I’m angry that I kidnapped her.
I’m completely transported, swept up in the song and her near flawless playing. I’m watching the summer storm represented by the song, seeing the lightning, hearing the thunder.
When it’s done, I’m speechless. She looks at me and smiles, wiping away fresh tears of happiness from her cheeks. But I don’t go to her. I can’t move.
“How did you do that?” I ask finally. “I thought you haven’t played for years?”
“This is the one piece I’ve practiced every day,” she tells me. “I have it memorized. I only put the sheet music up just in case.”
“How can you practice without a piano?” I ask.
She grins slyly. “Oh, I have ways.”
I stare at her, feeling almost euphoric. A part of me hoped she would run, as much as I want her to stay. She could’ve gone back to her old life. Been free. But she chose to remain here with me. Why?
I want to ask her, but I don’t.
I think it’s because I’m afraid of the answer. Which is odd, because I’m the one who thought up this test in the first place.
For now, though, all that matters is she chose to stay.
20
Angela
Iwipe away the last of the tears. They really are tears of joy. I love this song, and it felt so good to play it again if only to release all my pent-up anger and frustration. It’s one of those songs that’s great for stress relief. I was angry at my father, angry at Massimo, just mad at the world in general for the unfairness of everything. But I’m good now.
He left the patio door open. I think he wanted me to escape. Either that, or he was testing me. I should have probably at least tried to escape, but I didn’t. And I’m not completely sure why.
No, I am sure. But I don’t want to admit it to myself.
I’m growing attached to Massimo, feeling everything I felt for him eight years ago all over again. If we only have one day left together, I want to spend every moment of it with him, and not think about what happens tomorrow. I want it to be the best day ever.
I look at him. He’s never looked quite as hot as he does today. And not just because of how he looks. I mean, sure, his tousled blond hair perfectly complements his face—those perfectly chiseled features wouldn’t be out of place on the statue of a Greek God. And his muscles bulge beneath his black dress shirt, his inked forearms overflowing from the rolled up sleeves as if inviting me to trace their designs with my fingertips. Or my tongue.
Yes, all of those contribute to his overall hotness. But in this moment, it’s his deep, penetrating blue eyes that drive him to the top of the hottie charts. Eyes that can’t decide whether to be full of awe, joy, or tears. There’s an undercurrent of insatiable hunger beneath it all, and I find myself afraid yet aroused at the same time. I wonder what he’s going to do to me.
“I’m not that great at playing the piano, you know,” I tell him, as if the tension between us isn’t obvious. “This song is relatively easy. It has mostly the same recurring patterns. Once you have them down, it’s easy to repeat. You just have to be good with octaves.”
“Uh huh,” he tells me. I blush under his devouring gaze.
I glance toward the main entrance. “You sure no one is coming home soon?”
“No one,” he rasps.
I’m starting to breathe more rapidly.
He walks toward me and I remain absolutely still. He reaches toward me… no, the piano. He shuts the fall board over the keyboard, sealing the keys off so I can’t play it anymore. Then he maneuvers to the side of the grand piano and lifts the main lid with one hand, then folds the lid prop inside to close it. After shutting the lid, he turns toward me and gives me an expectant look.
I wear the most seductive grin I can manage and slowly crawl onto the piano lid. I’m almost ashamed to be treating such an obviously expensive musical instrument so badly, but this is going to be worth it.
I’m still wearing his loose shirt, and I don’t have a bra on underneath, so as I crawl toward him with the collar hanging low, I know he’s getting a full view of my drooping breasts.
As he stares down my shirt his eyes seem distant for a moment, and I realize they’re lingering on my pendant. But then his gaze flicks to my breasts and he returns to the present: desire crowds out all other emotions from his eyes.
He swallows, and I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He blinks, and those beautiful lashes quiver ever so slightly. Funny, how I’m starting to notice all these small little details about him I never did before.
I focus on his eyes, but I can’t hold that wolfish gaze, and turn my attention to the piano instead.
