I shake my head in utter desperation, my lips quivering.
“Seven thirty tomorrow morning,” he says.
The relief of that last addition barely helps. I don’t know if I can make it through another full day of practice. When I get home, I’m so sick with worry that I can’t sleep. But even knowing I’m headed straight for failure, I also can’t give up. If Ian gives me another chance, I’ll quit my job myself. I might end up on the streets, but I can’t go back now that I’ve finally regained some hope.
12
The Proposition
Ian
“This isn’t working,” I tell Jenna the next morning after an hour of listening to her sloppy playing. She’s at her breaking point. Her hands are shaking, her lips trembling, and she’s fighting off tears. I had planned on waiting until Monday to give her the ultimatum, but she’s already where I want her. That threat of getting fired was the icing on the cake, making her even more desperate and lost than I could have hoped.
But it’s not just that she’s ready; I also can’t bear to wait one more day to break her out of her misery and hold her in my arms.
She turns on the bench, eyes wide and pleading. “No. No. I’ll do better.”
“You’re tired, unfocused, and you still can’t play the rapid notes with the right wrist movement.”
Her hands clutch the edges of the bench, desperation thinning her voice. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise. I’ll quit my job. I’ll do anything. Just give me another chance. I’ll make it work.”
I suppress a smile and the urge to say,This is already working beautifully.
Keeping my expression serious, I hold her gaze. “Do you still want to doeverythingit takes to play?”
“Anything,” she says with fervor.
“Then come with me.” I go to the door and hold it open for her. She casts a nervous glance at me as she steps into the hall and moves aside to let me to lead the way. Her entire body is teeming with anxiety as I signal for her to go ahead. Her head makes a little twitch a few times as if she wants to turn and look at me. Having me follow right on her heel, towering above her, unnerves her. And it makes me hard.
“In here,” I tell her when we reach my office. I push the door open for her, and she freezes when she looks inside and sees Killian in one of the recliners by the tall window.
Pressing a hand to the small of her back, I spur her inside.
“We have a proposition for you,” I say.
“What kind of proposition?” Her voice thins, and she takes a step away from me, hands nervously clinging to each other.
“Go kneel at Killian’s feet and I’ll tell you.” I gesture toward my son, who spreads his legs, making room for her.
She shakes her head, eyes darting between him and me, biting her lips as the trembling gets worse.
“Go on.” I nod at him, and when she still hesitates, I open the door. “Do it, or leave.”
Her eyes glisten with tears as she watches me, probably hoping it’s all just a cruel joke. When I open the door an inch farther, she drops her gaze and pads over to Killian. Two feet away from him, she sinks to her knees.
“Not good enough,” I tell her. When she scoots a little closer, only almost reaching his knees, I add, “All the way, and then turn your face this way.”
She scoots around and backs up until she’s between his legs. The rapid rise and fall of her chest makes me want to go hug her. Or maybe make her kneel at my feet. Or even between us.
Killian grabs a fistful of her hair, making her yelp. “Finally, there’s my little princess.”
“Control yourself,” I demand.
Killian rolls his eyes but releases her hair.
I go to sit in my chair behind the desk, turning toward them as I interlace my hands over my stomach.
“This proposition only comes once, so I want you to listen very carefully, Jenna. Can you do that?”
