Chapter Four
Nyxx
The kitchen’s alive with activity as we throw together a chicken salad sandwich with the rotisserie chicken I found in the fridge.
Ana—and damn, if it doesn’t feel good that she’s not correcting me anymore—is chopping celery and apples with surprising efficiency.
Who knew Little Miss Prim and Proper had knife skills?
“You’re not half bad at this,” I comment as I forage in the cabinets for anything to add to the meal.
She arches an eyebrow. “You sound surprised. Did you think I survived on caviar and champagne?”
“Honestly? Yeah, kinda.” Her laugh catches me off guard—it’s light, musical, and completely genuine. With a smile on her face, I notice how pretty she is for the first time since I barged in last night.
“Well, Mr. Night. As a teen, I pestered our chef until he taught me how to do this, though I don’t actually… cook.”
The word “chef” stops me cold. A chef. Like that’s normal.
I grew up on gas-station burritos and whatever my mom could throw together between double shifts.
My first “meal” on tour was a half-eaten sandwich someone left in the greenroom.
And here she is, talking about lessons from her family’s chef like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
Worlds apart, she and me—but damned if I don’t want to know what that world feels like.
As we finish up, I grab a couple of plates. “Gazebo?” I suggest, nodding toward the open door.
Ana hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Why not? It’s a lovely day.”
We settle into the wrought-iron chairs, the warm breeze rustling through the surrounding trees. I notice Ana’s gaze flicker over my bare chest, but she doesn’t comment. Weird. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s a far cry from this morning’s prudish disapproval.
“So,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence that’s settled between us. “What changed your mind about lunch?”
She takes a delicate bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Let’s just say I had an… epiphany of sorts.”
“Sounds mysterious. Care to elaborate?”
“Perhaps later,” she deflects, but there’s a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “For now, I have a question for you.”
I lean back, spreading my arms wide. “I’m an open book, princess. Ask away.”
Her eyes narrow slightly at the nickname. The word feels different this time—less of a jab, more a habit I don’t want to break. “Why didn’t you ever consider joining an orchestra? You clearly have the talent for it.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Me? In an orchestra? Can you imagine?”
“Actually, yes,” she says, her tone serious. “Your technical skill is… impressive. With some refinement, you could easily—”
“Whoa,” I interrupt, holding up a hand. “First off, thanks for the backhanded compliment. But seriously, can you see me in a penguin suit, taking orders from someone waving a stick?”
Ana rolls her eyes. “It’s called a conductor, and it’s not about ‘taking orders’. It’s about being part of something greater than yourself.”
“Yeah, well, I prefer being the greatest thing on stage,” I quip, but her words stick with me. “Tell you what. How about I write you a classical divertimento? I’ll play it for you tonight.”
She nearly chokes on her sip of water. “Tonight? You can’t be serious.”
I’ll admit, it’s a pretty bold challenge. She probably never imagined I’d even know what a divertimento was, much less be able to write and perform one.
I grin, loving the challenge in her eyes. “Dead serious. By midnight, I’ll be playing you a Nyxx Night original.”
Ana laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I won’t expect much, but I admire your ambition.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” I tease. “Prepare to have your mind blown, Anastasia Ashcroft.”
As we finish our lunch, trading barbs and easy laughter, I feel the spark of a challenge light between us. And if there’s one thing Nyxx Night doesn’t do, it’s back down from a challenge.
Game on, Ana. Game on.