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“No, some were born to bite the hand that feeds them.” Anger blazes in her eyes, burning so fiercely that it has my pulse racing. As much as our tête-à-tête is distracting me, I cut off her smart retort before it leaves her lips. “Quiet now, Eve. The only sound I want to hear coming from your direction is your violin. You’re going to play for me.”
Silent astonishment tugs at her frowning face as she takes the bow I offer her. Confusion and debate war in her stare as she tucks the violin to her chin. The action is so familiar to her that the comfort it brings her is instant. The love she has for her instrument and music lights up her entire demeanour with the quick warm-up of her fingers and strings.
“Your father and your brother,” I say when she stops. Maybe it’s the sound that reminds me so much of my own father that prompts me. Or maybe it’s the soured vestiges of our conversation. In truth, the longer I think on how to carry on, I realise that it’s my disregard for their sacrifice that is nagging me. “They did an honourable thing…protecting their country. You, me…they fought for us all.” Just like my father.
Eve nods. This might be the only thing we ever agree on, but I like that it thaws her to me. “What would you like to hear?” she asks me in a soft, wet whisper.
Those fucking breathtaking tears hang on her lashes again, threatening to fall if I don’t pluck them for myself. And I want to, so much that my fingertips ache for it. I might have to sit on my hands to stop myself if we carry on like this.
“Your Grace?” she prompts.
“Anything.” In truth, this wasn’t what I had planned for her. And although my physical needs are disappointed that I’m holding back, the rest of me just wants to hold her here for as long as I can. I want to revel in the distraction that she’s provided me with. “Everything…but what they asked you?”
A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she drags in a deep breath and stands. The instant she begins to play, I’m hooked, completely suckered into the lonely melody of Barber’s Adagio. A pang of beauty hits me square in the chest, lighting every one of my senses. And if I didn’t think she was beautiful before, she’s the most wondrous thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Lost to her music, Eve’s magnificent. So breathtaking that I don’t know if I’m ever going to let her walk out of here again.
CHAPTER THREE
EVE
The door opens, and the door closes. The monotony of my day to day becomes starker by the second, with every ding of the bell above the coffee shop door. The small independent cafe doesn’t get half of the footfall it could, given its basic offerings, but it gives me time to catch up on my coursework while making enough money to rent a small flat and still have energy to work evenings at Heath House, a private members club where all the politicians go along with their richer-than-God acquaintances. It’s part of the reason I ended up at Hush last night.
Hush.
Seems like my whole universe has suddenly fallen silent, with my thoughts blaring nonstop. All I can hear is his voice. It’s always there in the background, even while I’m trying to focus on the pizzicato rhythm of the music playing around me. I’ve never met a man so forthright and surly. Every word that comes out of his mouth is cutting, and I hate that even after four years of looking after myself, he made me feel like a child. I hate that for a moment, when he was boiling over with grief, I felt sorry for him. Sympathy, empathy, and naïve stupidity had me thinking that there was some humanity in him.
How wrong was I?
Or I thought I was until he tried to make me feel better about Dad and Joe.
Or maybe he was buttering me up to make up for the arsehole, shithead behaviour.
One last attempt to get into my pants. The cynic in me jeers as I give up annotating the sheet music in front of me and start cleaning up.
Maybe I can close early, eat something before starting my shift at Heath Hou—the thought is gone before I’ve had the chance to finish it and the door dings open again.
“Hi, what can I get you?” I ask, spinning away from the fridge.
It takes a second too long for my brain to catch up with my eyes. But when it does, my chest constricts. People like him don’t come to this coffee shop.
“Hello, Eve.” He smiles warmly.
The softness of his greeting leaves me confused. Last night, he was as cool as the others, even if he tried to spare me from the Duke.
“Hi.” He comes closer, perching himself on one of the counter stools. “What can I get you?”
He continues to smile while appraising me from top to toe. “What do you recommend? What’s the house speciality?”
Okay…clearly he hasn’t got the measure of this place. “Coffee. Tea. Ummm…”
“What tea do you have?” I point at the shelf by the coffee machine where the teas are lined up below the menu. “I’ll take a pot of Earl Grey.”
Resisting the urge to laugh at his request, I grab a mug and side plate and serve him his tea with an espresso cup of milk on the side. This is the fanciest drink I’ve served the whole time I’ve been working here.
“Do you happen to have a slice of lemon?”
“Listen…” I pause to allow him to fill in the blank with his name because the few times we’ve met, he hasn’t said much to me; he’s been in the background.
“My name is Percival Kent, and I—”
