I wink at her, even though she’s narrowing her eyes at me.
"It takes a lot of talent for people to believe you’re so good you must have sold your soul to the Devil."
I nod, biting my lower lip. The tone in her voice is a mix of desire and awe. She really is attracted to things that are terrifying.
My phone rings again, but my gaze stays on her as I pull it out of my pocket. "No need to keep debating. We both know who the best violinist of all time is."
"If you say–"
"Me," I cut her off.
"You’re so predictable."
I look down at my phone and feel my face harden just before I look at Nyx again. She feels the shift, and her soft voice relaxes me.
"Do you need privacy?" she asks.
Her eyes have been heart shaped since I played for her. Seductive, calling out to me, spoiling me with love. And since she played for the guys from the philharmonic yesterday, her mood has drastically improved. She was perfect; they loved it, and they loved her. I knew she would be perfect. Even though they insisted I be their soloist for the season and Nyx has to finish her two years at SFU, I wanted them to see how magnificent she is.
My phone rings and vibrates in my hand, and Nyx's insistent look brings me back.
I shake my head. "No, but I won't introduce you."
That's the only clue she gets before I pick up.
"Oui, Maman?" Yes, Mom?
I barely have time to register that it isn't my mom's face on the screenwhen Sophie's little voice whispers through the phone.
"Shh." She giggles. "C'est moi!" It's me!she says much louder, already forgetting she told me to be quiet."Moi j'ai volé le telephone de Maman,moi."I stole Mom's phone.
I pinch my lips not to laugh, my heart squeezing and proving to me once more that it exists. No one, and I mean no one, outside of Sophie had ever made me feel like my heart is so present. Until Nyx.
The love is different, but fuck, it's strong. Stupidly strong.
"Crapule." I chuckle. "What are you doing with Mom's phone?"
I try to speak English to her as much as I can because my mother doesn't do it, and Sophie’s only been to the US twice. She was born and is growing up in France.
"I miss you, Achilles. I miss you. I miss you." That's about as far as her English goes, but it fucks with me enough that guilt rips through my gut.
The way she says my name in the French way, Ah-sheel, pulls at my heartstrings. Everything dangerous I ever do is for Sophie. Everything my mom expects of me is for her too. She has no idea how hard we're working for her safety.
"I know,"I whisper. "I miss you too."
"My papa say no call you." She points the finger at the screen, and I feel a fury like no other at that guy deciding anything. My fingers grip the phone tighter, and there's no hiding my true feelings.
"Donne le telephone à Maman,"I say with a smile on my face.Give the phone to Mom.
"J'ai peur. Tu fais peur!" she answers in a squeak.I'm scared. You're scary!
I take a deep breath, knowing my smile isn't reassuring at all, so I drop it.
"Just give the phone to Mom, please, my love."
There's running, a blurred screen, some surprise noises in French. And then my mother appears.
"Achilles? C'est toi qui a appelé?" Achilles, are you the one who called?
