“Seriously, I had the best time with you. It’s been magical. I don’t want you to ever think you have to spend money on me for me to be happy. It makes me happy just to spend time with you.”
Unfortunately, that only seemed to make things worse. The tension in the car thickened. Her stomach churned. She had no idea why she was upsetting him, but it hurt. Physically hurt. She felt sick. She’d had the best time she’d ever had, and yet he seemed to be angry with her.
“When I buy something for you, Zelie, you don’t throw it back in my face.” He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, yanking open her door. There was thunder on his face. Disapproval.
She had definitely triggered his temper, but she had no idea why. Not just his temper, but his smoldering disapproval. He looked at her as if she were a complete stranger. He did help her from the car, ignoring the earring altogether, but he didn’t put his hand on her back or touch her at all when he walked her up to the door. He was silent as she put in the security code and stepped inside, turning to thank him again. He was already walking away. He didn’t look back, or even at her, when he got behind the wheel of the car. She knew because she remained right at the door watching until he drove off.
FOUR
He’d blown it big-time, all because he couldn’t keep it together. Maestro needed to feel the wind in his face and his colors on his back. He needed a reset. Grounding. Torpedo Ink grounded him. His Harley-Davidson Iron 883 grounded him. He’d purchased the machine in 2017. Black leather seat, parchment cream paint, blacked-out chrome and trim with black-and-gold music note stenciling—his ride felt like home to him. Mechanic and Transporter had turned the Harley into a road rocket.
He made the ride back down the coast to Caspar, even though he needed to stay in San Francisco. That was how fucked up Zelie had managed to get him. He wasn’t physically attracted to women without ordering his cock to cooperate. That was part of his extensive sexual training back at the school of hell. His cock didn’t seem to get that message around her.
Maestro had to ask himself if Azelie Vargas could have been trained in the art of seduction. He knew better. That was the sad truth. He knew she was innocent when it came to men. She was no seductress; he was simply that susceptible to her. If he had any sense of self-preservation, hewould get as far from her as possible. Tell his club it was too dangerous for him to go anywhere near Zelie.
A relationship with him was equally as dangerous for her. He wasn’t a nice man. He never would be. He could be gentle when needed, but he didn’t know if that was who he was or if he’d trained to deceive everyone around him. Deep inside, there was an explosive assassin willing to cut throats without warning. Willing to do whatever it took to get the job done.
Swearing, Maestro pulled up to the house he had purchased with his share of the money the club had taken from the billionaire president of the Swords club. He had been the primary criminal in an international human trafficking ring. He had also inherited billions when his older brother died. Torpedo Ink, meaning Code, had managed to siphon the money from all his accounts, even the ones he thought well hidden.
Maestro had discovered the property when the members of the club had all been assigned to go house hunting. Czar wanted them to put down roots in the Caspar/Sea Haven area. He didn’t think sleeping at the clubhouse was best for them. Those without partners tended to do so even though they’d each purchased a house. They were used to guarding one another’s backs. His job, the way he saw it, along with Keys’, was to guard Steele, their vice president. He spent a lot of time sleeping at Steele’s home. That meant his house was empty.
What was there to go home to? It was a cool house, but it wasn’t a home yet. He’d watched Breezy transform Steele’s house into a home. Anya had done the same for Reaper’s house. There was no question that each of his married brothers or those with partners had homes instead of houses. Maestro was intelligent enough to know it didn’t matter how cool the house was, or how much he liked the design; living alone, for someone who had spent their entire life with others, didn’t work.
The unique design of the house had drawn his attentionimmediately. The roofline was sharply slanted so that it appeared to cover the house like the wings of a bird. The house itself was all glass and wood. The glass allowed the light in, and the wood spoke to him. Gave him that semblance of peace he needed. The ceilings of the single-story house were extremely high, with banks of windows and oddly shaped but cool tubular skylights allowing the light to come in from every angle. Fortunately, the glass was self-cleaning, or he would have spent his every waking minute trying to keep up with the dust or dirt from the trees and garden. Or the salt from the sea.
The house was situated in a perfect location for him. He had views of the ocean, although he wasn’t as close to it as some of the others. He liked the location because he was partially in the forest. Various species of trees were abundant on the property. There was a garden area.
His deck surrounded the house and gave plenty of opportunity to entertain, not that he was a man who invited others over for barbecue. When he wasn’t with Keys or Steele, or at the clubhouse, he played music. He wrote music. He could spend hours sitting at a piano. He had a beautiful piano in his house, one perfectly tuned and adjusted. It was the first thing he’d purchased for the house.
He needed the solace of his music. That was just as important as the ride on his Harley. Maestro didn’t ever try to fool himself about what he was. Or who he was. He knew he was controlling. He also knew any woman living with him would feel suffocated under that tight control. Men like him, with his personality, didn’t find women who would stay. Who could love them despite their flaws.
He opened the large front double doors and stood there a moment, admiring the craftmanship of the design and the impeccable work that had gone into building the house. The doors opened straight into an enormous room, revealing the high ceilings and woodwork as well as a step down to the seating area in front of the fireplace. The wall of windows and glass sliding door leading outside to the deck werevisible, giving him a partial view of the trees while standing at the front door.
He moved inside and closed the doors behind him. There was only one place he wanted to be—seated at his piano. Thinking of Zelie. Writing a song for her. Deciding, once he was back to normal and could use his brain to think things through, whether to take a chance on finding a real relationship with her. That was if he hadn’t already blown his chances with her.
The moment his fingers were on the piano keys, and as he flooded the room with music, he could breathe again. His mind calmed. The chaos in his head receded along with the howling demons. He allowed himself to go through the time he had spent with Zelie moment by moment. Azelie Vargas could be the perfect woman for a man like Maestro.
He had excellent recall, and he examined what he’d learned about her. She was giving. A pleaser. Her pleasure was in pleasing him. She had worn the clothes he’d sent to her, even though they made her uncomfortable, because he’d asked her to. Each time he had reassured her with his touch or voice, she had responded positively.
She was generous with others even though she didn’t appear to have much. She actively pursued higher education, and she’d been honest when she spoke of Billows’ strange mood swings. He’d noticed those same shifts in disposition each time he’d met the man. Granted, it was only a couple of times, but the man had been jovial and friendly one day and standoffish the next.
He went over every detail of their conversations. Several times she hadn’t wanted to tell him personal things, but she had when he just simply looked disappointed. The thing was, he hadn’t been playing her—hewasdisappointed. He not only found himself intensely attracted to her physically, but he wanted to know everything there was to know about her. Strangely, he had an overwhelming need to protect her. To keep her safe. To make her happy.
Being with him would never be a picnic, and shedeserved so much better. That was one of the many things he had to face. If he managed to convince her to take him on, was it even fair to her? The answer was no. Still, he was selfish enough to take into consideration how he would feel if he didn’t try with her.
Maestro wasn’t used to having emotions, let alone the intensity of these feelings he had for Azelie. He hadn’t trusted her or his own emotions. The moment she attempted to return the earrings to him, he had been horrified at his reaction to her. He wanted her with every cell in his body. He wanted to keep her. To make her his exclusively. Alarm rushed through him, so much adrenaline he couldn’t control it.
At the same time, he wanted to be away from her, desperate to convince himself she was a betrayer like every other woman he’d known—with the exception of Alena and Lana. Out for themselves. Greedy and conniving. Or unable to follow the slightest command because their egos refused to acknowledge that he might know more about security than they did.
The music flowed through him, a soft, intimate melody, and he could hear the lyrics building in his mind. His music never lied to him. If it told him she was real, she was. The longer he played, the more he felt her wrapping herself around his soul. It was a frightening sensation for him, and yet he didn’t stop playing. He needed to feel her close to him. Imagine her in the house, turning it into a real home. Imagine her waiting for him at the door. Giving him her angelic smile. Giving him whatever he asked for.
He acknowledged to himself he’d never had the same feeling for another human being. He wasn’t a coward. If she had the courage to face him, to answer personal questions and go that far out of her comfort zone for him, he couldn’t do less for her.
He’d vowed never to pursue a woman or trust one outside the club, and he had good reason, but he realized he wasn’t willing to give Zelie up. Not without a fight. That was thebottom line. He needed to see her again. He had to know if there was any chance at all for him to have a real relationship with her. The idea of cutting her out of his life so abruptly without even giving them a chance was unacceptable to him.
“Where does that leave us?” he murmured aloud.
He played for another five minutes without stopping, listening carefully to the perfectly pitched notes telling him he was on the right track. He waited for the answers, the music freeing his mind as his fingers flew over the ivory keys.
