Page 32 of Petrify

“Sometimes I can’t think, because I know you’re there.” The soft pink flushes into a pretty crimson at the admission.

I affect her.

“And when I’m alone, I—” She stumbles on her words. I wonder how bright the blood under her skin is, to make her blush so prettily. “I just need to practice. I need to. It’s—it’s very important to me.”

I nod, because if there’s anyone that would understand, it’s me. Nod, to remind myself to keep my thoughts in line. “Are Mariane and Leo treating you well?”

A small crease forms between her brows. “The money is good. And I have access to this,” she says, her hand settling on top of the Steinway.

The Steinway they bought after I’d already been shunned into the dark.

The Steinway they bought forhim.

Too many hands have touched this instrument. Tutor after tutor, most unworthy. I’m beginning to realize I don’t want anyone else seated at that bench buther.

“I didn’t ask about the money. Are theykindto you?”

She hesitates, and I can think only of when Leo cornered her in this room. How I wanted to gouge out his eyes, take my time slipping my thumb between his skull and blood-shot sclera while he wails, pulling taut the stringy muscle until it snaps and I can crush the orb under my heel.

“Of course.”

The muscle in my jaw clenches. I would do that for her—hurt him. And selfishly I want to. I’ve wanted to for awhile, and if she’s giving me a reason to, then so be it.

“You should play every day. I want you to play every day.”

“Your music?”

“Whatever music you’d like.” I am a few paces away from her. It is suddenly too far. “I want my music to be the only music you play. The only music youwantto play. Ever.”

That skeptical look narrows her eyes again. But she doesn’t cower, doesn’t sayNo. “Then you have to give me advice,” she says, straightening her chin. “Tell me how to play it. Your song. Guide me. You are the composer.”

“I thought you wanted no distractions?” I move closer. Slowly. I don’t want to scare her. “But if you insist on my company, I am happy to obey.”

It’s no trick of the light when her pupils widen. “In the evenings. When I am done with Henri and everything else. You’ll help me in the evenings. But during the day you have to… leave me alone.”

Her eyes are greedy, so I know this is a feigned concern that I will reveal myself to Henri or the staff—does she really care for them? She doesn’t know that they’re already very familiar with the ghost that stalks these halls.

“I won't bother you during the day. But I can’t promise not to listen.” Her music is too sweet.

“Okay.”

I stop just within reach. “And at night—you are mine.”

Her lashes flutter. “Okay.”

“Say it, Mallary.” Gratification is already tightening at my spine.

Her brief hesitation is endearing. “At night, I am yours.”

Chapter 17

The Pianist

I losemyself easily amidst melodies. After another day of tutoring, and babysitting, the release of music is all I need. This time alone, to turn off all my thoughts and let the sound carry me away.

Despite myself, I’ve wondered about him all day. Bastien.

True to his word, his presence has been fleeting. Is it arrogant to assume he’s been watching me anyway? Somehow able to hide his nearness, to the point it feels like he’s not there at all? At least before, Iknewhe was there. But today I’ve been even more distracted, searching for him, waiting for that uncanny feeling to seize me.