Page 53 of Twisted Fate

“You can’t be serious,” I say, my fingers already itching to play.

She grins. “It’ll make you feel better.” She drops a key on the counter. “No one else is in there. Go take a break and relax.”

“Thank you.” I grab the key and head for the ballroom before I can talk myself out of it. I hurry down the hallway as if I’m about to be caught doing something I shouldn’t.

After unlocking the door and closing it behind me, I take in the room. It’s elegant: gold walls, high ceilings, over-the-top chandeliers. The marble floor is so smooth it makes me want to lie on it and stare at the twinkling lights. My eyes land on the piano, and I suck in a breath as I walk over to it. It’s the most amazing piano I’ve ever seen. I can see my reflection in the glossy black finish. I lift the lid that covers the keys; they look as if they’ve never been touched. I run my fingers along them without pressing any and then sit on the bench. With a breath, forcing the tension out of my system, I put my fingers to the keys again. I can lose myself in the music. That’s what convinced me to come in here. A part of me is worried I’ll get caught, but the other part doesn’t care.

I wrote a song the last time I went home for a weekend. I don’t know where it came from, but the lyrics flew through me. As my fingers graze the keys, I sing, keeping in tune with the soft, deep key of the song that matches the lyrics.

He’s an unstable bomb

He makes me feel wrong

He makes me feel right

But that’s not for tonight

By the middle of the song, I’m belting it out with thick emotion laced in every word.

I hate that I wrote this damn song, but even more, I hate that it’s abouthim.

He shows his soft side

And will start to confide

But then makes a huge mess

Of the life I have left

The song comes to a close. Eyes shut and my hands in my lap, I sit there, taking several deep breaths before I open them again.

Clapping sounds behind me, shooting a wicked shiver up my spine, and I freeze.

“Boundaries mean nothing to you, do they?” Tristan’s amused voice carries through the empty room and latches onto my heart, sending it racing.

I scowl and turn to look at him. “You’re one to talk.”

He approaches at the same time I stand from the bench. Leaning against the side of the piano, I try to pull off a casual stance that fails epically. Damn. I need to get better at this shit.

“I own this hotel, Aurora, therefore nowhere is out of bounds for me.”

I roll my eyes. “Because that’s what I meant,” I respond dryly.

“I didn’t know you could play,” he comments, glancing at the piano.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Duly noted. That song you were playing, did you write it?”

My cheeks flush, and I want to look away. By the smug grin tugging at his lips, I can tell he already knows. “Yeah.”

“I like it.”

I rock back on my heels, wishing I could use that fae shifting trick to get the hell out of this room, away from his gaze. “Uh, thanks.”

“Max said you took off. What happened?”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

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