The Treble With Men (Scorned Women's Society #2) - Piper Sheldon Page 0,9

for a living and yet I couldn’t get my bow to stop wobbling where it hovered just above the strings. My heart sputtered and cranked to a manic tempo. Carla should be here. What if something happened to her? The world began to tune out around me. Tears pricked behind my eyes. How ridiculous was that? I played with these people every day, but if I tried to speak or breathe or move, I’d start to cry.

“Hey.” Devlin’s voice was so soft I hardly noticed it at first. His biker boots appeared in front of my blurring vision. “Christine?”

I lifted my chin to find him standing in front of me with a furrowed brow. “Is she okay?” The question just slipped out, but I needed to know.

He dropped into a crouch to better hear me, causing me to pick up soft hints of cologne, fabric softener, and motorcycle exhaust. “What?”

I asked again a little louder but likely only Barry would be able to hear, if that.

His face was impassive like he was processing what I said. “Who? Carla?”

I nodded stiffly.

“Family emergency. She’ll be back on Monday,” he spoke softly.

“Oh.” A weight lifted from my shoulders.

My chest rose as I took a deep breath in. I released it slowly. Surely the entire room was waiting to see what my deal was.

“I appreciate you stepping in for her.” He lifted his chin to get me to look into his eyes. “I’m sure she would appreciate it too.”

I doubted that, but at least I wasn’t taking the performance from her. I was helping the orchestra out. I could absolutely do this. My thoughts had me worrying my bottom lip.

His focus lowered to my lips then quickly to where my hand gripped the shoulder of my cello. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”

I swallowed down my irrational fears. Carla was fine. It was just one show. I could do this. I got into position in answer to his question. Those dark eyes flitted around my face as though checking to see if I really was ready.

“All you need to do is watch me.” When he spoke his mask hardly moved; nobody would know he’d spoken at all. My gaze was locked on his as it smoldered with intensity. “It’s you and me.”

As though I could look anywhere else. When he gave me his focus, the rest of the room faded away. The rest of the world.

“Ready?” he asked.

I forced my shoulders down. He got back onto the podium and I lifted my bow to wait for my solo entrance as he counted the rest of the orchestra in. The notes on the page transformed into a foreign language. The music quieted, signifying my entrance. I drew my bow along the string, but my tense arm caused a noticeable wobble. A wave of heat burned up my neck, a flush likely giving me away. Just when I thought I might lose total control, I remembered his directions. I looked to him.

His arm conducted the rest of the orchestra smoothly as they played their soft accompaniment, but his head was turned to me. He was willing me to look at him. His eyes narrowed when mine finally met his. He nodded his chin subtly. I didn’t need to read the music. I knew this solo in my sleep. Instead, I kept my focus on him. I played. Everything else blurred into the background. The music came then. It flowed through me.

It was just us and the beautiful music.

Chapter 5

Don’t just play the notes, bleed them.

DEVLIN

Watch me.

Christine Day led the rest of the cellos on stage. With her shoulders back and chin lifted, the small audience gathered behind me might think she did this every day. She showed hidden courage in the face of this last-minute switch up, but underneath her cool facade, her color was off and there was a tense set to her jaw.

Just watch me, I willed.

Our gazes clashed. Each time they did, a bolt of awareness shot through my body. By the end of the pre-show rehearsal today I was jittery with adrenaline. She had watched me the whole time. Now as she settled into first chair, she preferred to look at me rather than the hushed commentary of the onlookers.

“Who is that?” someone whispered behind my back.

“Not sure,” another replied. “Where’s Carla?”

When Carla hadn’t shown up, I’d thought my first donor dinner show would be a dismal flop. The second chair looked like he was going to lose his lunch when