“She’s been trying to get me to agree to “private tutoring” for a while, which I didn’t take too seriously, but she was rubbing her leg against mine today, even after I moved my chair back. I ignored it, of course, but I blurted out some nonsense about a girlfriend before she could speak to me again after practice. I think it worked. I need to remember I gave the girlfriend a name.”
He sighs as he finishes, leaning back in his seat.
I watch a few of the women from the hall pass us by as I drive slowly out of the lot.
They glance our way, but they’re looking at the back of the limo, and they’re ultimately left disappointed.
The tinted windows won’t let them glimpse Harper.
I turn my attention to the front of the building as we move toward the parking lot’s exit, and that’s when I spot the girl wearing loose black lace over a black dress.
She’s stomping down the front steps of the Symphony Hall, violin case dangling from her right hand. The woman hasincredibly pale skin and long jet-black hair. If her lips were red, she’d look like a nightmare vampire version of Snow White. Her expression is stormy, to say the least.
She strides toward the parking lot like she’s on a mission, too.
“I think Emerald Jasmine is pissed off,” I murmur, as I turn onto the road.
“Oh no. You saw her?”
“She looks like trouble,” I admit. “But don’t worry about it.”
“I just hope she doesn’t ruin opening night,” he mutters.
Of course that’s what he’s worried about.
He’s used to women flirting with him.
He can handle that.
This situation is a little different than most.
We can’t be honest, so I can’t step in as his mate and tell that woman to move on.
It would feel good if I could, but it would hurt Harper too much to lose his position here.
He’s pretending to be a Beta so he can do what he loves, and I’m pretending to be an employee so I can keep him safe if something happens that unmasks him as an Omega.
Every step we take needs to be carefully measured.
Trouble is, neither of us can control another person’s actions.
What Emerald does is up to her, and we’re going to have to try and control the damage if she decides to do something crazy. It’s probably too much to hope that she’ll just walk away from the orchestra over this.
Maybe she’ll fume in silence. Or maybe she’ll curse us. She did look a bit witchy.
“What’s my fake girlfriend’s name?” Harper asks.
“Maria,” I answer, without skipping a beat.
“Thank God,” he murmurs.
“See?” I ask, glancing at him in the mirror. “Nothing to worry about.”
He sighs. “Right. You’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Chapter Ten
