Page 1 of Hero & Villain
Chapter One
VILLAIN
Istormed out of the concert hall, still clutching my bow. My chest was constricting, with the same pressure I felt when I took an elevator without doing my special breathing exercises.
I forced myself to take one slow breath and then two, but the pressure didn’t ease. I pulled out my phone and pushed the button with a rainbow butterfly picture on it.
“Villain Incorporated. If you’ve got the crime, I’ve got the time,” Toni answered in her best lowdown Boston accent.
I scowled at Clark, my chauffeur, as he opened my door. “He fired me! He can’t fire me. I own his orchestra. He said he didn’t care. The music is more important than money. Who says that? I mean, he’s ancient. He’s too old to be idealistic and naive.” I slipped into the silver sedan. It blended in well with all the other subtly expensive cars on the hill. Clark closed the door, leaving me alone to vent my woes to my favorite minion. Too bad villains didn’t have sidekicks, because Toni would rock it.
“Calm down, Vil. You’re saying your Maestro, the conductor of the Boston Symphony, quit teaching you? Why? You’re the best cellist he’s ever had. You also give a ridiculous amount of funding.”
I blew a raspberry that would give my grandfather a heart attack. My chest was still too tight. “I know! He says I’m too good. That’s the whole problem! He can’t tolerate my privacy when I owe my music to the world. If I don’t solo with his orchestra, it’s over. And I’m not playing publicly like some common musician, so it’s over.”
“Of course not,” she said dryly. “Except you might like playing for other people who can appreciate classics.”
I rubbed my chest as my heart beat faster. “No, I won’t.” My music was my soul. Selling it to the world would be like selling my soul. Not that I believed in souls, but if I did, I wasn’t selling mine. Also, my grandfather would kill me. Not kill me, but possibly break all my fingers and kill Maestro. Which would serve him right for betraying me like this. It was Thursday. I needed music to survive my Thursdays, particularly recently.
Maybe it was living in the penthouse apartment of the tallest apartment building in Boston. Lately, it had taken ages to get my heart rate level after riding in the elevator. And I couldn’t eat if I was anywhere near the windows. Vertigo, nausea, but I’d conquered my fear of heights years ago. Why was it coming back now? I didn’t have time for issues.
“Fine. Then you can find another world-class musical genius to take over the symphony. Everything’ll work out. It always does. In happy news, the minions have compiled the necessary data to cherry-top your most recent score.”
“Cherry top? Speak English.”
She sighed. “Like, put the cherry on top. You can draw a nice bath, do some light hacking, and eat that irritating company that’s been infringing on Haversham for dinner.”
I wrinkled my nose and then tapped on the glass so Clark rolled it down. “Take me to the spa.”
He rolled it back up without saying anything.
“The Spa? On a Thursday? Maybe you can play hooky. The fiancé can’t expect you to perform every week like an automaton. You’re a real person with feelings.”
I snorted. “Now that’s funny. I’ll hack and wax at the same time.”
“Sounds like a mixed martial arts move. Ki-ya! Seriously though, even villains have feelings. And perfectionism is…” She sighed heavily while my nails started to itch. “I just feel like you’re going to have a mental breakdown someday and then join a monastery, and then who will keep me from the boys? Without guidance, I’m impulsive.”
“That was a long time ago. You’re the most reliable sharpie I’ve ever met. Speaking of, is your cover still solid?”
Toni was playing an intern at one of the oldest firms in the city, a good base for the next score after we wrapped this one up.
“Solid as ice.”
“Ice melts.”
“Not in this weather. Have you seen the forecast? Stay warm, oh evil one.”
I rolled my eyes and hung up. I did feel much better after talking to her, well enough that I could push thoughts of Maestro out of my head and focus on business.
One foot of melted wax ripped out my hair follicles while I flinched, but kept my eyes glued on the laptop propped under my chin while I lay on my stomach.
I had to multi-task if I was going to maintain my share of my grandfather’s business interests as well as my position as Clint Harrison’s debutante fiancé, perfectly cold as a statue. Emphasison perfect. Perfection was a necessary part of playing a Boston socialite, whatever Toni said about me edging towards a nervous breakdown. I shouldn’t tell her about my vulnerabilities, but she’d made it one of the terms of our friendship the first time she found me hyperventilating after going up an elevator. She couldn’t have my back if she didn’t know the enemy. And she would always have my back.
I frowned at the screen, at the ones and zeroes that I was following to the source code while Emmett, one half of the Swedish twins, slapped his large hand over my burning skin, cooling lotion applied in the most painful way possible.
I wasn’t distracted by pain, but it was annoying, particularly on such an irritating day. I still couldn’t believe that Maestro had given me an ultimatum: play soloist with his symphony, or find another teacher. Ridiculous. My fiancé didn’t have an opinion about my cello playing. If I’d wanted to join a symphony and tour the world, he’d be fine as long as it didn’t interfere with his social networking. Or Thursdays.
I winced, and not because of the Swedish twins, before I focused on my work, breaking through the protective barrier of Harness Global’s security system. I had someone on the inside, a beacon attached to a computer so that I could get in, steal the intel, and get out without a trace.
