delacroix."
Everyone cleared the dance floor as the two men began to dance, with Albert leading the singer into a salida, four quick starting side steps, going to the middle of the dance floor. Stopping, he swept Etienne's right foot in an arc on the floor, before reaching down to take the singer's thigh and press against his hip. Etienne wickedly curled his long limb around Albert's legs. Albert spun Etienne around two, three times before capturing his hand and waist again to lead him into a caminata or slow walk.
Albert proved to be an excellent leader and Etienne an observant follower as they went through the intricacies of the dance. At one point, the couple parted. Albert went down on one knee, clapping his hand, while Etienne danced the bolero around him with sharp taps of his toes on the floor. Already, the youths in the crowd were cheering the dancers on.
So engrossed were they in the dance that they did not notice a dark shadow enter the club, stopping to observe them with growing anger and seething hatred. Tintoretto hurried to welcome the newcomer, but the club owner was pushed aside, as the man approached the dance floor.
At that precise moment that the two men executed parting side steps with their arms extended, Etienne's right hand was suddenly seized, wrenching him away from Albert's grasp. Before the singer knew what was happening, he was swept into the embrace of another man. A man whom, to his great shock, he never expected to see so soon.
Albert was stunned to immobility as Etienne was led into a corrida, the couple spinning around and around the dance floor. The music came to an abrupt halt, and the intruder swept the singer into a low dip.
The crowd roared with applause. However, as the spotlight was focused upon the three of them, there was nothing but shock on the faces of Albert and Etienne, and an evil smirk on the lips of the man who dared to intrude into their dance.
Sweeping his long blond hair away from his brow, the man greeted, "It's been a long time, Albert. Or should I say the former Viscount d'Morcerf? Oh, but you have a new title now – Monsieur Ambassador to Luna, am I right?"
There was nothing that Albert wanted to do more than to drive his fist into that hated face. "Andrea Cavalcanti!" he hissed in fury.
"So nice of you to remember my name," the faux Marquis replied with a mocking bow. "I have decided to take that name for myself, sans the title. It is better than my old one, don't you think?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Don't you know?" Andrea asked with a raise of his eyebrows. "I happen to be co-owner of La Decadenza. I've been hearing a lot of rumors that I did not like, that is why I returned here to set things straight once and for all."
"Benedetto…I didn't know…" Etienne stammered as he tried to break free from the blond's grasp. But the rogue gave the singer's wrist a painful twist.
"My name is Andrea, and don't you forget it!" he ordered the terrified young man. "Of course I didn't inform you of my arrival. I wanted to surprise you. I never thought that I would be the one to be surprised."
"Stop it, Cavalcanti!" Albert shouted. "You're hurting him!"
"I could do anything I wish with him!" Andrea nudged the singer forward. Already, tears were streaming down Etienne's face. "Tell him what you are to me, Etienne. Tell him!"
The Nightingale was grief-stricken as he gazed into Albert's face. "Benedetto…I mean, Andrea…he is my real lover."
At that declaration, Albert felt as if he had been shot right through the heart.
Andrea was grinning in triumph, seeing the stunned expression on his rival's face. "This is one lover that you will never take from me, Albert de Morcerf. Etienne is mine and mine alone!"
"Albert, please forgive me!" Etienne made to run towards his friend, but Andrea yanked him back with a strong jerk on his arm.
"DON'T HURT HIM!"
Before Albert could lash out at the blond and take the singer away, strong arms seized him. To his anger and dismay, the bouncers were slowly but surely dragging him out of the club.
"ETIENNE! ETIENNE!"
"ALBERT!!"
Albert was thrown out into the street, where rain had started to pour heavily. Picking himself up, he whirled back at the club to see Andrea standing at the doorway, keeping a possessive grip on a weeping Etienne.
"If you know what's good for you, Albert," Andrea called out, "stay away from my precious Nightingale. I would kill him myself before I could let you or any man take him away from me."
At these final words, Andrea Cavalcanti escorted the singer back inside the club, leaving a despondent Albert in the middle of the heavy downpour, screaming out Etienne's name.
* * * * * * * * * *