Chapter 18 Eloise
Eloise
Thursday…
“Bye, Dave! See you later!”
I wave goodbye from the doorway, a rare smile tipping my lips as I watch Dave slide into his Maserati. Forest stands to the side, watching me with raised brows and a curious glint in his eye, but doesn’t say a word as he closes and locks the door.
“Well, I'd better get upstairs. Gotta practice for this upcoming showcase.” I wave to Forest before turning and practically skipping toward the staircase. I know I’m acting out of the ordinary—that my sunny disposition may cause suspicion—but I just can’t help it.
I get to see Riot today.
I haven’t talked to him much since last week. Dave got home early on Sunday, so I wasn’t able to text him much, and I’m dying to spend some more time with him after our fantastic weekend.
It’s like I have champagne bubbles in my veins and dragonflies in my belly.
I can’t sit still, and it’s impossible to keep the grin off my face.
I’ve been flitting around all day, singing under my breath and dancing through the house.
Forest probably thinks I’ve gone insane, and maybe I have.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Perhaps I could use a little more madness in my life. Maybe we all could.
I race up the stairs and into my bedroom, slamming the door closed in my haste to get to the CD player.
I press play and move toward the window, my fingers sliding under the lip.
I wait, my heart pounding in anticipation for the track to begin.
As soon as it does, I can slip out and go to meet Riot.
A few moments later, the sounds of classical music explode into the air, drowning out the erratic thumping of my heart. It doesn’t, however, hide the thump of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Jumping back from the window, I run to the CD player, yanking the cord clean from the wall in my haste to turn it off. It crashes to the floor, breaking into several different pieces—but I don’t have time to hide it. I have to move.
I’m plopping down at the piano just as Dave’s voice breaks out, and the blood drains from my face.
“What, exactly, are you doing?”
I turn my head in a slow circle, hoping my racing heart doesn’t give away my guilty conscience. “Just practicing.” What the fuck are you doing here? “Did you forget something for yoga class?”
Dave tsks, stepping forward and taking a lock of my hair between his fingers. The spiced scent of his aftershave assaults my nostrils, and I have to fight the urge to cringe. “I didn’t recognize that song you were playing earlier.”
“One of my older pieces,” I say, my voice strained. “Was your class canceled?” I ask, hoping to bring the conversation away from the recording.
“Oh no. Just forgot my sunglasses. Then I heard what you were playing and thought I’d come up and see why you weren’t practicing the set for your show this weekend.”
I try desperately not to drag my gaze toward the CD player. He knows something is up, but not what. I just have to hope it stays that way.
Dave moves away from me and takes a seat at the edge of my bed, his predatory grin causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. “You look restless, Eloise. Am I making you nervous?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. Just…” I glance toward the doorway, desperate to change the conversation. “It’s just that I remembered that I need a new dress for Friday night’s showing. “
“Well, if that’s all it is, you'd best turn that frown upside down!” He interrupts. “I’ll send Natasha to pick something special out for you tomorrow.”
My stomach churns at the mention of Dave’s personal assistant and her fashion taste, but I keep my expression fixed in a pleasant smile. “That’s very kind,” I say, leaning farther away subconsciously. “But… I was thinking it’d be good for me to pick out what I wear for once.”
“Don’t be silly, Eloise.” He shakes his head. “That’s an hour you could be practicing. You can’t waste that time—not when you have back-to-back shows this weekend.”
I grit my teeth. “I could play those pieces blindfolded. I think it will be fine.”
Dave sneers. “I don’t think you’re understanding me, girl.
You’re not ready to go to the store by yourself.
” He stands from the bed and makes his way into my personal bubble once more, voice growing more imposing with each word.
“What if you had an attack? What if someone wanted to hurt you? No. You’ll stay here, where I can keep a close eye on my precious little prodigy. ”
I nod, casting my gaze down to my flats and fighting back tears of frustration. “Yes. But I really do need a dress—”
“Then you also know it’s irresponsible to spend precious hours of your life shopping when you could be perfecting your craft.”
Again, I nod, clenching my jaw tight enough to give me a headache. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
Dave slides his hand from my hair to my cheek, cupping my jaw and tilting my eyes up to meet his. “I don’t like how distracted you’ve been lately.”
I wriggle out of his hold, bile creeping up my throat. “I’m just tired.”
At my rejection, Dave narrows his eyes. “I don’t think so.” He shoves his hand under my nose, curling his fingers back in a ‘give it over’ motion. “Phone. Now.”
I pull it out of my pocket and pass it over with shaking fingers, thanking the stars that I hadn’t had the chance to unblock Riot’s number yet. Thankfully, our text message history has been deleted, so Dave won’t be able to find any incriminating evidence.
Dave takes my phone and pockets it, his eyes narrowing on me. “Now go and practice your arpeggios. No more of that outdated nonsense. Chop, chop.”
He turns on his heel, leaving just as quickly as he arrived.
I stare at the door for some time, listening to the thud of footsteps down the stairs.
It’s only when his car starts and peels away from the house that I turn back to the piano.
But I still can’t shake the sensation that someone is watching me.
I force my fingers to move over the keys, muscle memory taking over as I begin the first round of arpeggios. While my hands move, I look at the clock, finding it’s already five minutes past the start of my lesson time.
A small sigh blows past my lips. Every ounce of me wants to throw caution to the wind, climb out that window, hop on my bike, and go see Riot. But Dave already seems suspicious of me. Why else would he come back to the house and check on me?
I’d be a fool to risk sneaking out.
“This fucking sucks,” I grumble, glancing out the window toward freedom.
Since Dave took my phone, I won’t be able to let Riot know that I’ll be missing my lesson. He’ll probably be upset, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
I just have to hope he’ll forgive me next week.