“Youclean it up,” I shot back. “You’re the one who tripped me. Do you think it’s fun to pick on people, Dorien? You’re like a spoiled only child throwing his toys out of the sandbox because he doesn’t want to share.”
Dorien’s eyes flashed at me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I snorted. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. Are you so afraid that I’ll beat you? Why are you evenhere, anyway? International career not going so well?”
Something inside Dorien snapped. I knew I’d got to him; I just didn’t know how or why. I clenched my hands into fists, ready to drive the knife deeper, desperate to hurt Dorien the way his insults hurt me, when Madame Usher entered the room. Her eyes immediately fell on the stain on the floor. “Miss de Winter, can you not perform one task without spillage?”
“Dorien tripped me deliberately—”
“You are accusing Dorien Valencourt to cover up your incompetence.” Madame Usher flashed me with her cold smile. “Dorien has thousands of adoring fans waiting for him on the other side of Manderley’s walls. He has no need to resort to petty pranks. You will clean that immediately. And then you will go to your room and think about whether you really want to be here.”
“But the audition—”
“You will not be auditioning.”
Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. It was one thing to be ordered around like a servant. I could handle that if it meant Mom was safe. But to be deprived of this opportunity because of Dorien’s assholery? I gulped back the venom that danced on my tongue.
Madame Usher took a seat on the velvet chaise under the window, spreading her skirts around her. “Hop to it, girl. There’s carpet cleaner under the dresser. You better not be here when Master Radcliffe returns.”
“Yes, Madame.”
I loathe you. Ihateyou.
Mocking eyes burned into me as I knelt down and located the spray. On my hands and knees, I scrubbed at the stain. Above my head, Dorien and Heather held court, clinking their glasses together as they gloated over my humiliation.
“Too bad you can’t whip insolent slaves anymore,” Dorien mused, and there was a wicked edge to his voice that made something warm and wanton slither down my spine and pool between my legs. I hated him so much in that moment, but not as much as I hated myself for wanting him.
“Trash like her is probably gagging for it,” Heather giggled. My ears rang with rage. “What a waste of perfectly decent port.”
“It’s not a waste. There’s a fine view from over here,” Titus’ murmur reached my ears.
His friends laughed. My cheeks burned with humiliation. I stood, smoothing the front of my dress, now creased and covered with fluff from the rug, and tucked the cloth into my pocket just as Master Radcliffe entered again, his shirt swapped out for a new one. He sat behind the piano and indicated for Dorien to begin. I hovered by the door, my violin clasped at my chest, hoping Madame had changed her mind and—
“Get out,” she rasped. “For your insolence, you will be confined to the school grounds this weekend. Allowing the use of Harrison for driving is a privilege, not a right.”
“But I have to visit my mother—”
“You should have thought of that before you made a mess of my home. Don’t make me regret bringing you here, Miss de Winter.”
The door slammed shut behind me, echoing down the hall.
I slumped against the door, my body vibrating as the first fluttering notes of Dorien’s concerto reverberated through the door. Even when I was part of the most elite music academy in the country, I was still shut out.
I can’t see my mother, and it’s allhisfault.
It would be bearable if Dorien was a shit musician, but when his fingers touched the keys he created magic. He didn’t just play Beethoven, he made love to Beethoven. He fucked Beethoven slow and steady from behind. Dorien made Elena’s performance from the other day seem like a novice.
I tore myself from the door, determined not to give him the satisfaction of listening any longer. Brilliant musician or not, Dorien was intent on seeing me fail, and he’d convinced all the other students to help him. Something Madame Usher said nagged at me.He has no need for petty pranks.
She was right – Dorien had already made a name for himself in the Classical world. He had fame and fortune and groupies galore. He didn’t need Manderley or the prize. And yet, he was going to great lengths to drive me away.
Dorien Valencourt saw me as a threat.
That knowledge bolstered me. I curled my fingers into fists. Dorien may have meant something to me once, but now he was just another hurdle in my way. I’d survived my mother’s mysterious disease – dealing with the Bad Boys of Baroque was nothing compared to that. Not only would I keep my place at the Academy and ensure Mom had the best medical care, but I would finish the year with the Manderley Prize, and I’d rub it in their self-righteous, chiseled, gorgeous faces.
Chapter Fifteen
Faye
