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CHAPTER1
Ariella
* * *
Notes bouncedand danced through the air, carrying Ariella away into the flow of the music. Her fingers gently skated across the piano keys. Her voice melted into the melody, and for a moment, she lost herself to it.
“You remind me of your mother when you’re like this.” Her father’s deep voice cut through the sweetness of the song. Ariella pulled her fingers from the piano keys as though they burnt her fingertips. Her father’s presence spoiled the air of the room.
“Father.” She swung her legs around the piano bench to face him. Henry Trident stood in the doorway of her music room. His hands relaxed at his sides, studying his youngest daughter, his graying hair swept back from his face, which his thick beard covered.
“Don’t stop on my account.” He stepped further into the room, glancing at the sheets on the music shelf. “Lord knows I’ve paid enough for all those lessons over the years.” He forced a smile, but she’d become an expert on the degree of his grins. He was about to bring her bad news and was doing his best to lay pleasant groundwork before he dropped the bombshell.
“I was just playing around.” She folded her hands in her lap and forced her own sweet smile for his benefit. The question she wanted to ask would have to wait. He had an agenda, and it was always best to let him go first when they spoke.
“Hmm.” He made his way to the piano and struck a key. They remained silent as it finished its vibration.
“You’re home early.” Ariella closed the folder with her sheet music and brought it to the desk across the room, sliding it into the top drawer.
“My meeting finished early,” he said. She’d never been able to find out exactly what her father did to earn all the money he brought home, the expensive cars, the enormous estate she enjoyed living on, but the secrecy of it told her it wasn’t anything good. You don’t shove good deeds into the shadows.
She closed the drawer and turned to face him, pressing herself against the desk. Her father had gifted her the music room for her sixteenth birthday six years ago after he’d had enough of hearing her practice her instruments in her bedroom. Her father had soundproofed the music room so she wouldn’t disturb the rest of the household with her ‘hobby’.
“I was meeting with Robert Faulkins,” he said.
Warning shot fired.
“How is Mr. Faulkins?” She pressed her hands against the desk’s sharp edge, letting it cut into her palms.
“He’s fine.” Henry’s lips spread into a wide but thin grin. The small talk stretched his patience.
“Good.” She nodded.
“Ariella.” He took a deep breath, readying for the big drop. “While I was with him, we discussed your future.”
Another warning shot, closer to the mark now.
“My future?” She couldn’t stop the little laugh escape. “Shouldn’t I have been there for such a discussion?”
“No, not for this sort of talk.” He shook his head, completely ignoring the sarcasm in her tone. “His son, Chad, just finished his business on the east coast. He’s back home now. He’s Robert’s middle son, so he won’t be inheriting the family business unless something happens to Bradley, but he will take on a lot of responsibility. He will be an excellent–.”
“No.” She cut him off with a slash of her hand. “Don’t say it, Father. Please, don’t tell me you sat with Mr. Faulkins, discussing how his middle son would make a good husband for me. Don’t tell me that.” She raised her chin.
“Ariella.” His voice hardens. “Chadwillmake a good husband. He will provide for you and all the children you’ll have. It’s a good match.”
“I won’t do it.” She’d told him this more than once, and from the frown onhis lips, he didn’t care for it any more this time than in the past.
“You are already older than your sisters when they were married, Ariella.” He reminded her. “All of their marriages were arranged, and they never complained. Not one word.”
And they hadn’t. Each of them had taken their marching orders and happily glided down the aisle to their futures.
“None of them wanted anything more than to get married and be spoiled the rest of their lives. They had no dreams, no aspirations. They aren’t me, Father. I do have dreams. Big ones.” She pushed away from the desk, becoming more animated with her speech.
“Dreams?” He said the word like he hated the taste of it. “What dreams? Singing? Playing these little instruments?” He waved his hand around the room at her variety of instruments.
“Yes, Father.” She took several steps toward him. “That’s exactly what I want to do. I want to make music. That’s what I want to do. I’ll get married, but not right now. Not yet.” She took a breath. “Let me chase my dream first. Then I’ll get married. To a man I choose. I swear it, Father, I will get married. And you won’t have to support me. I can make money singing in clubs. Good money. I can get my own apartment, even. You won’t have to support –“
“Enough!” He swiped a hand through the air, his thick, graying eyebrows pulled together. “My daughter, singing in clubs?”
