Page 45 of Fated Love with You
Repositioning her bow, she plays it back—nailing the phrasing and vibratos.
“Much better,” I say. “That time was more than okay.”
“I didn’t know you could play.” Her eyes light up. “And well, too! I mean, I don’t expect most people to be trash, but… you’re not at all. A bit rusty maybe on the upswings, but—wow.”
“I used to be like you,” I say. “But you’re definitely further along in your own lane.”
“You stopped?”
“Yes and no… Life got in the way.”
“Is my dad really forcing you to look after me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not as bad as my teachers in London and Mrs. Foglienne claim,” she says quietly. “I promise.”
“I believe you.”
“Can you try not to tell my dad anything bad about me while you’re watching me? Please?”
“Um, sure.” I blink. “Why would I ever do that?”
“I need you to promise.” She holds out her pinky. “If I don’t run anyone off, maybe he’ll let me stay.”
I swallow, knowing he’s definitely sending her back.
“I won’t tell him anything bad about you, Adele.” I twist her pinky. “I’m looking forward to hanging out with you.”
“Me too, now that I know you can play.” She grabs a chair and motions for me to sit, stacking sheet music on the stand in front of us. “You play the first part, stop, and I’ll pick up where you left off.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to object. Her bow’s already poised.
Midway through, Ryder steps into the doorway, watching. But by the time we finish, he’s gone.
Later that night,I thumb through the racks of designer clothes that were delivered to my room.
I have forty minutes before I’m due to meet Adele and Ryder for late-night ice cream and Chopin, so I settle on lavender silk pajamas. While reviewing the list of approved contacts for Adele, I pause at the last entry.
Crafts & Notes.
I glance at the number and smile. My old job. But… what about Adele’s friends?
I walk to Ryder’s office to ask, but he’s not there. As I’m heading down the hall, I catch sight of him stepping into his bedroom, phone pressed to his ear.
“I said no,” he says. “That’s the end of it. And there’s only one more thing I need to know before I leave tonight.”
His back is turned, but the tension radiating from him is unmistakable.
“I’ll shoot him myself. Just make him suffer until I arrive to finish the job.”
A chill races down my spine. His voice is calm—almost bored—but the words are razor sharp. My breath catches, and I instinctively step back, only to bump into the wall.
“No. That won’t be necessary. Thank you.” He ends the call and turns around.
When he sees me, something hard flickers in his eyes—like I’m not someone he was inside days ago. Like I’m a threat.
“I uh…” I hold up the list. “I was just?—”
