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She opened the door and hurried out into the afternoon sun. He watched from his front door to make sure she caught a cab at the end of the sidewalk before walking back inside. He collapsed onto the couch near the door.
What the hell was going on with him? He never groveled for the attention of a woman. But he wanted to know her. Wanted to know all about her.
There was something about Emily...
He frowned. Something about her...
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and searched through his videos until he found the one—a very old one—he was looking for and pushed play.
The girl in the video, about sixteen or so, played with such passion that it brought tears to his eyes. The Tchaikovsky violin concerto sounded so sweet and passionate at the same time, the music swirling through his veins as if it were life itself. Her fingers flew across the strings like ballet dancers on the stage.
Though she played for the most part with her hair across her face, occasionally her visage would make an appearance, tears sparkling in her dark eyes as she played. He’d never heard anyone play like her. It’s why he took his phone out and recorded it.
She’d been awarded a position in the pre-college Juilliard program on the spot.
She never showed up to class.
Emma Parker.
The most promising young violinist he’d ever heard had vanished into thin air, leaving a stringless Stradivarius behind in her dorm room. Her parents had spent a lot of money searching for her, but there had been no trace.
Mark stared at the front door, his mind full. Had he found her?
Twenty-One
Emily hummedthe Tchaikovsky concerto as she unlocked the door to her condo. What would Geoffrey want with her this afternoon? He usually waited until after work to use her.
She walked inside and dropped her purse on the table near the door and headed to the bedroom.
A voice came from the kitchen. “Where were you?”
She froze mid-step, caught her breath, and walked into the kitchen where Geoffrey stood, leaning against the island, arms crossed over his chest.
Emily’s jaw moved for a moment before the words managed to spill out. “I-I thought you wanted me to come to your place.”
“I didn’t want to wait.” He glared. “Where were you?”
She flinched at his harsh tone. “I had lunch with a friend.”
“A man?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
“Did you fuck him?”
“No.”
“Then why did he ask you out?”
Her chest burned at the question. “I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him.”
Geoffrey laughed. “And he still took you out?”
“He wanted to talk about music.”
“The subject you despise?”
She didn’t answer.
