Page 2 of Thorns of Death
Icaught him looking at me before the show started.
Dark eyes. A sprinkling of silver in his jet-black hair. A thin layer of stubble. And the ghost of a smile that could bring you to your knees.
The air caught in my lungs as I felt his eyes on me like a cool breeze against my heated skin. Usually men—the ones in my field at least—watched me with a single purpose. To get me into bed and brag about it to their fellow symphonists. I could never quite pinpoint what drew their eyes to me. Was it the unconventional, vibrant dresses I wore while I played the violin? The spotlight I got while on the stage? Or maybe it was simply the way I let myself feel the music.
But this guy looked at me like he wanted to consume me. Devour me. Own me.
And I’d let him.
The term “hot daddy” never made sense until this very moment. He was older, but definitely notold. Maybe double my age, if I had to guess.
I inhaled deeply, but there wasn’t enough oxygen to loosen up this knot in my chest. His black eyes burned through me, tracing down my body and studying my every curve. Did he like what he saw? God, I hoped so.
Arousal shot through me, sending a shiver down my spine. I should look away. I should turn my back to him. But I didn’t.
Instead, with a thundering heart and excitement running through my veins, I blew him a kiss and winked playfully. What the heck? We only live once.
“Isla, are you ready?”
Athena’s voice pulled my attention away from the stranger. I turned to find her staring at me, right along with Phoenix.
“Ready for what?” I asked, confused.
“We agreed you’d play before Reina’s fashion show starts,” she muttered. “I swear, everyone is losing their minds.” I didn’t get to answer, because she continued with her ranting. “I know I have good organizational skills, but the least you could do is follow directions.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Athena was a control freak. She hated disorganization. And broken schedules sent her over the edge, but it worked well for all of us because the rest of our group was a mess. Well, aside from Reina.
“Where is your violin?” she squealed, snapping her fingers to get my attention.
I lowered my eyes and realized it wasn’t in my hand. Then I remembered. With the handsome stranger capturing my attention, I’d completely forgotten about it.
“Let me grab it,” I said, rushing to where I had left it.
As if pulled by a force, my eyes flickered to where the man had been, but he was no longer there. An empty void lingered where he once stood.
Disappointment washed over me, which made no sense. I didn’t even know him. He could be a complete douche for all I knew.
“Okay, I’m ready. What’s the first song we’re playing?” I asked, signing in ASL at the same time so Phoenix would understand me too. I learned it shortly after meeting her and Reina. I hated seeing her excluded from conversation when Reina wasn’t around. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made.
When I first ran into Phoenix in my music class, I’d marveled at the thought of someone playing the piano while not being able to hear a single note. Yet, she never let her disability hold her back and had taught me so much through the way she embraced other senses, and about what music meant to her.
And her dedication put mine to shame. She and her younger sister, Reina, were super close. With almost two years between them, Reina had taken extra classes in high school to graduate alongside her older sister. Whenever a professor argued about having a deaf child in their music class, Reina had stepped in like a little firecracker and argued until they accepted Phoenix, even at the cost of sacrificing her own time.
It was how we’d all ended up in the same college. Reina wanted Phoenix to get everything she wanted—namely, the best musical education in the world. But none of us were ready to let Reina give up her own passion: fashion design. So we’d all settled for the best of both worlds.
The Royal College of Arts and Music. In Paris, the City of Love.
After all, it allowed us to remain together.
“Okay, let’s get this party started!” I exclaimed enthusiastically, taking my violin out of its case. “Reina Romero, mere human today, fashion goddess tomorrow.”
We rushed around the large podium. It was hectic, everyone making last-minute changes to arrange for everything to be perfect. The venue was magnificent. I had no idea how Reina had gotten so lucky to have the infamous Enrico freaking Marchetti let us use it. He’d even extended invitations to some of his key contacts.
Yikes! More pressure.
It was important that it all went well. For all of us. It would open the world of fashion to Reina, the world of top musicians to Phoenix and me, and expose Athena and Raven to artists and buyers.
I found Reina running around like a chicken with her head cut off in the back room, getting all the models ready. Shoes for this one. Ribbon for that one. Makeup touch-ups on that one.
