I crept over, pausing at the door to press my ear against the wood, struggling to hear.
There was a strange noise, like a… I couldn’t explain it. A dull buzz. A flicking sound. Titus grunted.Ah, he’s got a girl in there. Some local woodcutter’s daughter? A scandal worthy of a Broken Muse, for sure.
I smiled to myself. I had him now.
Welcome to your worst nightmare, Titus Thibodeaux.
I shoved the door open and stepped inside.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The buzzing came from a small generator in the corner, belching noxious fumes into a jerry-rigged chimney pointing out a window facing the forest. A pair of lanterns sat on crumbling wooden shelves, their light aimed like twin spotlights at the far wall.
And what they lit up… robbed my lungs of breath.
Titus stood in the lanternlight, legs spread-eagled, flinging his head around in frantic circles so his cornrows flew about like plumage. Headphones covered his ears, and their cord snaked across the floor to a small amplifier and head unit plugged into the generator.
Slung low across his hips, his fingers flying over the strings so fast they were a blur, was a battered Gibson Flying-V electric guitar.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Faye
I stood, frozen by the sight in front of me, my mind casting back to the hours of video I’d seen of Titus on stage, the ferocity of which he stabbed at the cello, that unwieldy instrument putty in his hands.
His eyes flickered open. He saw me standing there, and he leaped so high in the air he smashed his head into the low ceiling of the shack.
“What the fuck?” Titus tore off his headphones and marched toward me, the guitar slapping against his naked chest. His amp emitted a loud buzz.
I swallowed hard. He looked angry as fuck – angry enough to do something…
Well, fuck him.I had a few things to be angry about myself.
“What’s this about, Titus?” I angled my phone toward him, snapping a couple of pictures I could use as security. Because he clearly wanted this a secret, otherwise he wouldn’t be hiding out in a shack in the freezing wind. I hoped the bright flashlight would slow him down if he lunged at me.
“None of your business.” Titus tore the guitar from around his neck and dropped it into a case covered with band stickers, his eyes never leaving my face. His shoulders trembled with rage, and I realized how stupid it was to walk into this remote shack to face off against this guy.
“Wrong.” With more bravado than I felt, I slid my phone into my pocket and patted it with satisfaction. A stack of old tools stood against the wall. I grabbed up a shovel and held it in front of me. “Broken Muse has been trying to ruin my life ever since I arrived at Manderley. After Dorien destroyed my violin, I thought you’d won. But with these photos, I’ve got something on you.”
“What are you going to do?” He narrowed those sinful eyes at me.
“Nothing. For now.” I let a slow smile play across my face. “But if you or your friends do anything else to me, these photographs go straight to Madame Usher. And maybe a few of my friends in the music media.”
“You wouldn’t,” he growled.
“Don’t presume what I would or wouldn’t do.”
I whirled around and flounced away before he could think to come after me.
Outside, my bravado broke down, and my legs shook so badly I had to lean against the woodshed to catch my breath. I dropped the shovel in the dirt and dug out my phone, flicking through the photographs again.
I finally had something on the guys. I held my freedom from their bullying in my hands. But all I could think about was the fear flickering in Titus’ eyes. He was the most intimidating person I’d ever met, so what could make a guy like that so afraid? And why was he playing guitar in secret in an abandoned shack in the first place?
And why did Icare?It couldn’t have been because of that time in his room, when Iswearhis lips brushed mine, where I’d wanted so badly to fall into him and lose myself.
How fucked up did I have to be to crave my bully when I finally had power over him?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Titus
