Chapter 17
Play Out the Pain
Lessons in song
It breaks my heart that I can’t call Gwen to share about the breakthrough I’ve experienced tonight.
But she continues to ignore my calls and all the messages I’ve sent to the theater.
I’m seriously tempted to call her parents, but it feels like an unforgiveable breach of trust, when they have never supported her talent as an actress.
Checking my text messages again, hoping against hope that I’ll find a message from her that I missed, I come across a new message from Mr. Branson.
I quickly click on it, hoping to hear good news about Clara.
Miss Lane, I hope this message finds you well. You don’t know how much it means to Clara that you have kept her lessons open. I’m happy to report that her physician has given her the okay to resume piano lessons once a week—for the time being. I hope Wednesdays are agreeable to you. Sincerely, Jake
I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that Clara is on the mend, but I find myself staring intently at his name.
Jake, huh?
I’ve never had Jacob Branson sign off in such an informal manner before, and I smile because the name suits him.
Since I’ve already rearranged my schedule this Wednesday to see Anton, I send a quick text letting Jake know that Clara has been added back into the rotation this Thursday.
I sigh as I get ready for bed. It’s sad that I can’t celebrate my success tonight with Gwen.
At least I’ll get to share it with Anton.
As excited as I am to see Anton, I’m nervous when Wednesday arrives.
I cling to the hope that him seeing me so soon after his return is a positive sign that things are not as bad as I imagine.
So, in honor of his return, I’ve picked out a favorite piece of mine that I want him to practice tonight.
If things go well, I might even share why the music means so much to me.
Heading up to the top floor of the Luxe Escape, I’m practically giddy with excitement when I ring the doorbell to his suite. But I feel the nerves start to kick in when it takes a while before Maxim opens it.
His countenance is disturbingly solemn when he answers the door, “Good evening, Miss Lane.”
My anxiety suddenly increases and I simply nod when I step inside.
“You are not to react when you see him,” he states firmly.
My apprehension increases ten-fold.
“Act normal and complete the lesson. He does not seek nor want attention. You are simply here for the piano lesson. Do you understand and agree?”
I glance nervously at the entrance to the music room. Desperate to see Anton with my own eyes, I nod.
“A verbal confirmation is required before I will allow you to proceed.”
I struggle to keep my voice calm when I meet Maxim’s gaze. “I understand. I am only here to teach piano.”
“Very well,” he says, gesturing toward the room. “You may go.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat as I walk toward the music room. My feet start to drag as I approach for fear of what I will see. Images of my father burning in the flames suddenly overwhelm me, and I stop for a moment.
“Is everything okay, Miss Lane?” Maxim asks behind me. “Your discretion is necessary.”
I close my eyes, mentally preparing myself before I take another step. As I walk into the room, I see Anton at the piano, leaning over the piano keys with his back to me.
At least he’s upright, I think to myself as I approach.
“Good evening, Anton. I’ve come for your lesson,” I state in a professional tone.
He slowly straightens his back and turns around.
Despite my best efforts to stay neutral, I let out a gasp when I see his face.
His left eye is completely swollen shut, and his entire face is bruised and beaten so badly that I barely recognize him.
Worse, there is a ragged wound that has been stitched up just above his eyebrow.
I stop in my tracks, tears welling up in my eyes, and I find I’m unable to speak.
“Miss Lane,” he says in that rich Russian accent.
My bottom lip trembles. Despite my promise not to react, my body is compelled forward and I wrap my arms around his waist and start to bawl.
Anton stiffens in my impromptu embrace. “You do not make a very good sub.”
I start to laugh between my blubbering tears, hugging him tighter, profoundly grateful that he is still alive.
He grunts in response. “While I may appear immune to pain—I’m afraid I’m not.”
Horrified that I am hurting him, I instantly let go and step back. Keeping my head lowered, I whimper, “I’m so sorry!”
He slowly lets out his breath through his nose, before responding. “Were you not told to behave normally?”
“I was,” I answer in a meek voice, suddenly afraid he’ll send me away.
“And you agreed, did you not?”
I groan inwardly. “I did.”
“What were you thinking?” he demands.
I brave a peek at him, and I am just as devastated as the first time I saw his beautiful face so badly beaten. Tears spring to my eyes, and I choke on my words, “I’m…glad…you’re back.”
One corner of his mouth curls slightly. “I am, too.”
“What hap—?”
Anton looks at me severely and shakes his head. “No questions. Only a lesson.”
I nod, hastily wiping away the tears rolling down my cheeks. I know I have to get a hold of myself before Anton calls Maxim to escort me out.
“Would…would you like to begin with a warm-up?” I stammer, opening my satchel to give him the sheet music I’ve picked out.
“Nyet.”
I immediately close the satchel and meet his gaze. “Would you prefer to start with the scales instead?”
Seeing him so badly beaten physically hurts me, and I can feel the tears threatening to start up again.
He shakes his head. Moving stiffly, he sits down at that beautiful piano and places his fingers on the keys. “There are times when music is the only way to express pain. Would you agree, Miss Lane?”
“Yes…” I whisper, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
“This music has been playing in my mind nonstop. One could even say that it was my salvation.”
Closing his eyes, he sucks in a deep breath before playing the dramatic beginning of “O Fortuna.” I stand beside him, chills traveling through me as the piece builds in tempo.
I feel as if I am living through his pain with every note he plays.
At one point, I even forget to breathe, and then…
the ending comes like a triumphant cry of hope to the heavens.
I am left speechless as the last notes of the piano echo through the room.
Several minutes pass before his fingers leave the keys, and then he turns to me. “You should write such music.”
I let out a startled laugh.
His eyes narrow. “I am serious.”
Shaking my head, I hastily explain, “My talent is restricted to playing the piano, not composition.”
“Pain must be expressed,” he replies as if my lack of skill doesn’t matter.
Anton stares at me as if expecting a response, so I appease him by saying, “I’ll consider it.”
He continues to stare at me with that penetrating gaze for several moments before standing up and announcing, “We are done for today.”
I stare at him in shock, feeling hurt at being unceremoniously dismissed. “No!”
“Da,” he replies as he stands up and starts to walk away.
“But…I was so afraid for you,” I whimper.
When he stops and turns to look at me, a look of compassions washes over his face. He holds out his hand.
Swallowing back my tears, I walk to him and take it. When I do, I notice another ugly gash covered in stitches. I hate to think how many other wounds he must have that I can’t see.
“I have returned. There is no reason to cry.”
“But…”
“Tears do not honor me, Sophie.”
With superhuman strength, I hold back my emotions and look at him gratefully. “I’m glad you’re back.”
He lifts my hand, kissing the back of it. “I am, too.”
Letting out a painful sigh, I confess, “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“So I have heard.”
Realizing he must have spoken to Headmaster Wallace, I explain, “Rather than wallow in fear, I attended the auction out of respect for your belief in me.”
He raises an eyebrow, “And did you learn something?”
I nod.
“Good girl.”
I had no idea those two little words could send such chills of happiness down my spine.
He gets a pained expression on his face and grunts. “I must rest.”
The realization that Anton is likely much worse off than he has let on and should not have agreed to this meeting makes me angry. So I chastise him, “Maxim should never have let me in, knowing you need to be in bed.”
His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Maxim is not in charge of me, Miss Lane.”
I frown, hurrying to pick up my satchel. “Well, I refuse to be the reason you fail to heal.”
His low chuckle fills the room, but is immediately followed by a painful, rattling cough.
Not wanting to cause him further harm, I rush to the door to leave. But before I go, I shout back, “How dare you traipse off without a word when so many people care about you!”
The forlorn look in his eyes steals the breath from my lungs.
He finally says, “I was searching for someone but failed to rescue them in time.”
I stand there in the heavy silence that hovers between us, my heart slowly breaking for him. Desperate to help in some way, I ask, “What do you need? I’d do anything.”
“Write that song.”
Before I can respond, he states, “We will never speak of this again.”
Turning away from me, he barks, “Maxim, see Miss Lane out!”