Chapter twenty-six
Christianna
I wake abruptly, unsure what pulled me from sleep. My mouth feels like the Sahara and I crawl out of an unfamiliar bed.
Meg is sprawled beside me, arms and legs flung wide in a starfish impersonation. Thank god it’s a king.
I make it to the bathroom and skip the glasses, sticking my head under the stream instead. Shit. Forgot to pull my hair back.
I’m in a tank and a pair of sleep shorts Meg lent me, but the room still feels hot as hell. I head for the slider, craving air.
Still muggy. Useless. But piano music drifts from the neighboring suite, slow, familiar, and mesmerizing.
I pause, listening.
Erik's rich baritone carries over the night, raw and aching. The sound tightens something in my chest. I don’t realize I’ve moved until my toes brush the edge of the balcony.
I lean forward.
Too far.
The world tips and a small scream tears out of me as I pitch forward, catching myself on the lip of the adjoining balcony.
The music stops.
I look up at a shadow backlit by the glow inside the penthouse.
Rough hands grab me under the arms and haul me up and over the railing.
I clutch his shoulders as my feet find solid ground and force myself to breathe.
Now I need to decide what the hell I’m doing here.
I can’t see his face yet, but I feel his attention on me. Measuring. Focused.
I try to pull away. I’ve gotten better, but being pinned can still flip a switch I don’t want touched.
He releases me immediately and steps back, giving me space.
His face comes into the light. Dark hair falling over his forehead. Eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing, but not unkind.
I inhale slowly through my nose, grounding myself, while my mind spins through scenarios faster than I can grab one.
“You’re Meg’s friend,” he says quietly. “The musician.”
I nod. Still not trusting my voice.
His gaze flicks past me to the open slider of Meg’s penthouse.
“I woke up and came outside,” I finally manage. “I heard the music.” My hand lifts uselessly between us. “It was heartbreaking. I didn’t realize…”
A smile flashes across his face. Quick. Genuine.
“You never have to explain losing yourself to the music.”
He glances back toward the balcony. “You can come in, if you won’t disturb me. Or I can see if Remy has a key to Meg’s unit.”
“Can I listen?” I ask.
