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Emily closed her eyes,wishing the burning tears would go away. She hated crying. Hated showing emotion. Men took advantage of it. Emotions made her weak. Vulnerable.
Mark Pierce had recorded her audition. Why? She was a decent player, but not of his caliber. He was... amazing. He had a way of sucking in the audience and holding them tight in his musical embrace, not letting go until the last note disappeared into the vast unknown. She had only experienced it with his recordings... Well, that wasn’t true now. She’d heard him play in person. It was even more captivating in person.
Mark broke the silence. “My dad—the dad who raised me—was an arms dealer. My real dad kidnapped my mom and brought her to him, along with my Uncle Jason, who was forced to work for him. My real dad was killed saving my mom’s life the night my other dad’s compound was attacked.”
Emily snapped open her eyes and stared. “What?”
“Nathan, the man who raised me...” He motioned to the family photo. “He was an arms dealer before I was born.” He gave a tight smile. “My mom was kidnapped by my real dad.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know what it’s like to have secrets. I can keep a secret, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
She looked back at the family photos.
“That’s how we ended up in Germany. My godfather helped my dad and mom escape the attack. His family is old and powerful in Germany and we were safe there.” He shrugged. “They can’t leave or my dad will get into trouble.”
Emily clenched her jaw. “You think because you told me your family secret I’ll tell you mine?”
“You disappeared the day you arrived at Juilliard. You weren’t kidnapped, as many suspected.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Why do you say that?”
“What you did to your violin. It was a message. You silenced it.” He stepped closer and put his hands on her upper arms. “What happened? Why did you throw your talent away?”
He pulled her close and she found herself leaning her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. His arms around her made her want to melt against him. His chest was lean and hard. He smelled good, like rosin and old music. She slid her arms around his waist and he hugged her hard.
Why was she hugging him? Why was she opening herself to him? Because he told her a family secret?
Maybe.
She didn’t want to pull away. How long had it been since she’d been hugged? Held?
She shouldn’t. She should pull away. Run away.
She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here. Forever.
“I did silence my violin on purpose,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t play anymore.”
“Why?” he whispered.
She bit her lip. Had she hurt Rafael or her father at all by quitting? Had it had any impact on them at all?
Hadn’t she only hurt herself by running away?
But she couldn’t have done any different back then. Every time she picked up her violin it was a reminder she belonged to Rafael. That she was what he’d made her. He’d molded her, bent her to his will. Molded her into the perfect musical specimen. Controlled everything in her life and she couldn’t escape.
Until she could.
How did she explain that? What would Mark think of her, even if she could, somehow, manage to explain her reasons? She liked him holding her. She didn’t want it to end. And it would, if she told him the truth.
“Emma?” he said in a gentle voice.
Chills ran through her body as he called her by her real name. A name she’d not heard in ages, except from the lips of Geoffrey, and that was only to fuck with her mind.
Her name coming from Mark’s lips was like a balm on an inflamed wound. Like a fresh, cleansing spring rainstorm washing away the mud and filth, leaving the world sparkling clean. She wanted him to say it again. And again. And again. “Yes, that’s my name.”
“Why’d you change it?”
