The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,23

you going to be okay?” I asked in a teasing tone.

“I’ll survive somehow.” Her voice was muffled. She looked up and dropped her hands, revealing a dazzling smile. The air was sucked out of my chest. I blinked away and rocked back to give her space.

There was an assumed reputation with conductors. Especially younger male conductors. We flew all over the world depending on where our agents got us the best positions, and we were known for “cellos in different codes,” as it were. I, however, had a strict and relentless no-physical-relationships policy. No relationships, period. The mask was not only to protect myself, but also to keep a very specific barrier between myself and those who played for me.

“Okay.” She gained her composure with a deep breath. “Maybe we should talk about why I’m here.”

Chapter 10

If you trip through an entrance, get the hell back up.

KIM

At first, I thought maybe the weird exhaustion from the night before was to blame for my odd actions. Now I’d clearly lost my damn mind. Devlin had always intimidated me. More than anybody I had ever worked with or for. But he’d never scared me. I knew that was what he wanted with the mask and the cranky-pants temper, but all it did was make me want to get to know him more. He was a puzzle that needed to be solved. Sadly, my attempt to not show fear while simultaneously being completely embarrassed and confused came out as nervous laughter. I was officially a hot mess.

Maestro.

He had reminded me. There was a dynamic. And not a kinky, fantasy role-playing sex dynamic. Gah! Why did I even make that analogy? Okay. Focus. No more fumbling, just answers.

“Have you made your decision?” he asked avoiding my own question.

“No. Not yet.”

He blinked at me. It was really hard to read someone’s emotions when they only showed a quarter of their face. It was either squinty eyes or wide eyes. That being said, weren’t the eyes supposed to be the windows to the soul? In Devlin’s case, his window was closed. Or winterized. No. These windows were covered in blackout curtains. Okay, I needed to stop making analogies.

Thankfully, the mask faux pas seemed to have been forgotten. His words weren’t so terse. Why was he wearing that damn mask? Why was I so drawn to it? Why was I so desperate to take it off? I had always been at the mercy of my curiosity. No. Focus. Maestro could fire me. Be a good cellist.

“I was hoping to discuss what you had in mind,” I said but with a rise at the end, like it was more of a question. “Do I need to call for a ride home? Do you want to put on a shirt?”

I like to think I saw the smallest hint of a smile in his eyes with that one.

“No,” he stated blankly. “You’re staying here.”

“What?” I asked. Maybe I was still dreaming.

“Today will be a trial run. To help you decide. As you were supposed to do yesterday.”

“Oh.” That was a fair offer. But I barely made it through the last five minutes unscathed. How would I handle almost a full day of his undivided attention? The thought of having to make a choice, having to decide right there and then, caused panic to cramp my insides. I couldn’t just decide. I just woke up. I was still half asleep. There was nothing I could do except stall.

“I need to check my schedule.” Though I already knew it. It was Saturday, so swim, practice, and a free afternoon, which on this Saturday happened to include a SWS meeting.

“Your schedule was cleared.” His gaze flicked to the side then back to me.

I was beginning to feel the smallest hint of irritation. For many years, I’d let my parents and therapists make my choices for me. I’d grown to rely on it. But here was a new person in my life that was deciding things for me. The choice to accept his offer was mine. Even though it caused me panic, it was mine.

“I don’t remember okaying that,” I said.

“You were there.” He cleared his throat and his hands started to ball. His own irritation was obviously growing. But what right did he have to be annoyed when I was the one whose life had to change?

“Were my eyes open? Was I snoring? Was a tiny dribble of drool leaking from my mouth? Because those are all strong indications that I was, in