Chapter 7
I’m such an idiot. Na?ve, stupid, gullible.
I pound the button for the elevator.
The smallest part of my brain is screaming that I’m not being fair. It’s not like I didn’t know he was here because my rich mother likes to fuck younger men. And it’s not like anything could happen between us even if he was willing to trade her for me.
The absurdity of those thoughts alone should be enough to put an end to this ridiculous crush. Too bad reason isn’t winning the battle over my hurting heart.
When the elevator arrives, I step into the car, reach for the lobby button, and stop.
Hold on. Why am I the one leaving? It’s my house. He should be the one to go!
Armed with renewed indignation, I march back to my door. When I push it open, the sound of the piano drifts from the main living room. A sad, gentle melody flows over my skin, and I tense with fury.
That piano is sacred. It’s one of my last links to my dad, and I’ll be damned if one of Mom’s gold-diggers is going to soil the memory of that too.
I stalk through the foyer, about to turn the corner toward the kitchen when I freeze in place.
The music filling the room is… incredible.
My anger deflates. Deep sadness wells from somewhere inside me, and I don’t even know what it’s for. Is it something I’ve lost? Something I’ll never have?
Maybe it’s not for anything specific. Maybe it just is, like the melody that’s causing it. And yet, it’s more than sadness flowing through me. There’s also… hope, regret, peace, love in all its forms.
My soul is drowning in a hurricane of emotions, and I don’t want to come up for air.
For over a minute, I stand transfixed, immersed in the music saturating the air around me.
A delicate melody gracefully ascends and descends the scale. The soft accompaniment wrapping around it weaves a hypnotic musical narrative that’s somehow intricate and simple at the same time. Sad, deep, and so unique every note is like an enchanting surprise for my ear.
Chills creep up my arm and cross the nape of my neck. My chest tightens with all of this raw emotion. I’ve never heard—or rather, felt—anything like it. My father was incredibly gifted, but his music made me smile. This emotive melody makes me want to cry.
How is this possible?
Embarrassed by my reaction, I drag my sleeve over my wet eyes and creep down the hall for a better view.
The object of my torment is seated on the bench, completely lost in his song.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t look away. He’s completely and utterly captivating in this moment. His morose expression is so different from the cocky arrogance he’s projected since the moment we met.
Was that an act? Or is this the act? Because either way, those two pieces can’t belong to the same puzzle.
My feet start moving, my ears tuned to the song like some Pied Piper captive.
I’ve always loved music, even though I couldn’t play like my father could. He tried to teach me, but it never clicked.
A sudden longing to see my dad, to share this moment lodges in my stomach.
Aden doesn’t notice my advance at first, and my eyes trace every inch of his artistic form. His back and arms ripple through his shirt in flawless syncopation with the music. Fuck, he’s beautiful. I could get lost in this magic all day.
Too bad the spell breaks the second he catches me hovering.
“What song is that?” I ask.
His gaze passes over me before his throat moves in a thick swallow. “Nothing specific.”
I take a few steps closer. “What do you mean? You made it up?”
“Yes. Just messing around. Sorry, I didn’t know you came back.”
He shifts to get up, and I shake my head. “No. You can play. Please play.”
His expression softens at the rasp in my voice. I didn’t realize I was still so emotional. I can’t decipher if it’s from the memories of my dad or the music itself.
“Please,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens, and I hold my breath until he offers a curt nod.
Relief floods through me, and I drop to the couch near the piano. When the music resumes, I close my eyes to let the ethereal sounds flow through me.
For the next few minutes, I’m completely lost in a mist of haunting melodies. None of it makes sense, and if I hadn’t seen him behind the piano, I never would have believed this was the same arrogant man who stood naked in my kitchen just a day ago.
Does he not know the gift he has?
I don’t understand why he’d reduce himself to a rich woman’s plaything when he could be filling the universe with art like this.
As the minutes pass, he seems just as lost in playing his music as I am absorbing it. When I finally open my eyes, I’m struck again by the stark contrast between the man I thought he was and who I see now. He’s clearly floating in his own world as he watches his fingers move over the keys with expert grace. There’s no hint of the cocky playboy, and I feel no hint of the typical resentment these guys bring.
Who is this person and why is he really here? It can’t be about Mom’s money. At least, not just about that.
Too soon, the music comes to an end. He directs those enigmatic eyes at me.
I stare back, stunned into silence at what just happened. His pensive expression betrays his typically confident fa?ade. The complex mind lurking behind the pretty exterior.
Anxiety swirls inside me at the drastic change that’s making my blood pound in disturbing ways. I needed him to be shallow, easy to dismiss.
“Where did you learn to play like that?” I ask.
He pushes up from the bench and joins me on the other end of the couch.
“It’s… complicated.”
Aden doesn’t show any intention of elaborating.
“Well, you’re incredible. Do you perform anywhere? Have any recordings?”
“No, and can you please not tell anyone? I didn’t know you were here, or I wouldn’t have played.”
My mouth opens, then closes again. “I don’t understand. Why can’t I tell anyone?”
“I don’t want anyone to know.”
“No one knows? Not even my mom?”
He shakes his head. “I mean it. Please don’t say anything.”
There’s a plea in his tone that tugs at something in my chest. The shock of it has me speechless. All I can do is nod. What’s the big deal if people know how talented he is? It makes no sense that he’d hide the best part of himself.
“Are you just going to stare at me for the rest of the night?” he asks.
The humor in his tone has me burning even hotter. I prefer when he’s mad or indifferent. His teasing does weird things to me.
“No. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“Why you’re lying to me.”
I can’t read his expression when I dare another look, but his green eyes and probing gaze wreak havoc on my hormones.
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“What do you really want with my mother?”
He shrugs, and the vulnerability that had my stomach in knots slips back into cocky indifference.
“We talked about this already.”
“Yeah, and I’m calling bullshit.”
The slightest smile flickers over his lips, which just irritates me more. Nothing about this situation is funny.
“I like sex. I like money. Why is this so hard for you to accept?”
“It’s not. I’m just trying to figure out why you’ll fuck my mom for her money but not me because you desire me.”
Shit.
He flinches, and I wish I could take it back. This isn’t how I wanted the conversation to go. My feelings weren’t supposed to be a glaring neon sign between us.
“Never mind. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
I push up from the couch but stop when he grasps my arm. Like every other time we’ve touched, the electric jolt is sudden and violent. He must feel it too when he abruptly lets go and flexes his fist.
His smile falters as he studies it, then looks at me.
“Is that what this is about?” he says.
I open my mouth to snap back, but nothing comes out. What is this about? I still haven’t figured that out. He scrambles my thoughts and tilts me off-axis. That’s the problem. He makes my intelligent brain into mush and reduces the mature woman into a jealous middle schooler.
“Why don’t you want me?” I blurt out. “Why everyone but me? Is it about the money? I’m not rich and powerful enough?”
Pain flickers in his eyes. It’s gone so quickly, I immediately question what I saw, but there was something there. Something beyond the forced indifference I’m accustomed to.
“No, it’s not about the money,” he spits out. I’ve offended him, but I don’t know how else to have this conversation. How to broach feelings that shouldn’t be happening. “It’s because you’re off-limits. You know that as well as I do.”
I suck in a breath, my heart beating wildly at the covetous look in his eyes.
“You know who your mom is, what she’s capable of.” His tone is laced with warning. “Do you think it’s a good idea for us to hook up?”
I swallow hard, a twinge of fear joining the heat trickling through me.
“No,” I say quietly.
Aden stands and tips my chin to meet his gaze.
His eyes stay locked on mine as he leans in and lowers his voice in a hoarse warning, “It’s a terrible idea, Gabi.”
The light brush of his thumb sends gentle sparks across my cheek. The current spreads to my chest. Lower. My breath hitches as my gaze drops to his lips.
“A potentially deadly idea,” he whispers.
Instantly, I’m lost. My skin is burning from the inside out. My soul is swimming in pools of the breathtaking artist I know is trapped somewhere behind his now-blue eyes.
“So, you do want me?” I murmur.
“Of course, I fucking want you.”
He leans closer and my lips part for a kiss.
I’m barely breathing as he says, “You’re all I think about, Gabriela, but it’s not going to happen. It can’t happen. I don’t have a death wish, and neither should you.”
He straightens again and my brain short-circuits at what just happened. His cryptic warnings, his halted seduction… My focus remains locked on the mouth that’s too far away, the frown I’m desperate to taste. His phantom kiss has my lips tingling and my mind spinning. What would it be like to have him the way I want him? The way I’ve imagined since the moment I saw him at the club?
“There’s so much you don’t know,” he says, softer. The pain is back, layers and layers of secrets. “It’s not just your mom that’s the problem. There are other things about who I am. Worse things. I just…”
He shakes his head and my heart sinks when he retreats to a safe distance. I already feel cold without him.
“Who are you?” I ask, still trembling from the intensity of his potent touch. The depth in his eyes alone has me shaken.
“I already told you, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”
“No. That’s not good enough.”
I close the gap between us, bolder now as longing turns into frustration. I take his hand, loving the way he flinches from the jolt we both experience.
“I know you feel this,” I say, running my fingers over his palm.
He swallows hard but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t pull away either.
“Tell me this is normal, Aden. Tell me this is what you feel when my mother touches you. That she makes you burn the way I do and what’s happening right now isn’t special. Tell me you’re not lusting for me the way I’m lusting after you.”
His eyes close. A heavy breath inflates his chest.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” he says quietly.
Fresh sparks mix with the anger already coursing through me. Triumph and defeat form a bitter combination in my stomach. He tries to withdraw his hand, but I hold on tighter.
“Exactly. So why won’t you tell me the truth?”
“What truth? You don’t even know what you’re asking.”
“And if I accepted that, if I stopped asking, would it change anything? Would you still resist this?”
I align our palms, scouring his tortured expression as he fights something inside himself. His jaw clenches. He’s losing the battle.
When his fingers intertwine with mine, my own battle threatens to surrender. He grips hard, like he knows this moment can’t last no matter how much he wants it to.
Eyes closed, he presses a kiss to my knuckles and rests them there.
“Aden,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, still not looking at me. I can’t look away from him.
After what feels like hours, his soft breath grazes my skin from a sigh. He’s about to speak when music shrieks to life between us.
Startled, I step back and realize it’s coming from his pocket. It’s also my mother’s favorite song.
Air drains from the room as his stunned, apologetic gaze lands on me.
“You gonna get that?” I quip. “Mom probably doesn’t like when you keep her waiting.”
“Gabi…”
“What? It’s fine. You’ve already made our situation very clear.” I wave at him to proceed. “Go ahead. Do your job.”
He hesitates for another moment before pulling his phone from his pocket. The screen is angled enough for me to see my mother’s image on the screen. Even expected, it still feels like a fist to the gut.
He casts a conflicted gaze between me and the phone.
I respond with a hard stare, waiting for him to make his choice. Truth or lies? What he wants or what he thinks he needs?
His fingers tighten around the phone still screaming in the silence. I’ve never hated this song as much as at this moment.
“I’m sorry,” he says, flickering a look at me. “You know what I am.”
Yeah, and he knows what I am.
Jealous. Frustrated. Angry… and sad. So, fucking sad for the man who could have everything, but accepts nothing.
He averts his gaze and turns away to take the call. I flee to my room, so I don’t have to watch him choose the lie.