“I have homework to finish anyway,” Dalia said, much to the delight of those two smug fuckers beside me.
My throat tightened further, the pistachio still wreaking havoc. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Maybe.” She smiled back, heading toward her dormitory. “Thanks for the cakes.”
We made a sharp U-turn, heading in the opposite direction toward our lair.
“Didn’t know you had a heart beating underneath,” Cillian mocked.
“I bet he has blue balls by now.” Kay, for once, agreed with him.
What I felt for Dalia wasn’t pleasurable, but giving in to it was less painful. “Shut up, both of you.”
“I thought you wanted to ruin her and her father and all that crap?” Kay raised a brow. “Imagine her daddy’s face when he finds out you banged his precious daughter.”
The mention of Mercier soured my mood. “It’s more than a fuck, and she’s not his.”
“Be careful. It looks like you’re losing control.”
I ignored Cillian’s warning.
Dalia Mercier belonged to me.
The phone’s beeps pierced the quiet of my dorm as I waited for my father and Grandma to answer the FaceTime call. Fidgeting nervously, I reached down to smooth the lace edges of my blouse, carefully tucking them beneath the flowing, rippling layers of my fluffy pink skirt.
Finally, the beeps ceased, and Grandma’s face lit up the screen. “My flower, we were just thinking about you. We’re back from the cemetery.”
Through the screen, I glimpsed both Grandma and Dad crossing the threshold of our house, clad in somber black outfits. I immediately noticed Dad’s guarded face. The faint downturn of his lips and the distant look in his eyes betrayed the sorrow he sought to conceal.
“How are you, Dad? I called because I was thinking about you both.”
“We’re fine,” Dad responded with a hint of forced pride. He had gone to see Mom’s grave. How could he be fine? “How was your gala? Apparently, you made quite a sensation in the quartet or in that dress of yours.”
Grandma shot Dad a pointed glance, as she always did to reprimand him.
“It went well,” I said, tugging on my low ponytail. “I’m sorry about the dress. I—”
“Sylas has already apologized. He wanted to offer you a gift, but he understands it might have been misplaced,” my fatherpointed out in his usual condescending business tone. “I hope you both still reasonably enjoyed yourselves.”
I smiled and mentally thanked Sylas for covering for me with my dad. He must have spent a long time trying to calm him down.
“We’re so happy you’re loving it here,” Grandma added cheerfully.
“Right,” my father cut in. “We wanted to wait until we saw you to tell you the good news, but why wait?”
My pulse quickened. “Oh. What is it?”
“I had a call with the Parisian Opera,” Dad announced, his voice tinged with pride. “We discussed your impressive performance and studies, and they apparently have a vacant spot for a violinist in their orchestra in January. She’ll email you the details this week. You could come back home, or even stay at Sylas’s father’s house. He lives right under the Opera. I’m sure Sylas would visit if things get more serious, plus he’ll be done with Pantheon soon. All has been arranged.”
My jaw clenched. I had entered Pantheon thanks to my father’s legacy, not because I deserved it. I was privileged. Dad was just trying to buy my way in so he could have control over me for another year, possibly for the rest of my life.
You’re not fit for the orchestra.I remembered Levi’s voice. I wanted to be a soloist, a composer, like Lucie. Most importantly, I wanted to prove that I could make it on my own. I won’t rest until I perform at Pantheon’s Opera.
“But… I still have so much to learn, and I love it here at Pantheon,” I said, mustering my resolve. “But thank you, Dad, for supporting me.”
Pantheon was mine. My chance to make my own legacy. My promise to Mom.
“I thought you wanted to come to Pantheon for music, and now, this opportunity, it’s once in a lifetime. I won’t be able to pull another—”
