“What the hell do you mean, no?” I stomped along beside him to the top of the stairs.
“What I said. No, you can’t. You will either compose with me in the room, or I will take your violin away and you won’t compose at all.”
I gasped. My legs stopped working, and I remained locked in one spot. No one had ever threatened to take my violin away. Not even my parents. Well, it had been a close thing once when my grades were tanking, but we’d come up with a compromise.
But there was no compromise in Pierce’s tone. How could he be so warm and adorable at dinner and a fucking dictator now?
“You can’t treat me like a child. I’m an adult, and I can make my own decisions. Just because you can’t see me as anything other than Sawyer’s little brother doesn’t mean you can dictate my life.”
Pierce stopped after a few feet and turned to me. His expression was stern, but there was also worry in his eyes. “This has nothing to do with your relationship with Sawyer. It’s about your health and well-being.” He walked to me and lightly placed his hand against my cheek, cradling my face while running his thumb across my cheekbone. “You struggle to set boundaries for yourself. You push yourself until you’re overwhelmed or utterly burned out. If this continues, you will make yourself very sick, and I refuse to let that happen. You’re too precious to burn out at such a young age.”
“But…” I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say to argue with him. The words died in my throat as a soft smile formed on his lips.
“Can we try it my way for a few days? If you find my presence too disruptive after a few attempts, I’ll leave, and you can go back to working on your own. I promise.”
“But what you hear, it won’t be perfect. Itwillbe noise.”
“True, but no one has ever written perfection on the first try. I want to hear the noise. I want to watch you create something. That’s the magic. Please. I would like to help.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but I couldn’t. He was evil and sneaky. There was no way I could deny his request.
And fuck it. Maybe he was right. I’d been trying for years to compose all alone. What if I needed an audience to create something? Or maybe I simply needed Pierce….
20
PIERCE SUTTON
I wokethe next morning to the sound of a violin. For several seconds, I lay there with my eyes closed, listening to the music. It took me a bit to realize that the sound was too close and too crisp to be a recording. And a moment after that, I realized I didn’t recognize the melody at all.
My eyes flew open, and I located Simon seated at the foot of the bed, shirtless and smirking at me as he played his violin. I had never been treated to a sexier sight upon waking in my life. His blond hair was still tousled from sleep, and there was a faint blush to his cheeks as if he’d just risen from bed. His bright-blue eyes twinkled with amusement.
With one arm behind my head, I let out a long, happy sigh as I listened to him. My gaze strayed across strong arms made muscular and lean from countless hours of playing. Faint golden hair sprinkled his lean chest, leading to his flat stomach. He was a nymph or a faerie that had come to lead me to disaster, and I couldn’t turn away.
The song lasted another few minutes, and when he lifted his bow, the last note hung in the air before completely fading away.
“What do you think?”
“I loved it. What’s it from? I didn’t recognize it.”
That smile turned impish as Simon carefully returned his violin to its case, which was resting on a nearby chair. “I wrote it.”
My eyes widened, but I tamped down my enthusiasm, not wanting to scare him. We’d spent hours last night working through all the music he’d written, making piles of what had potential and what he had no intention of using. He’d played bits here and there for me, explaining his thoughts and influences. I’d liked what I’d heard and believed he had a fantastic start, but I hadn’t wanted to say too much and put pressure on him. He was doing enough of that on his own.
“For the concerto?”
He returned to the bed and crawled up until he was straddling me, his hands pressed into the pillows. “No, I wrote it for you. I woke up, and the melody was so crisp and clear in my head. I could barely write fast enough to get it all on paper. It’s calledPierce’s Nocturne. Should I play it at the next CSO show?”
“No.” The word leaped off my tongue before I could catch it. “I mean, of course you can. It’s beautiful. People are going to adore it. I adore it.”
Simon’s smile grew even wider, and his tone became teasing. “But you don’t want to share it, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t want anyone else to hear it yet. I want it to be ours for a little while.”
Of course I didn’t want to share it. I’d only just heard it for the first time. He’d written it while lying in bed with me. Couldn’t I have it all to myself for a bit? The rest of the world could have it eventually. I wouldn’t dare hold back Simon from sharing his gift with the world, but I wanted to hoard this special nugget as long as I could.
“Yes,” Simon agreed with a soft hiss. “It’s yours. I don’t want anyone else to hear it. I’ll trade you the only sheet music copy in the world for a kiss.”
How could I turn that down even if he was joking?
