My ears perked up. Mom and I used to attend performances all the time. When we were well-off she was a patron of the orchestra, and I danced with her at many a gala ball under glittering chandeliers. Even in a room filled with stuffy rich dickweasels, my mother wasn’t afraid to scorch the floorboards and draw the eye of every man in the room. A Wall Street banker once interrupted us mid tango to propose marriage to her.
Going without her would feel… about as shit as everything else I had to do without her, but it would be wonderful to be immersed in the music and remind myself what I was fighting for.
“As punishment for certain misdeeds, Ivan and Dorien will stay behind.” Madame raised her nose in the air. “And, of course, Faye is much too busy with her chores to attend.”
Ivan shot a glance at Elena, his fork clattering out of his hand. Elena placed her fingers over his. “I can’t go without Ivan,” she said, eyes meeting Madame’s in a showdown of wills. Her wispy voice robbed her of the power in her sapphire gaze, and she quickly gave in, dropping her eyes to her plate.
“Don’t be daft. You’re a grown woman who can live without your brother for a night. What will happen when you’re touring solo?” Ivan was shaking. Madame glared around the table, daring someone to challenge her. “The rest of you, be ready to depart at 10AM sharp Saturday morning. I’ve already booked hotel rooms in the city.”
Not getting to go to the gala didn’t bother me nearly as much as an entire weekend alone with Dorien and Ivan. I took an armload of plates into the kitchen, and when I returned to finish clearing the table, I noticed Dorien and Heather whispering together at the other end of the hall. Heather jerked her thumb in my direction, her voice dripping with venom. I stopped in my tracks.
They’re talking about me. What the fuck?
Dorien whirled on his heel and strode away. Heather screamed after him, “If you don’t have the stomach to finish what we started, I’ll do it myself.”
“Do that, and I’ll ruin you.” Dorien didn’t yell, but the threat was clear in his voice.
Heather slammed the Red Room door in his face. Dorien stared at it for a few moments, his chest rising and falling, his hands balled into fists. He stalked down the hall toward me; the storm in his eyes could sink a battleship.
Dorien’s step wavered as he spotted me, then he narrowed those slate orbs at me and quickened his pace. His boots thudded on the thick rug. He made his intention clear. If I didn’t get out of his way, he’d mow me down and feel no remorse for it.
He must’ve discovered his charitable donation.
A strain. A break. Even a bruising could impact my playing. I couldn’t afford to get hurt.
But I also knew I couldn’t let Dorien win. If I gave this dickhead an inch, he’d destroy me.
I stepped toward Dorien, squaring my shoulders, making it clear that I wasn’t budging.
Dorien kept coming, that beautiful jaw set in grim determination. The space closed between us, bringing a wave of his intoxicating scent that almost knocked me back. But I didn’t stop, didn’t slow down.
At the last possible second, I slammed my body against the wall and stuck out my foot. Dorien’s heavy boot slid beneath it, and he dropped like a log.
“What the fuck?” he groaned as he rolled over to kneel on the rug. He clutched his hand, which had slammed against the dado rail.
“It speaks.” I stood over him with arms folded. A smile crept across my face, and I let it linger. I liked this view of him, groveling beneath me with a bewildered expression on his face.
“You… tripped me.” Dorien raised his arm. It had sliced down the hook on the wall, opening a small cut along the side of his forearm. “I’m bleeding.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” A twinge of guilt wriggled in my gut, but I pushed it down. “You intended to hurt me just now,andyou tripped me twice. You hurt my mother. All’s fair in war and prize money.”
Dorien pulled himself to his feet, using the arm that wasn’t bleeding to flick dark curls of hair from his eyes. “I never touched your mother, and if you thought about it for a moment, you’d realize you knew that. Even if you were the best musician in this school, which you’re not, Madame Usher will never give you the Manderley Prize.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stop it going to any member of Broken Muse.” I shrugged. “I get it. You hate me. But I’m not going anywhere, so you’re wasting your energy tormenting me.”
“It’s not a waste.” Dorien dusted off his trousers. “I enjoy it.”
“There are so manymoreenjoyable ways to spend your time.”
The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. A flush formed on my cheeks, and I resisted the urge to bash my head against the wall until I wiped all memory of Dorien’s raised eyebrow and shocked expression from existence.
Dorien pushed past me, leaving a trail of frankincense and violets and a fluttering in my chest in his wake.
Did I imagine it, or did Dorien Valencourt just flash me asmile?
Chapter Forty-Six
Faye
