Chapter 7
The Obsession
Killian
“I want her,” I tell Dad once Jenna is gone.
He lifts his eyes from the three screens on his desk and leans back in his tall leather chair. “She’s good, I agree. Your playing came alive with her at your side in a way it hasn’t in years.”
I want to bark at him for suggesting I don’t play well enough on my own, but there’s something else I want more. Her. “Not just as my piano partner; as mine.”
A smug smile spreads over his lips as he points his golden pen at me. “I told you that girl was getting to you.”
“You’re right, okay. Are you happy?” I drop into one of the recliners by the window overlooking the garden.
“That night was a mistake,” he continues.
I sit up straight and point at him. “That night was the fucking right thing to do. She was catching up with me. You said it yourself.”
“She might have been your biggest threat, and a very real one, but she was also the one who pushed you to perform better than anyone else. I should have seen that sooner.”
“Just stop it, okay. I’ve had enough of this.” Five years, and he never shut up, telling me I should fix things with her and make her start playing again.
“You should have approached her sooner, like I said. Your playing is already improving, just from that short interaction.”
Unable to stand any more of his arrogant shit, I say, “I still win every single solo competition I enter.”
Jenna might help me win the four-hand competition, but I don’t need her. Not like that. It’s just because I’m a greedy motherfucker who wants it fucking all that I finally relented and approached her.
“Your technique is impeccable, but you’re lacking nerve.
That grit and fire the audience responds to.
Soon, it won’t be a panel of four judges you need to impress, but a crowd of a thousand who couldn’t care less how fast you can blaze through a Liszt étude.
You need to expand your repertoire and work on your expression if you truly want to be great. ”
Gnashing my teeth, I get up and start pacing the room. “Whatever. I just want her.”
“And you’ll have her. She’s returning tomorrow. I’ll get her ready on time, and you’ll win the competition.”
I shake my head. “I want more. I’m not doing this if it’s just for that competition.
I don’t need that trophy.” I suppress a smile when Dad’s jaw hardens.
I’m not the only greedy motherfucker here.
He wants it all too. Having already won everything and excelled himself isn’t enough.
He wants a repeat, and I am to deliver it to him.
I don’t mind. Never have. But now I want something in return.
“And what exactly is it that you want?” he asks.
“Her.” I stab a finger toward the floor. “Right here. At my mercy. Mine to do with whatever I want.”
He regards me with that cool detachment he has down to perfection.
“Don’t act like I’m asking for the moon,” I rebuke. “Jenna is desperate. She’ll do anything to play again. You didn’t see her expression when I presented her with the sheet music.”
“I’m not sure it’s enough. Desperation will make people do stupid things, but you’re asking her to walk straight back into the arms of the man who raped her and accept his abusive behavior.”
“I didn’t rape her,” I say angrily.
“Are you sure that’s the way she sees it?”
“She asked for it all. You saw the video.”
“She did. Right up to the point where you stopped filming.”
“I told you; I didn’t fuck her. I just came on her.”
“Without her consent.”
“Whatever. We can just kidnap her.” I throw my hands into the air, impatient as hell. “Simply keep her here tomorrow.”
He cocks a brow. “And how do you plan on taking a captive out in public to play with you?”
“I don’t know. Make another video and blackmail her. It worked like a breeze the last time.”
“It’s not a good solution in the long term. Too risky.”
“I don’t care.” My breathing is getting labored now, and I keep opening and closing my fist as I try to rein in the urge to slam it into his desk or maybe one of his many monitors.
“Sit down before you break something,” Dad demands, deepening his voice.
With a grunt, I drop into a recliner, clutching the ends of the armrests.
The room goes silent while he turns his gaze to his computers and his day trading. He looks like he’s ignoring me, but I know he’s just considering things. Using the moment to calm myself, I close my eyes and lean my head back, breathing deeply.
I feel somewhat more in control when Dad speaks again. “It might be good to have an outlet for all that pent-up rage of yours. The piano isn’t cutting it anymore.”
I bite back my protest. My temper is another thing I can’t stand him pointing out, but as much as I want to deny it, he’s right. It is getting out of control.
He steeples his fingers. “You need to let me handle Jenna and come up with a plan. It’s a delicate matter. You’ll have her, but you need to be patient.”
“Okay,” I agree, even though the restless swoosh in my veins beckons me to push this.
But I know the best thing to do is take a backseat and let him handle things.
He’ll find a way. He always does. Dad might as well be a ruthless stockbroker or a mafia boss if the piano hadn’t been the first thing to have caught his obsessive attention.
He’ll get her. I just have to be patient. If I can.