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I come to a stop in front of a pair of double doors, one of which is still bolted shut. The other is held open by a discarded table leg. I pause in the doorway. I'm not sure why I don't go inside. I prefer to linger.
A woman sits in a metal chair in the center of the room. She's posed about halfway away from me. Two teenage girls sit on the carpeted metal stand risers, whispering softly to one another. Their gaze shifts to me, curious about my intrusion but not alarmed enough to disrupt the performance.
The teacher plays with her eyes closed, and I only catch glimpses of her angular features and sharp jawline as she shifts with the notes she plays sobeautifully. Her blonde hair is cropped close to the natural line of her jaw. Even from a distance, I can tell she's a stunningly beautiful woman.
If I close my eyes, I might be able to imagine myself in a private box seat at any symphony concert I've ever attended. She's far more talented than I'd expect a teacher in this placeto be.
I attend every live classical performance available to me, not that it’s a fact I would ever readily advertise. It’s both a weakness of mine and my greatest joy, as I never had the talent to play a single note myself.
If she’s aware that she’s no longer alone, she doesn’t show it. It’s a really remarkable way to introduce a new group of students to a class. The few that have already arrived are enraptured by her as her bow slides so easily over the strings. Her passion must come from a place of great sadness to be able to play Chopin so well.
I’m almost ashamed that it took me so long to recognize the piece asEtude Op. 25 No. 7. The music flows through her, magnifies in intensity, and I’m as enthralled as her students.
I want… to know her. I want to know what sort of pain a person from this town could endure to make her play so authentically.
As the final notes begin to play, my hand slides into my pocket and I lean against the closed door. I flip over the small object I've brought with me in my hand and back again. It's a tracker for Helena when I find her. Something that will allow me to monitor her movements and find the ideal moment to exact Nikolai's revenge on her.
Imagine my surprise when she fumbles the final note and sharply turns to look at me with the most piercing gray eyes I've ever seen in my life. And they belong to the woman whose image I've been carrying around for weeks while putting this whole plantogether.
Helena Russev.
I’ve found you.
CHAPTERTHREE
Daniel
For a long, breathless moment, I’m transfixed. Her eyes are the color of a sea after a storm. There’s something restless just below the surface. She flashes a carefully polite smile in my direction. Another person might not notice the way her shoulders stiffen at the sight of me, but I do.
Who would have known this would be so simple? I expected to find Helena scrubbing floors or toilets somewhere with her head tucked down low. I certainly never thought that she would beteaching. Something about the notion of this viper being allowed access to young, impressionable minds doesn’t sit right with me. If evenoneof those young women in the room gets to perceive her as a role model, the world will surely suffer for it.
And I like the idea of her being in a classroom with Henry even less.
She observes the clothes I'm wearing. Her gaze moves slowly over my figureagainst the doorframe, from my polished shoes to the tailored fit of my button-down and vest. Three-piece suits are uncommon here. When she looks at me with those tempested eyes, I politely smile. I'm the perfect representation of any curious parent in this room. She has no evidence of the contrary.
“You play wonderfully,” I say casually.
She offers me a tight-lipped smile in return. “Thank you, I hope that soon the students will learn to play even better than I do.”
I expected her voice to be more sultry. I had this whole image and persona built up for her inside of my head. She’s currently not living up to it. Instead of siren eyes and a sexy pout, she almost comes across as demure. Her innocence could easily entice any man into her games. She exudes a fragile aura, as if she's something I should want to protect. I'm not sure how she does it, but I want to be closer to her—as if she has some sort of enchantment that wants to consume me whole.
“With you being their teacher, I have no doubt they soon will.” I push off the doorway, hoping to bridge that gap between us. Placing a tracking device on her is going to be more difficult than I thought. I can pretend to be interested in greeting her formally and perhaps slip it inside of the open cello case by her feet. But I can’t know for sure that she intends to take it home with her this evening.
She’s not wearing a jacket, and I can’t see a purse from where I’m standing. I cannot be any more obvious in my searching than that.
Helena opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something else when a small voice makes itself known behind me.
“Excuse me,” a young boy likely the same age as Henry but much smaller tugs on my shirt sleeve. “I just… This is my class. Sorry.” his circular lenses bob up and down as he speaks.
“Not at all,” I say and step aside quickly. It’s for the best that he interrupted us. I'm afraid if I stared at her for another second, I might have donesomething foolish. I've never felt the need to be so close to a woman. I want to decipher the silent agony hidden behind her striking gray eyes.
Nikolai warned me to be careful.She has a knack for working herself under your skin, in ways you would never expect.When he said those words to me, I didn’t think much of them. I figured that it was a standard cautionary warning. She looks wholly different now than when Nikolai had been engaged to her, but there is no mistaking her. A chameleon in human form, it would seem.
At least she will keep things interesting until I can dispose of her quietly.
The small boy ducks around me and into the classroom while adjusting the straps of his backpack. “Sorry I’m late ma’am,” he whispers without making eye contact.
Helena transforms into someone warm and inviting in front of my eyes. She oozes motherly kindness, and nearly all of the other students watching her sit up straighter as a result of the subtle shift in her demeanor. It’s mesmerizing.
