Page 26 of Behind the Lyrics
The tension in her muscles released, and she sagged against me. “He’s long gone. The last I heard, he left Texas, too.”
Needing something to do, I stood and pulled her upward. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe. I need tomakesomething before Ibreaksomething.” I opened the door and, with her hand in mine, led her downstairs.
One of the girls from last night, the brunette, stopped in the living room when she saw us descending the staircase. “Hey, Viktor.” She pouted her lower lip. “I didn’t know you were home. Why don’t you and your friend come join us in the pool?” She thrust her metallic-colored bikini-clad chest outward and propped a hand on a hip, flashing a smile.
I sneered. How could she think I’d be tempted when I had the most beautiful angel in the world standing at my side? “Not interested.”
Without another word, I steered Angela to the back of the house, where the recording studio sat in darkness. Its calm would soothe the rage building in the core of my heart and mind.
Chapter 23
Angela Morales
Terri was the only other person in my new life who knew the full story between Jeff and me. I don’t know why I confessed it to Viktor. Maybe because he’d shared such a private, painful story of his own, or maybe because I felt safe with him. Whatever the reason, it had seemed right spilling that terrible secret out of my heart and into his ears.
Viktor’s muscles rippled through the back of his satiny shirt, and I feasted my eyes on his outstretched hand, following the sleeve tattoo winding up the skin. On the inside of his forearm, a replica of David Bowie’s Aladdin Sane album cover lay hidden among flowing patterns of flowers, bare-branched trees, and black tribal symbols. Whoever his artist was, they were extremely talented.
He pulled me through a back doorway to a lush, tropical walkway. On either side of the path, recessed lights reflected against vibrant ferns and wide-leaved bushes, with a winding stream running through the foliage.
“This is so beautiful and relaxing. I bet the water bill for this place is astronomical.”
Viktor stopped and glanced around as if noticing it for the first time. “I suppose so.”
I pulled my hand from his and bent to the man-made channel, water tinkling through, next to the sidewalk. Upon closer inspection, I spotted several Koi, their fins waving in the gentle current. “I miss seeing this stuff.” In Texas, since there was less desert—especially in the east and south—it was common to see this type of landscaping.
I dipped a finger into the water and swirled the warm liquid. When a fish darted to nibble my fingertip, a delighted laugh burst from my throat.
The leathery smoke of Viktor hit me as he crouched at my side.
With a huge smile and laughter still trickling from my mouth, I gave him a glance, enjoying the tickling pecks of the fish’s delicate movements.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Angela.” Heat and something predatory gleamed from his stare. “If a few fish can make you this happy, I wonder what you’d do if I bought an entire lake?”
I snickered then cleared my throat.
He didn’t smile. Instead, he speared me with that brooding, dangerous gaze.
Jesus, he’s serious.“I’d probably eat them. Sushi, remember?” I stood and rubbed my arms. The air temperature turned downright cold. I’d left my jacket in the truck at the station and mentally kicked myself for not bringing it.
As if my movement broke his thoughts, he pressed his palms against his thighs and shot to his feet, wrapping me into his arms. “Come on. It’s warm in the studio.” He pointed to a separate building at the end of the pathway. If he hadn’t mentioned it was a studio, I would’ve assumed it to be a guest house from this distance.
When he and I stepped inside, he flicked a switch, and light flooded from the ceiling.
The entry led to a small foyer then he wound me through the brains of the setup with the control room with its many switches and dials and, finally, into the actual recording suite.
“Have a seat.” He pointed to a stool sitting in the middle, near the mic.
I’d been in a few recording studios over the years, but this one seemed state of the art. The walls, insulated with soundproofing, still showed traces of polished, glowing wood near the floor. A drum set dominated the back, and several shiny guitars sat neatly in their racks.
Viktor walked to one of the instruments, its body a rich, royal blue, and slipped the leather strap over his neck. Sauntering over to me, he threw a lazy grin my way and both dimples appeared, transforming his face from an angry god to a mischievous devil.
My heart squeezed, and I mentally reminded myself to breathe.
Strumming his fingers lightly over the strings, he fiddled with the neck, listening to the sounds, and fine-tuning the instrument. With a nod, he opened his mouth and sang.
