Page 83 of The Pucking Arrangement

My grip tightens on the railing.

I should be focused on the music. On the fact that this is one of the most technically difficult duets ever written, played flawlessly by two undeniable talents.

Instead, all I see is Luka leaning in. Smirking. Devouring her with his eyes while their bows glide through the final phrase. When she smiles at him, his answering grin is the last fucking straw.

My grip on the railing tightens. I could snap it in half. Iwantto snap it in half.

Sophie’s hand lands on my arm. “Easy, tiger. Save the checking for the ice.”

The applause still echoes in my ears as we weave through the crowd backstage. Ris bounces ahead, clutching the bouquet of roses I picked up before the show, practically vibrating with excitement. I try—and fail—not to focus on the way Erin’s dress clings to her back, damp with the effort of her performance.

She’s glowing.Flushed from the stage, breathless from the music, the aftershocks of Shostakovich still humming through her body.

Fucking hell.

“Papa, hurry!”

But we’re not the first ones there.

Luka’s already in the green room, draped against the piano like it was placed there for him.

“Incredible performance,” he’s saying, voice warm and dripping with admiration. “Shostakovich was fire.”

Erin’s still catching her breath, loose tendrils of hair clinging to her temples. She looks wrecked in the best way, like she gave herself to the music completely, like she’s still half in another world.

And this asshole wants to talk about it?

“Erin!” Ris launches herself forward before I can form words. “You were so pretty! Like a princess who plays cello!”

“Thank you, sweet girl.” Erin laughs, catching her easily. The sight of them together is so right. “Did you like the music?”

“The fast part was like lightning!”

“Speaking of electric combinations,” Luka interjects effortlessly, his dimpled grin lighting up the room, “we need to discuss a collaboration. Your technical mastery and stunning appearance paired with my arrangements? We’d break the internet.”

My jaw actually creaks.

“Careful,” Liam mutters behind me. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The murder face.”

I force myself to breathe.Be civil. Don’t throw the man into a cello case.

Luka steps closer to Erin, still riding the high of the performance. “Drinks?” he suggests nonchalantly. “There’s a great wine bar around the corner. We could celebrate, go over a few ideas?”

I’m about to commit a felony when Erin’s eyes find mine.

“Actually,” she says, and I swear she sways toward me, “I should probably head home. It’s late, and I’m exhausted.”

Luka’s smile falters, just slightly. “But surely one drink?—”

“Rain check?” she says smoothly, already reaching for her coat. The one I brought for her. “Let’s connect tomorrow about the YouTube thing.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Luka’s gaze lingers a beat too long. “You were magnificent tonight,draga.”

I move before I can think, taking her coat and holding it open. My hands are steady, though my pulse isn’t.

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