“My reputation precedes me.” Even Zara thinks I’m a ladies’ man. Can’t say I blame her. If the only thing she knows about me is what’s written in the press, then that’s all she’d know.
“I know people don’t take me seriously, but I want to do a good job. I want to find something that I can put my name behind and believe in. We have this event next week, at one of the national museums—”
“We do?” Zara cuts me off.
“Best get used to your life being planned out to the minute.”
“Sounds lovely.” She rolls her eyes at me, going back to her dinner.
“You get used to it. This event next week is for the British Arts. It was something Ellie always supported, and it’s now fallen on me. I’m fine supporting the arts, but it’s not my calling.”
Zara studies me, her eyes penetrating my own protection shields. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”
“I’m hoping good different.”
“I like that you don’t want to just take what is given to you. You are striving to be better. To make a name for yourself. I can’t imagine how difficult that must be in your position. Especially considering why I’m here.”
“Where in the world did you come from?” I ask on a laugh, trying to diffuse the tension coiling inside my chest.
“I’m serious, James. It must be so hard being raised in the spotlight and everyone thinking you’re one person, and then having to be someone completely different.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.” I give her a soft smile. This conversation got much heavier than first date conversations should get. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re dating your future wife.
Chapter Seven
Zara
“Miss Cross, are you dating the prince?” one of my students pipes up in the back. We’re working on a new piece today, but they’ve been badgering me all day after seeing the pictures of James and me leaving the restaurant the other night.
“If you keep asking, I won’t give you our new song to play today.”
Their moaning isn’t held back.
“I don’t want to play more Vivaldi!”
“Ugh, dead music is so boring!”
“Alright, alright. If you give me your very best for the next thirty minutes, we can switch back to the newer pieces next week.”
Cheers go up around me. I tap my baton and twenty students straighten, readying their instruments. Waving my hands, the music swells around me. As much as my students whine, they are brilliant performers. The music takes over, and I’m swept away. My eyes close as I lean into the motion. It’s familiar. Soothing. It doesn’t matter what is going on outside this room. Music is in my soul.
As we hit the crescendo, and then the music quiets, I come back to the room. Focused faces are drawn tight as the piece ends.
“That was absolutely brilliant. Well done. I’ll have the new music ready for tomorrow. You’ve earned it!” I clap my hands, signalling to them they can put away their instruments.
“Can it be Beyoncé? I really want it to be Beyoncé!”
“I’ll make a note of that, Eugenie. Now get going. Have a nice evening, everyone.”
Cases shutting and chatter from the students are the last sounds for the day. It’s been an exhausting few days, and I can’t wait to get home. This weekend is another planned outing with James. The few paparazzi that were outside the club ate up our appearance together. James said with a few more outings like that, we’ll be established as a couple. I try not to let the thought make me sick.
I hate the limelight. James loves it. I guess you have to be comfortable in the spotlight when you grow up with cameras being shoved in your face. James has a natural rapport with them. I hope I develop a thick skin. They won’t be easy to deal with.
Packing up, I lock up my room and make the short walk to my house. I love Hammersmith. It’s quiet. You don’t feel like you’re in the hustle and bustle of London. Slinging my violin higher on my shoulder, I turn onto my street. There’s a commotion down the street. Getting closer, my nerves start tingling. They can’t be in front of my house, can they?
“Zara! Zara! Over here!”
My worst fears are confirmed as cameras are shoved in my face. One paparazzo turns into five, which turns into ten. Where in the world are they coming from?
