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He waits another tense moment, then turns to me and replies, "I told you that in a year, you'll be way ahead of where you are now."
My heart swoons, and I blink hard. I'm not used to anyone supporting my dreams.
"Do you write music or just play?" the ogler asks.
Riggs's jaw twitches. In an authoritative tone, he asks, "Is there anything else you need?"
The other delivery guy clears his throat, stating, "We just need you to sign here." He pushes a clipboard in front of Riggs.
He scribbles his name and then points to the door. "Please wait outside for me. I'll be just a moment."
Confusion fills both men's faces.
"Sure," the one with the clipboard replies.
The ogler gives me a final glance and follows his co-worker outside.
Riggs steps over to the kitchen island. He reaches for a black leather notepad and crystal pen, then returns to me. "These are for you."
I run my hand over the smooth leather and open it. The left side is blank. The right has rows of staves, which are five parallel lines for drawing musical notes. I gape at it, overwhelmed.
Riggs waits for me to speak.
I finally lock eyes with him. "This is too much."
"I promised to take care of you as well as further your career," he states.
"But this...this..."
"What?" he questions.
I blurt out, "I always assumed you'd be a lot like my father."
Riggs's face hardens. He claims, "I'm nothing like him."
I add, "You're partners. I figured you have the same beliefs and would look down on my musical ambitions."
"I gave you that impression?" he seethes.
I shake my head. "No. I-I just assumed—"
"You assumed wrong, Blakely," he snaps.
I gasp, unprepared for his anger. "I'm sorry. My attraction for you should have made me realize you aren't anything like him. I didn't mean it as an insult. I'm grateful for everything. Really, I am."
His face softens, and he nods. "Fair enough."
I glance behind me at the piano, still shocked he bought it. I gush, "It really is beautiful."
He grips my shoulders and spins me toward it, tugging me against his hard body. His hot breath hits my ear, and he murmurs, "You know what's going to be even more beautiful?"
Zings fill my stomach. I tilt my head up, asking, "What?"
A sinister expression explodes across his face. His fingers trace my collar, then gracefully unclasp it. He removes it, then kisses the curve of my neck, murmuring, "Your upgrade."
"What's that?" I question, reach for his head, and slide my fingers through his thick locks, shivering from the touch of his lips.
He retreats, grabs my hand, and holds it to my stomach. I feel naked from the lack of his lips and collar.
