Chapter 10
The golden light of Vienna slanted through the hotel window, painting delicate stripes across the plush carpet and the deep red upholstery of the armchair where Savannah sat still in her robe, untouched coffee cooling on the table beside her.
She stared at her phone, willing it to buzz.
Nothing.
She swiped through her messages again. No response from Daphne. No read receipts. Just the single gray checkmark taunting her, next to: “Did you make it to the Musikverein? Everything okay?”
That had been over three hours ago. It wasn’t a new experience for Daphne to be out of contact.
She had been incommunicado on several other occasions during the tour.
Her reasons were varied, including traffic congestion, depleted cell phone batteries, and in some cases, a simple failure to hear her phone.
Savannah had believed her. But this was the longest she’d been out of touch, and a gnawing feeling of doubt began to creep into her mind.
“Try not to panic,” she whispered to herself, rubbing the edge of her thumbnail against her bottom lip, a habit she hadn’t broken since she was thirteen and the Senator had been harsh with her for the first time.
Daphne had been with her for years. The Senator had insisted she have an assistant to handle all her socials, press, concert arrangements, and whatever else popped up. She was never late. And had never gone dark.
She was the one who made sure Savannah had water in the dressing rooms, the right shoes packed for the stage, her music downloaded to her iPad, and her migraine medicine on hand for those rare occasions when she needed it. She was always two steps ahead, not missing in action.
Savannah stood abruptly, pacing toward the suite’s window that overlooked a quiet street lined with spring-green trees and old stone buildings. Vienna was beautiful. A storybook kind of beautiful. But in that moment, it felt eerily quiet. Too quiet for what should have been a busy pre-show day.
She tapped Sawyer’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, clipped.
“No.” She exhaled hard, fighting the tightness in her chest. “I can’t reach Daphne. She was going to the Musikverein to check the staging this morning. She’s not answering her phone.”
A beat of silence.
“Her location’s off too,” Sawyer said after a second, probably checking from the tracking app he kept for emergencies.
Her heart squeezed. “You’re already looking?”
“Yeah,” he said.
Of course he was.
“I should’ve gone with her,” Savannah murmured, the fear rising thick in her throat.
“I had that weird feeling this morning, like something was off. She was distracted last night. Said she’d misplaced her planner, but she’s never careless.
” Daphne mixed old school with technology, which made her a rare breed.
She still kept a paper planner, a backup she called it, even though she also had the digital calendar.
“Okay, Savi, listen to me.” His voice dropped an octave, that tone he used when he wanted to anchor her. “I’ll head to the Musikverein now. Stay where you are. Don’t open the door to anyone but me.”
She nodded automatically, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see her. “Do you think she’s okay?” she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.
“I don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “But I’m going to find out.”
The line went dead.
Savannah stood frozen for a moment, the silence of the room crashing in around her. Then she walked to her vanity, reached for the crescent-shaped clip Voodoo had given her, and slid it into her hair, clicking it into place like armor.
She walked to the window, which she’d cracked open earlier.
The scent of freshly baked bread wafted up from a nearby bakery while she gazed out at the quaint street outside the Grand Hotel Vien.
Savannah’s breath fogged the glass as she leaned against the window, heart thudding in uneven bursts against her ribs.
The crescent-shaped clip nestled in her hair felt heavier than usual, like a small moon of steel and secrets.
She’d brushed her fingers against it three times already, reassured by the memory of Sawyer’s voice: “Press the center jewel if anything ever feels off. I’ll be there. ”
Her mind drifted to their sightseeing trip she and Sawyer had taken just that morning. They’d left the hotel early, slipping away from the others on the tour. Just two people in a city that didn’t care who they were.
They’d started at Café Schwarzenberg, seated near the window with sunlight pouring in and the quiet elegance of old-world charm wrapped around them.
She could still see the way he’d smirked when she tried to pronounce “Weiner Musikverein,” the venue she’d be performing in that night, with an American accent.
Then there was Café Sacher, and the famous torte. He hadn’t told her about it, just ordered it with this smug little smile, like he knew it would ruin her for all other chocolate cake. And it had. Every bite had been a symphony, rich and bold, but it wasn’t the cake she remembered.
It was the way he watched her, like she was the one worth savoring.
But the best part—what had taken her breath away—was when he’d stopped outside a stone building tucked along a quiet street and said, “Come on. I have one more surprise.”
She’d followed him into Mozarthaus Vienna, and her heart had tripped over itself the moment she realized where they were.
“Thought it might be your kind of place,” he’d said, walking beside her through the rooms where Mozart had once lived and worked. The revelation that the famous composer had created The Marriage of Figaro in the very place she’d been walking had filled her with a profound sense of awe.
There isn’t a musician of note who hasn’t included at least one of Mozart’s many compositions in their repertoire at some point in their career. And she was no different. She’d grown up playing his piano sonatas.
Sawyer hadn’t rushed her. He never did.
While she stood in front of the composer’s original manuscripts, something in her cracked open. Not just because of the music, or the genius in the notes on the page, but because Sawyer had known. Without her saying a word, he’d known exactly what would speak to her soul.
That was the moment she knew she was in trouble.
Real, heart-deep trouble.
She wasn’t sure how it would all end, but she was certain of one thing: Vienna had given her Mozart, chocolate, and music. But Sawyer had given her something even rarer.
Understanding and a day she’d never forget.
A knock on her suite’s door startled her out of her musings. Sharp. Precise. Not housekeeping.
She froze.
Another knock. Louder this time. She moved slowly toward the door, her bare feet silent on the plush rug. “Who is it?”
“It’s Henry,” came the voice through the door, low and casual. Too casual. “Thought I’d see if you needed anything.”
Savannah frowned. She hadn’t scheduled anything with Henry. And he hadn’t mentioned coming by earlier.
“I’m getting ready,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I’ll see you at the venue.”
He laughed, soft and dry. “Come on, Savannah. It’s not like I haven’t seen a woman in curlers before.”
Her stomach flipped. He wouldn’t see her in curlers. Not ever.
She took a step back from the door, fingers instinctively reaching for the clip in her hair. One press, Sawyer had said. Don’t hesitate.
Yet, she did. She hesitated.
Henry knocked again. “Don’t make me get hotel security to do a wellness check.”
What the hell? Savannah’s skin prickled.
“No, thank you,” she said clearly. “I’m fine, Henry. I’d prefer privacy.”
A pause.
Then a muttered, “Stuck-up little tease,” barely audible through the door, then, “Fine. I’ll see you tonight,” followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps retreating.
Savannah’s knees buckled as she sank onto the edge of the couch, heart pounding. Her fingers trembled in her lap, but her mind was clear. He hadn’t forced his way in. But something was weird about that whole scenario.
Henry had always set her nerves on edge, but this was different. It bordered on aggressive. Calculated.
Not knowing what to think, she was left in a state of uncertainty.
Daphne missing. Henry’s weird visit. The jumbled thoughts swirled in her head, making it hard to focus.
But focus was what she needed most. She had a concert to get ready for, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.
She hoped that, in time, the answers to the questions swirling in her mind would eventually reveal themselves.
And that no others would arise.