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Emily stared at his violin. “Are you—” She frowned. “What are you doing here?”
His expression of surprise deepened and he smiled. “I play with the DC Symphony.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You do? I mean, that’s amazing.” She furrowed her brows and frowned. “They’re still playing.”
The man grimaced and rubbed his brow with a thumb. “Yeah, well...” He sighed and closed his eyes. “We have a new Maestro. He’s... challenging.”
She tilted her head and listened as the music continued. “It almost sounds like the ‘New World Symphony’ but... strange.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it,” he muttered. “Maestro’s being clever and mixing up our parts,” he spat. “Gave the viola part to the first violins.”
Emily bit back her laugh when she saw how upset he was and pressed her lips together.
“You think it’s funny?” His eyes narrowed.
“A little.”
“It’s wrong.”
She thought back to how she would have felt in the same situation and gave an understanding nod.
He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “You know music.” He held up his violin. “You know Guarneri. Who are you?”
She stepped back and shook her head. “Nobody.”
“I doubt that.”
“I may have studied in school a bit,” she said slowly.
“A bit?”
She shrugged, unwilling to admit more.
He searched her eyes and his shoulders relaxed. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Should I?”
“Ouch.” A small smile appeared on his face. “I suppose that’s no worse than being given the viola part.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mark.”
She tilted her head. “Should that mean something to me?”
“Mark Pierce.”
Her heart dropped into her chest and she sucked in a sharp breath. Her jaw trembled, not knowing what to say. Finally, she squeaked out, “You’re... Mark Pierce?”
He nodded and a wry smile appeared on his face as he lifted his eyebrows.
Past and present blurred in Emily’s mind as she stared at him. Her idol for so long. She’d listened to his recordings for hours when she wasn’t practicing. How had she not recognized him? His playing? She’d stared at the photo of his handsome face for as many hours as she’d listened to him play. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not recognizing you.”
He chuckled. “It was kinda nice.”
