“Who the fuck is he?” I ask the first staff member I see, not caring that I don’t appear civilized anymore.
“Thomas Folly. He’s a world-renowned violinist.”
And now I have a name to put on my shit list. Once you’re there, you’re not getting off it alive.
“And what does he do here?”
Except for wanting to charm my woman. But fuck, she isn’t my woman. Haven’t I insisted I want someone normal for her, someone who is not in our lifestyle? I was under the influence of ignorance. Sure as fuck seeing it play before my eyes doesn’t sound as good or workable anymore.
As they keep talking, her agent walks over to me, looking smug.
“It’s going to be a magical night. These two together on a stage. Such a shame it’s on this scale, but I have hope they will perform together in New York at the Met or Lincoln Center.”
This is news to me, so I stare at Dahlia disappearing behind the curtain to get ready for her big entry. She deserves this. To play on the biggest stages, to be adored by millions. I’ve wanted that for her, but once she’s gone, she will never return. Her infatuation will disappear.
The tip of Ramona’s nose crinkles. “I hope you won’t interfere.”
A muscle in my jaw twitches. “Watch your fucking tone.”
Am I rude? Sure. But she has always pissed me off with her condescending attitude, watching me as if my presence offends her.
She clutches her silk blouse, mumbling something under her breath. “I don’t get what she sees in you.”
I get in her face. “And let’s get one thing clear. I want only the fucking best for her.”
Incapable of holding my gaze for long, her face drops. “Then let her go.”
“I’m not keeping her here.”
She was always destined to leave me.
Dahlia doesn’t just play the piano, she creates heavenly music that takes you on a journey as if your soul leaves your body. Accompanied by that guy who is not as talented as her, but they complement each other well, I realize that’s her place—on stage with someone like him.
I need to get out of here before I ruin any chance of her escaping me. But this is my punishment, watching and imagining someone else giving her the life I can’t, even if I wanted to.
When the concert ends, I expect her to search for me like she always does, but this time she seeks Tristan out. Jealousy ravages me—a dragon spitting balls of fire and setting my insides ablaze. Between two green monsters, they box me in, obliterating my control.
Nostrils flaring, I try and fail to gather my composure.
Tonight of all nights, she decided to stay longer, basking in the attention. Everyone stops to congratulate her, and I follow behind until she heads to the bar, drinking wine with the violinist. By the time I reach her, my patience evaporates in wisps of smoke just like my rationality.
I know she feels me behind her. It’s in the goose bumps peppering her nape. The half talented asshole peers at me, furrowing his brows.
I can hear her sigh before she turns to me, narrowing her eyes into two cutting slits.
I offer her my most charming smile.
She rolls her eyes, loving to provoke me.
I crack my neck, reaching my breaking point.
She disregards the dangerous vibe I emanate and smiles to my face while curling her arm around his elbow. She wants to play this game? Fine with fucking me. My face twists with a surely manic expression reflecting my insides. I’ll chop the limb off and shove it down his fucking throat. She must read my mind because she quickly drops her hold. Too fucking late, baby girl.
She clears her throat. “Thomas, this is Mikail, my brother’s best friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” he smiles awkwardly, sensing the tension between us that is hotter than the Sahara in the middle of summer.
I grip his hand. Yanking him to me and away from her, I apply bone-deep pressure. He hisses, and she glares at me, so I reluctantly let go of his precious hand while I look at mine, which draws blood instead of creating music. He’s the better choice, but fuck if I care about that right now.
