Page 63 of Lethal Obsession

Unfortunately, much as I’d love to believe that Dittorio was bribed to say what he did, I know he meant every word.

Even worse, I know he’s right.

My tutor has said something similar, more than once. That my playing is technically perfect but lacks that special something that would make it superlative.

That doesn’t mean I’m any happier about being told what to do.

“I’m not going back to the finca.” I say it flatly, meeting my father’s eyes without flinching. “I love the boys, but that house is mayhem. I can’t practice there.”

“Fine.” My father folds his arms, his eyes narrowing. “You can move back into your old apartment, beneath the penthouse in Malaga—”

“No way.” I fold my own arms, shaking my head. The Malaga apartment has cameras in every corner and my father’s security watching every single movement.

He fixes me with a very stern eye. “You’re coming back to Spain, Ofelia. I have good relations with the authorities there, unlike here.”

“You mean you own the Spanish authorities,” I say, “unlike the French ones.”

Papa grinds his teeth. “You’re coming home. It’s not negotiable.”

“Then I’m going to Granada.” Taking advantage of my father’s momentary look of surprise, I press on. “It’s only a hundred kilometers from the finca. You do business there all the time. It’s far safer than Madrid or Seville. Definitely safer than Barcelona. It has a vibrant music scene. And Lourdes lives there, so I won’t be alone.”

He frowns. “The university in Granada doesn’t have a classical music program—”

“You heard Dittorio. I don’t need one.” I use his own argument against him. “And Granada has the International Music Festival. It’s a major date on the classical calendar.”

“But what would you do there?”

I shrug. “Teach. Play. Go to different kinds of performances. Immerse myself in other styles for a while. Do exactly what Dittorio told you I should do.”

Be somewhere Alexei can come and visit me.

“You can approve where I live,” I compromise, “and put as many security measures in place as you like.”

Papa’s expression lifts marginally.

“Granada is close enough for me to visit you guys, or you to come to me, whenever you want.”

He’s starting to nod.

“I only have one condition.”

He glares again.

“I want to choose my own security detail. No offense, you guys,” I say, smiling at Bryce and Luis. “But I’ve had the same security guards since I was a teenager. I think I’ve earned the right to choose my own. With your approval, obviously,” I add, turning back to Papa, who looks unconvinced.

“That’s fair, Roman.” To my surprise, it’s Mickey who stands up for me. “Ofelia should get to choose her security, same as I do.”

Bryce and Luis actually nod in agreement. I guess it hasn’t been easy for them either, trying to find the right balance.

“Granada.” Papa stares at the wall behind me, still clearly trying to find an argument. Finally, to my vast relief, he nods. “Fine. Granada. But I get final say on the house and security.”

I nod, feeling an unexpected sense of excitement steal through my body, especially when Lourdes squeals and races over to hug me. “We’ll be together again!”

I return her hug as Papa pulls out his phone and starts making arrangements.

I’m going home.

The thought is almost absurdly comforting.