"What was that, Nyx?" he asks with a flat voice. There's no disappointment, but I can still feel the sting.
"My hand hurts," I say weakly. "And I missed last Monday, so I'm still catching up."
"No." And this time, the firmness in the tone makes me want to die on the spot.
I hear him come forward, but he's still in the shadows.
"Nothinghurtswhen you play, and you know that. You're too taken by the music and the feelings it brings. You're possessed by it. The only way your hand would affect your talent is if something's broken or strained, and it wouldn't be from the pain but from the physical mechanism not functioning. Is that the case? Is something wrong with your fingers, your hands, or your wrist apart from the pain from the cuts?"
I shake my head, shame burning my cheeks.
"Give me words when I take the time to help you improve."
God, I'm starting to think I was taking the casual, mocking man who nothing affects for granted. This is serious Achilles, the violinist, and it's scarier than the man who's been after me.
"No, there's nothing wrong," I croak.
"No," he confirms. "What'swrongis that, as always, you're stuck asking yourself what everyone thinks of you. If it's not because you think you don't belong here, it's because you wonder what they think happened to your face. What sordid stories they're making up in their heads about the girl from the North Shore. You lose your focus wondering if you're talented enough to play on a priceless violin I gifted you. You miss a note because your brain is too busy asking if you deserve the compliments I give you, or that I believeyoushould be our soloist."
"I—"
"My statement had no questions. It didn't require an answer. It required change, and I want it right now, Nyx. I'm not playing around when it comes to your dream. Are you?"
I blink at the blinding light, completely lost as to where he even is anymore. Mouth opening and closing like a fish. Since my music teacher died in high school, no one has ever believed in my dream like he has. Certainly not Chase. I've been on my own when it comes to fighting for it.
"Thatrequired an answer," he points out when I stay quiet.
"I'm not playing around," I whisper in a way that betrays my lack of confidence.
"But you are. You're not trusting yourself. You can't even tell me with your gut that you believe in yourself. You'rescared, Nyx. Like always. You're carrying that anxiety on your shoulders that stops you from breathing. How do you expect to play well if you're not breathing? How will you show all those rich kids that you deserve your seat in this orchestra way more than they do. They've had private lessons since they were three. They were bought the best equipment. They can throw their instruments in the trash tonight and have a better one by tomorrow morning. Because money and nepotism will get themanythingthey want. That's where their confidence comes from. Doesn't that make you hungry to show them what you're capable of?"
I hear him move toward the stairs to the stage, the energy flowing with him.
"I'm going to help you get rid of that anxiety."
He appears on stage, crossing the curtain of light, and I finally recognize that devilish smirk.
"And, baby, you're going to hate how I do it."
I take a step back when he approaches me, hitting my neighbor's chair.
"You can stop trying to get away now. It's not happening. Instead, why don't you turn around, press your palms on the seat of your chair, and lift that skirt up for me."
"What?" The word wheezes out of my lungs. "Are you insane? I’m not…I’m not doingthat."
"Trust me. I know what'll get that fear out of your mind,mon trésor. I've had time to study you."
He stops by the conductor's platform, picking up her stick.
"Oh." An awkward laugh leaves me, not even wanting to believe where my brain is taking me. "You stay away from me with that thing."
"Remember when I fingered you on my desk? How scared you were and how hard you came?"
"Achilles…"
He moves closer, too slowly.
"And remember your little trembling body when I broke into your house and fucked you while your boyfriend was sleeping next to you? Sorry.Ex-boyfriend."
