Page 95 of Redeeming the Villain

“Dad …” My eyes burn. “Have you ever considered that perhaps the villain all along is you?”

He’s quiet, taking his time to respond. “If you view me as the bad guy, then I can live with that. I can’t live with you falling under his spell.”

“You speak a lot on his behalf for someone who claims to not know him at all.”

“You speak a lot on a subject you don’t truly understand for someone who relies on the kingdom that I’ve spent decades building.” He takes a shaky breath. “Do you like school there? Do you like your accommodations? Because I could change it likethat,” he snaps.

He can do whatever he wants to me. I’ll prevail.

“How about your aunts? Would they be supportive of your new relationship if I stopped funding their lives?”

My blood runs cold.

They have money of their own, but it’s not enough to sustain them. When they left the umbrella of this life, they gave up the wealth, making a deal with my father to live off of a much smaller allowance. But I refuse to let him hurt them because of me.

“You wouldn’t.” I’m breathless.

“Push me, Alora, and you’ll find out that some lessons are harder to learn than others. I’ve never coddled you, but I’ve always done what’s best for you in the end. This is one of those times, Little Rose. One day, you’ll thank me.”

Hearing his childhood nickname for me tugs at my heartstrings, but it does little to ease the bone-chilling fear rattling me to the core.

Three beeps signal that he hung up, but I don’t move the phone from my ear. I’m frozen in place, stunned by what just happened.

I can live with him taking money from me, but from my aunts? The three strongest women I know who gave up everything to raise me? I won’t hurt them in the process.

When I drop the phone into my lap, the screen lights up, and I see the time. Crap, I need to get going. I have practice with Von London. I’m performing the hardest piece today for him.

Sliding off of the bed, I step into my white tennis shoes. They might look odd with the flowy pink corset top and jeans I’m wearing, but I care more about the blood flow in my body than I do the fashion sense.

Hooking Sunny’s leash onto her new pink service dog harness that finally arrived, I grab my purse and water bottle and head to Moor Hall.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the invitation to the showcase this spring. I’m going to prepare the most perfect piece for it.

Music is what makes my soul feel full, and I’m honored that my talent and passion are being recognized. Especially by someone as infamous as him.

Von London waits outside of our usual practice room, his face lighting up when he spots Sunny and me. More nervous than usual, I take a few steady breaths before I reach him.

“Good evening, Alora,” he greets me with a light hug.

“Good evening, sir.”

I awkwardly accept his hug, and he lingers for a moment too long, but I try not to think anything of it.

We have been spending a lot of time together in sessions. It’s normal to grow a fondness for someone, I suppose.

Pulling away, I open the door, letting Sunny lead the way inside.

Taking a seat on the bench, I lift the piano lid and run my fingers over the keys out of habit. Von London walks in behind us, sitting in his usual seat at the table.

“I’ve been looking forward to hearing you play this one. It’s my all-time favorite work.” He gestures with his hand. “Whenever you’re ready.”

No pressure, just playing Rupert Von London’s own piece to him, one he knows like the back of his hand.

Setting the music up on the stand, I close my eyes as my fingers find their starting place. I don’t need the music; I’ve memorized it already, as I often do with any composition I play more than a handful of times.

Something about the music just clicks into my brain.

I inhale, and then I strike the first chords on the exhale, my breath flowing through the notes. And then I melt away into the song, my body simply a vessel to bring the melodic art to life.

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