Chapter 34 Christianna
Chapter thirty-four
Christianna
As I pull into a parking spot at the opera house, I put the car in park and rest my forehead against the steering wheel.
My therapist says this is progress. Progress hurts. I stay there long enough for the sting behind my eyes to fade.
I can do this. Go in. Rehearse. Pretend they don’t know anything about my life. Avoid them if I have to.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown caller.
“Hello,” I say, already climbing out of the car and opening the trunk for my violin.
Nothing.
I pull the phone from my ear. Heavy breathing. I shake my head and roll my eyes as I disconnect.
The cemetery presses at the edge of my awareness. It always does. Today I keep my eyes forward and walk past without looking. Not yet.
The air is oppressive. Sweat has my clothing clinging to me before I'm five steps from my car.
I pick up the pace, craving the hit of cold air inside.
The door opens.
I look up, ready with a polite smile.
Remy.
My breath catches. My fingers curl into my palm, nails biting down hard enough to remind me where I am. I nod once. Sharp and controlled, then I step past him.
“Christianna, please?” he calls from behind me.
Closing my eyes, I turn to face him.
His face is drawn. It doesn’t look like he slept since Saturday morning. He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches, stopping a respectful distance away.
“I’m so sorry, I was being a paranoid ass because of the Dark Angel.
” He glances around. “It’s not an excuse, I want you to know.
” He rubs the back of his neck, kneading it.
My heart constricts. I want to reach out and reassure him, but letting people be accountable for their actions is healthy. It’s not my job to pacify.
“I’d like to make it up to you. I’m just not sure how.”
I stare at him and debate. “How does Erik have the music?”
He looks startled and then sighs. “Another gift from the Dark Angel.”
Biting my lip, I consider him.
“Thank you. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get to practice.”
As I turn back, I see Rasmussen glaring at me from down the hall. Was he watching us?
I avert my gaze and keep moving.
When rehearsal is over, I make my way to Meg’s office and knock lightly on the open door.
She shoots me a harried glance and waves me in, one hand pressed to the phone at her ear.
“No, I can’t connect you with Mr. Leroux,” she says crisply. “He’s unavailable.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
I glance around, a quick check that we’re alone.
When she disconnects, she gives me a rueful smile. “If anyone ever tells you men are the only predators, they’ve never been Erik’s first line of defense.” She exhales. “The calls, the emails, the mail. It’s embarrassing.”
She lifts a thong off her desk with the end of her pen.
“It looks used,” she says flatly, then grimaces as she drops both pen and panties into the trash. “That’s actually one of the tamer things. At least it wasn’t a photo of her in them.”
My eyes widen. “People do that?”
“Yep,” she says. “Grossest part of my job.” A beat. “Remy gets women calling too, but he’s not the public face.”
I wrinkle my nose at her. “I just stopped by to say I think I’m going to move out next weekend. I found a motel I can stay at until I figure out what I want.”
"Want flowers? Chocolates? Champagne delivered?” She arches a brow. “Both of them asked me what they can do to apologize. I personally vote chocolate and champagne.”
I melt a little. “That is pretty sweet, I’m just not ready to deal with any of it right now. Maybe someday, not today.”