At that second, there came a polite double-rap on the dressing room door, followed by an immediate voice: "Ms. Daee? It's Michael."
He'd spent some small amount of time with the soprano ingenue and found her company pleasant enough. He wasn't here for a social call, however.
Waiting with an arm full of roses and notes collected from the audience, along with a long-stemmed red rose tied with a black ribbon, he waited at her door.