I stay silent for a moment, skimming the varnished wood.
"It's gorgeous," I whisper, as if scared this is all going to go away. "How did you get your hands on this in so little time?"
His fingers delicately push my fringe out of my eyes. He comes a little closer, and I could swear he inhales deeper.
"I'll answer your question if you answer mine."
I don't want to turn to him. He's so close, our lips would touch if I did. So I keep my head bowed, looking at the exceptional instrument in front of me.
"What is it?"
"How come your hair smells like summer and the beach?"
An awkward laugh escapes me, my shoulders feeling light as air for a moment. This hasn't happened in a while.
"My shampoo has monoi in it," I tell him softly. "That's probably what you define as a beach smell."
His nose nudges the side of my head, and I struggle to breathe.
"You taste of bubblegum, and you smell of summer. No wonder I'm starting to get addicted."
"Don't say that," I snap through his daydreaming.
I force myself to ignore the fact that my stomach is liquifying at his closeness. There's a woody and amber scent to him, and an underlying hint of cigarettes.
"Answer my question," I carry on, not wanting to stay in this state of limbo. Every second that passes, I'm at risk of turning my head and pressing my lips against the devil's.
"I know people," he answers simply.
"Care to expand? I have a feeling we don't know the same kind of people."
His hand wraps around my neck, and panic surges through me. Strangely, the feeling disappears as fast as it came. As if my body recognizes Achilles. The man who, on Friday, kept his promise when he said he wouldn't hurt me. In fact, he did the opposite.
"Have you ever heard of Giovanni Carbalacci?"
I roll my eyes. "Do you know any violinist who hasn't?"
"Smart mouth." He chuckles. "His son, Alessandro, was a leftie who thought he was too special to play like everyone else. So Giovanni had a custom violin made for him. But the fucker ended up being a capital investor instead, so he doesn't really play. Anyway, the whole family are my family's neighbors in Stoneview. I know Giovanni's grandson, Alessandro's son, really well. His name is Dante, and he's an exceptional cello player. He plays for the New York Philharmonic."
"Holy shit," I croak. "We definitely don't know the same kind of people. The most precious thing my neighbor Roberta owns is her shotgun."
"We don't know the same people, but your neighbor protected you when she saw you were in trouble. Giovanni and his family would throw us to the wolves if we weren't mutually useful."
I deny his statement with a shake of my head. "Dante must be a really good friend if he gave you a one-of-a-kind violin, though."
He throws his head back, his hand still on me, cackling. "He didn't gift it to me, Nyx. I bought it off him. Nothing comes for free in a world where we can buy anything we want."
It takes all of me not to slam the case shut. I shouldn't be holding this instrument in my hands. Fuck, I shouldn't even be in the same room as it without it being behind a protective glass. This is amuseumkind of instrument.
"But this is priceless," I finally say.
"Everyone has a price."
"How much did you pay for it?" I ask shakily.
"I'm not telling you or you won't take it."
"I'm already not taking it."
