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As she mentally moved to the climax of the piece, her body began to tremble as tension built in her belly. He slid a finger inside her and she gasped. Her world exploded in bright colors and chords, and she cried out, arching off the bed. He held her hips and sucked harder as she flew into the sky, the music exploding like fireworks around her. She was the music and the music was her.
The melody died away and she sucked in a deep breath as she floated back down to earth. Her body relaxed and she let out a last shudder as the mattress beneath her cradled her sweaty, trembling body.
Rafael rolled off her legs. “Good girl,” he whispered, stroking her hip. “Go to sleep,” he said, still in the accented voice. “We will practice in the morning.”
He stood and disappeared into the bathroom.
Emily’s eyes snapped open and her body went cold as the present came crashing back. She curled onto her side and buried her face into her pillow, her entire body convulsing with silent sobs. Once again, Geoffrey had ripped apart the protective shell she’d placed around her heart, and it lay raw and bleeding in her chest. Her body throbbed with unbearable ideas and music she’d kept tamped down for so many years.
But the worst was yet to come.
Two
Mark Pierce closedhis eyes as he drew his bow across the strings of his violin. The last notes of the Mendelssohn violin concerto1sang throughout the concert hall, holding the audience captive until the last echoes dissipated into the hearts of each and every person present. Silence reverberated in his ears as he waited—his right arm holding his bow frozen above his head—for the audience to wake. He smiled as the first few claps cracked through the spell and slowly, he lowered his arm. Within seconds, the entire audience leaped to their feet, cheering and applauding enthusiastically. Several calls of “Encore!” rang out over the accolades.
He bowed and then nodded to the Maestro of the New York City Symphony. The orchestra began Sarasate’s dramaticGypsy Airs2,a crowd favorite. It wasn’t his favorite, but the piece allowed him to make the audience happy one last time without expending too much energy. After playing for the past two hours, he was exhausted and only wanted a drink and dinner. But he wouldn’t disappoint his fans, especially the cute blonde in the front row.
His sweaty dark hair fell into his face as his whole body engaged in the music. Though the piece started slow, the ending was exciting and his enthusiasm grew as the piece progressed. He poured all his remaining energy into it, dipping forward to emphasize the heavier notes and leaning back to lighten the higher, faster fingerings. He finished with a flourish, his bow in the air above his head and a grin on his face. He bowed, swept his hand toward the conductor and the orchestra behind him, and bowed again as the musicians stood.
Many minutes later, he strode off stage. The audience still applauded but he had nothing left to give. It had been a long concert—the final one of his eighteen-month world tour—and he was satisfied with his performance. He could take a break from touring and enjoy fulfilling his one-year contract with the DC Symphony Orchestra back home.
At least that’s what he told himself.
He shook hands with each of the orchestra members as they passed by, thanking them for their passion and hard work.
Maestro Schultz approached last, arms outstretched. “Care to join us for the after-party?”
“I would love to, but I have to catch the train home in a few hours.” The new maestro of the DCSO was asking for extra rehearsals at the beginning of the season so he and the musicians could “get to know one another.” Mark suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He was beginning to regret his decision to sign the contract.
He headed backstage and carefully packed his nearly three-hundred-year-old precious Guarneri violin into its case and handed it to Sam, his agent.
“You going out to the front?” Sam asked, taking the violin.
“Of course. It’s tradition. Were there a lot of kids in the audience?”
Sam nodded. “A good number. New York and all.”
“Good.” Mark wiped his face and hair of sweat with a soft towel, took a swig of water, and headed out to the lobby to meet the audience.
The first to spot him was a young girl, about eight, with curly blonde hair. She clapped her hands to her mouth and bounced on her toes as he walked toward her. Mark grinned and waved. Her mouth dropped open and she pointed to her chest as her blue eyes widened. He nodded.
She grinned and tugged at the man standing next to her talking to a group of well-dressed men and women.
“Hi,” Mark said, walking over to her and kneeling. “I’m Mark. What’s your name?”
“I know who you are,” she said. “You’re the man with the violin.”
Mark chuckled. “I am. Did you enjoy the concert?”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I really liked the nursery rhymes part. I never knew they could sound so... beautiful.” She held out the skirt of her blue dress and twirled around in a circle, a cheerful grin on her face.
Mark grinned. “I do my best. Do you play an instrument?”
“Piano. For now. But I think I want to learn violin.”
“The violin is a beautiful instrument, but pianists are very important, too.”
“Cynthia is quite talented,” said the man from above whom Mark assumed was her father, as they had similar eyes. He placed a gentle hand on the girl’s head. “And a hard worker.”
