Jonathan opened the velvet curtains with an accustomed swish and entered his private box at the Royal Opera House. His chocolate brown eyes widened expectantly, taking a second or two to adjust to the gloomy darkness beyond. The lights dimmed further as the last remnants of hushed conversations washed over the patrons and then expired slowly as the orchestra started playing the first movement.

He found his plush seat quickly and noiselessly. He ran his fingers over the armrest while sliding into it and revelled again in it’s luxurious opulence. ... I just love that smell of drama he thought to himself as the Allegro giusto crescendoed.

Up to today events had transpired that prevented him from attending but compared to tonight all else paled to insignificance. Roberta Marquez had been injured during last night’s performance and today her understudy, his daughter would be performing.

Captivated he waited for her entrance and his heart pounded so loudly, that he was afraid his chair would shake to pieces.