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“Okay,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.
Her back turned cold as Geoffrey strode three steps across the tiny apartment to the cupboard over the fridge and pulled out the dreaded bottle of tequila. She watched, frozen in place, as he chugged the last bit of whiskey and splashed a healthy shot of expensive liquor into the glass.
“Drink.” He nodded toward the glass.
Emily stared at it as her feet moved forward of their own accord.
“The alcohol will help you sleep,” Geoffrey said, adopting the familiar—but false—Argentinian accent.
Emily shuddered at the sound. Her hand shook as she reached out, and she glanced at Geoffrey before picking up the glass. The tequila stung, but not like the whiskey. No, this was a different kind of burn altogether. A burn that lit up the memories she struggled to keep buried deep in the recesses of her mind and heart.
“Now,” Geoffrey said in that same accent. “Go get ready for bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
She obediently retrieved her PJs from her tiny dresser and went into the bathroom to change. She half expected Geoffrey to make her change in front of him, but he kept silent, as usual. When she emerged a few minutes later, he was sitting at the table, staring at his phone and drinking a bottle of beer he must have brought with him. She didn’t like beer. It didn’t make her nauseated anymore, since she had to deliver it to customers at the Café, but she would never drink it.
She crawled into bed and pulled the covers up, facing the wall. Her jaw trembled as she swallowed back vomit, wondering if Section One was truly worth it.
She listened to Geoffrey drink his beer and willed her body to relax. Six years ago, she’d lain in a much nicer bed, excited for what the next day would hold, having no idea her innocence was about to be destroyed.
Emily had just relaxed when Geoffrey stood. Her breath caught in her throat and heat rushed through her body as he sat down on the bed.
He slid his fingers down her exposed arm. “Emma...”
She winced. With that single utterance—her real name—he transported her back in time.
She was fourteen again, lying in bed in her room at Rafael’s luxurious “cabin” on the edge of California’s Angeles National Forest. Her father had sent her with him for a private retreat to make her a better violinist. She could almost smell the sharp, sweet scent of the pine trees outside the window.
Her entire body trembled. “I-I don’t think I can do this, Geoffrey...”
He pinched her arm and she gasped. “Use the right name.”
“Rafael.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Good girl.” He slid his hands up and down her arm. “Why are you trembling, my sweet?”
It was Geoffrey’s warning to give into the past. She took a deep breath, forcing her body to relax and her mind to drift into the past. The pillow beneath her head grew softer as she inhaled the phantom scent of pine trees.
“Emma...” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. Where were Rafael’s beard and mustache? “You did so well today, Emma. I am so proud of you.”
She turned onto her back and stared into piercing blue eyes she knew should be dark brown. “Thank you, Rafael,” she whispered.
He trailed his fingers over her clavicle and smiled. “I promised your father I would find your passion, and I will do everything in my power to do so.” He kissed her lips and nuzzled her nose with his own. “You are a very talented violinist, but you lack fire in your playing. We must light that fire in order to take you to the next level of virtuosity. That is what we will do while we are here.”
His kiss deepened and he cupped her cheek.
She turned her face. “Rafael, I can’t. I have a boyfriend.” She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering Kevin. They’d broken up shortly after she returned home from the retreat. She couldn’t stay with him after what Rafael had done to her.
Geoffrey kissed her neck. “Your time here is about music. Nothing else. Home is another world. Here is what matters.” His voice grew hypnotic, his adopted accent elongating the vowels and making everything sound so much more romantic. “Here I will teach you passion and pain and all the wonderful emotions of life. You will become the greatest violinist of your generation.”
She let herself be carried away by his words. “I’m already a good musician.”
“Yes, you are. But you lack the most important ingredient to be great. That was my charge by your father and I will not fail him.” He kissed her neck again. “It will be very pleasant to learn, I promise you.” He slid his palm down and cupped her breast.
She gasped and closed her eyes as he caressed it, thumbing her nipple and making it grow rock hard. He did the same to her other breast, then slid his hand down to lift her left hand to his mouth. He kissed the pad of each finger. “These fingers will be the most famous fingers of our age, if not the ages to come.” Each kiss sent electric volts shooting through her body, somehow aimed at the junction between her legs.
“I can’t...” She shook her head. “Kevin...”
“Kevin will still be there when you return home.” He slid the top of her chemise down, exposing her breasts to the cool air and she shivered. “He never needs to find out what happened here. No one does.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nipple. “How much do you want to become agreatviolinist?”
