“More!”
My fingertips went numb.
“Faster!”
I screamed out a growl. “Why don’t you just play it!” I snapped. “If you’re so fricking sure of how it should sound.”
He glared at me, and at that moment, I had no idea why I was even here. Why I had even been chosen. I wanted to attack him with punches and scream until my throat went raw.
“It’s your piece,” he said.
He’d said that time and time again, but I didn’t understand. Any cellist could play this. I needed to understand why. He wanted me to listen. I was listening. I screamed out with a growl of rage as my hands flew.
“You aren’t trying!” he yelled over the music.
“I am!” I yelled back but my fingers missed a slide into their position. Tears threatened.
I collapsed into my cello. Pressed my cheek against the hard wood. Inhaled the smell of resin and polish. I hated this version of him so much. We’d reverted so far back to the beginning. He’d pushed me too far. This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? Maybe he felt my feelings shift at the bar when he sang to me. Maybe he was scared of the feelings I couldn’t hide. Of another fangirl falling over themselves for him. He wanted this reaction. He wanted to push me away.
He was selfish. I was nothing to him but another instrument in his beautiful room. A tool for his own purposes. Maybe Roddy was right, and I was his muse. And a disappointing one, at that.
I laid my cello down on its side carefully despite my shaking hands. “I’m done here.”
“We aren’t done for the day.” He turned to face me, wiping his hands on his pants.
“Devlin.” I stood and held his gaze. “I’m done.”
“You promised. You committed. You can’t just go.”
“You don’t want me. You’re mad about something, and you’re pushing me away. So fine. I’ll leave. I’m done.”
His nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell when he stood to match my stance. “You can’t just leave.”
“I’m tired,” I shrugged with effort and made my way to the door.
“Don’t put this on me. You’re the one who’s holding back,” he said calmly.
I turned around, my voice cracking with emotion as tears balanced on my eyelids. “I’ve given you everything. It will never be enough for you.”
“Liar.”
“What?” I threw out my arms.
“You keep saying that, but you aren’t. Something is stopping you. It’s the reason you hide yourself. It’s the reason you only really open up when you’re alone.”
I couldn’t help it. I stepped toward him. I was shaking with anger and exhaustion. A tear spilled over, so I swiped it away. “I have given everything to this, but it will never be enough. And don’t you ever talk to me about hiding yourself away. You wear a flipping mask.”
“That’s not real. You know that. You know more about me than anybody else. You can tell yourself it’s my fault, but you know the truth. Youareholding something back. Until you let go of your demons, you’ll never move forward.”
* * *
I stomped out of the room. Just the stubborn set of his jaw caused another wave of anger. How could he possibly put this on me? What a self-centered egomaniac. Sure, he was a genius musician in the body of a sex god. Yes, he had more talent in his pinky than most people could have after years of practice. But I was a strong, independent woman, and I was sick of his childish temper.
“Kim.”
I had made it about four steps down the hallway when he stopped me by grabbing my hand.
I tugged it free from his grasp.
