Page 78 of If I Were Yours

Once I’m full, I retreat to the couch with my Kindle. My fingers still jitter with the urge to try the piano, but I’m so calm I could sleep, so I’d rather lie down with a book. Besides, I still have at least three more hours left here—plenty to do both.

So I crawl under the blanket, place my head on the pillow, and turn on my Kindle. Before long, I’m blinking to focus on the words, and soon my hand holding the Kindle droops as I slip into a comfortable sleep.

When I wake again, my Kindle is safely placed on a side table, and the green desk lamp has replaced the ceiling light, which casts a gentle glow over the center of the room.

I’m a bit disappointed I didn’t wake when Grigory came up here, but it’s probably a good thing. I actually feel well-rested now even though I’ve only had a short nap.

I crane my head to see the clock above the door. Nine forty. Well, more like a very long nap. Grigory just might have been up here twice if he made it in both intermissions. By now, the opera must be nearing its end. Then, of course, there’s all the clapping, so it might be a while yet before he’s back.

Closing my eyes and snuggling up under the blanket, I spend another twenty minutes dozing before I wake from Grigory bustling about, clearing away the food and getting ready to leave.

He’s in his finest suit with a tailcoat and white butterfly. His hair is an unruly mess, damp at the edges from the exertion of conducting a three-hour-long opera.

I spend a few minutes taking in the delicious vision before he notices I’m awake.

“Good morning,” he says with amusement dancing in his eyes, swiping his hair back from his forehead.

“Good morning.” I flicker my eyes up and down, feeling shy as ever under his powerful gaze.

“Ready to go home?” he asks as he puts my Kindle in my shoulder bag and closes the zipper.

“Not really.” I tug the blanket up under my chin.

“You’ve really gotten comfortable here, huh?” He gives me a lopsided smile before shoving his sheet music into his brown leather briefcase. “But I think you’d sleep better in a real bed.”

With a disgruntled moan, I push up to sit and rub my eyes. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

Grigory takes my jacket from where I left it on the chair and walks across the room to crouch in front of me. “Devochka,” he says with startling sincerity, “I enjoy having you here.” He glides his fingertips up across my cheek, into my hair, and curves his large hand around the side of my face.

I lean into his touch as I stare into the mesmerizing depth of his gaze. “You do?”

I don’t know why it’s hard to believe; I know Grigory cares about me. But something’s missing. Something essential. Like when he leans close to my face and glances down at my lips like he does now.

“I do,” he confirms. “Very much.”

My tongue darts out to lick my lips, and I don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he follows the motion. He wants to kiss me. Badly.

But like every other time, he breaks away. “Put on your jacket.” He tosses it on the couch and turns his back to me as he goes to retrieve his own.

I feel torn again when we leave his office. Torn between the man I love and the man I need but can’t have. The tension is back, this time between Grigory and me as he steers me through the building with a hand pressed to the small of my back.

Then he has his driver drop us off at Markus’s place, where he tucks me into his best friend’s bed and leaves to go home and sleep in his own bed. Without me.

— CHAPTER 29 —

CLARA

I jerk awake in the middle of the night and stare into pitch-black darkness. My heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing working at a frantic rhythm, filling the silence with my own terror.

Flickering my eyes back and forth, I search the darkness for something. Anything to reassure me, or maybe a reassurance that there isn’t anything here.

But everything is black. Barely the faint stripes of light around the curtains will break through the void.

Loneliness squeezes my heart, and the darkness is like a living force, closing in on me, slithering across my skin, and squeezing the air from my lungs.

I fling my hand to the side and fumble for the night light until a yellow glow breaks the black canvas.

But it’s not enough. The light is too weak. Feeble. Like the darkness could sneak up and snuff it out at any moment.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com