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The corner of his mouth lifted. “How did they fuck us up so much?”
“If you find out the answer, you let me know.
Chapter 48
Emmy
The moment my fingers touched the strings of my harp, every feeling and thought fell away. All the chaos, all the trauma, all the fears melted to the background as joy and pleasure surged forward.
This is why I had wanted to perform tonight, why I had needed it. With everything swirling around me, getting the opportunity to perform, playing music on this beautiful instrument brought peace to my beleaguered mind. It always had. There was something about performing for an audience that filled me with ecstatic energy and bliss. It was as if we were engaged in an unspoken duet where I fed off their enjoyment and funneled that back into my playing.
The time passed in the blink of an eye.
Elation and euphoria blazed through me as the curtain closed, the rush I felt after every performance acting like a hit of opium. I knew that Ivan had been highly agitated about my insistence on being here, but at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
“Awesome job, Emmy,” Kevin said, wrapping a quick arm around my shoulders before taking an anxious look around, no doubt fearing Ivan would jump out of somewhere and throat punch him for talking to me. He quickly released me and stepped away, likely for the same reason.
“Thanks, Kevin, you did great, too.”
He shrugged and gave me a bashful smile. “Thanks. What are you—”
“Emmy,” a dark voice I’d never heard before called out behind me.
Kevin to stop talking, his eyes widening slightly. Even though I had no idea who was behind me, I felt one hundred percent certain I wasn’t going to like what I saw when I turned around.
Taking a deep breath, I turned and was confronted with the newest nightmare on my horizon—Thomas Armstrong.
Of course, after being told this man was my father, I looked him up on the internet. I had to. I searched for any information that might offer clues as to how he and my mother even came into contact with each other.
Most of the information was related to his business ventures and updates regarding the status of his many companies. There were a few articles about his many wives, half of which had died mysteriously or vanished altogether.
It didn't take long to read between the lines of Thomas Armstrong’s biography and understand he was a powerful creep who had people eliminated at his whim. You’d expect such a vile man to look like a gargoyle or have a hunchback or something, but he looked incredibly ordinary.
His dark brown hair was sprinkled with silver, matching his closely trimmed beard. The weight around his waist and his jawline gave him a slightly paunchy appearance—like an aging King Henry VIII. He looked shockingly normal.
The only feature that revealed some of his true nature were his eyes—the same blue with gold flecks as my own. They were cold and calculating. Those eyes flicked over me as if I had just offered to share a winning lottery ticket with him.
His appraising look sent a bolt of sheer panic through me, and my mouth felt like I’d swallowed a mouthful of sawdust. I darted a quick look around, expecting Ivan to come barreling over. Unfortunately, there were swarms of people milling around and he must be having a hard time making it backstage.
I was incredibly grateful for Kevin’s awkward, shuffling presence next to me, though I imagine he was trying to find a subtle way to flee as the unspoken tension between me and Armstrong built. At least he wouldn’t kidnap me in front of a witness—I didn’t think.
“Um, yes?” I replied, as if I didn’t know who he was, hoping he’d just move along if I played dumb.
A slow grin crept over his features. It did nothing to lessen his malevolent vibes. “Do you not know who I am?”
Shit, shit, shit. How did I answer this? Was I supposed to know him? Not know him?
“Uh, I…um…I’m not…” I stuttered, once again taking a quick look around in case Ivan felt like storming in and saving me from this torturous encounter. I even shot a look at poor Kevin who simply shrugged at me, because he genuinely didn’t know who this guy was.
“I am the man who paid for your schooling. A benefactor, if you will.”
I exhaled heavily in relief. That was the direction he was going. I could go along with that. “Oh, wow, okay. I had wondered who paid for my school. Uh, well, thank you for that,” I replied and Jesus Christ, I wasn’t going to be winning an Academy Award any time soon, that was for sure.
His grin broadened, as if I had given a far more effusive response than I had. “I’ve been following your development for years. You have become a magnificent musician. I’m very proud of your talent.”
“Yeah, thank you,” I murmured, my palms starting to fully sweat at this point.
“I have big plans for you. It is gratifying to see how my investment has paid off.”
