The Maestro, Page 3

  Now, I waited.

  “The new assistant. She’s not good.”

  Anger flared anew, fixing the small part of me that’d broken down and had wanted to tell him the truth about my feelings. That was his primary concern, his new assistant? “I’m sorry. She’ll get better. It took me a long time to get to know you and your whims.”

  He shook his head. “She’ll never be you. My whims, as you call them, are beyond her.”

  A chink in my armor. “I cannot work for you again, Maestro.”

  Kieran took a step closer. “Why? I’ve never been so happy as when you were with me.”

  Those words weren’t romantic. He meant because I took care of everything. His chores, talking with his accountant, his lawyers, and dealing with his schedule. A few times, I’d even dressed him. Those times hadn’t helped weaken my feelings for him. Seeing him without a shirt, I’d only wanted him more. Those rippling muscles going down his stomach and disappearing into his pants… I’d wanted to undress him rather than slip on those tuxedos.

  But those words, those angry conversations I’d had with myself about how unfair he’d been to me, how much he’d expected, and how little he gave in return would’ve opened the dam of my frustrations. “I want to be happy too.”

  As if on cue, Greg came to the top of the stairs. “Rae? Oh, good, he found you. The Maestro came to our balcony looking for you. I wanted to make sure you knew. I figured you’d want to talk to him. He said you were old friends.” Greg darted a look between the two of us, perhaps trying to decide if we were friends or something else. From the way I glared at Kieran, we could be mortal enemies.

  Kieran’s face was characteristically friendly, open, and warm. Everyone loved him, except maybe me at the moment.

  “Rae and I worked together. I’d wanted to say hello.”

  “No way! You worked with him? You never told me that. That’s amazing,” Greg said.

  Something uncertain flashed on Kieran’s face. His eyebrows rose in disbelief that I’d not mentioned our professional relationship. Did he think it was because it’d been insignificant?

  “I’ll leave you to the performance. I know how much you love opera,” Kieran said. He made a wide circle around me, his hands in his pockets.

  He stopped four steps away and turned. “Will you be attending the cast party?”

  “I’m not a member of the cast.”

  “Come with me. Both of you. As my guests. Todd is an old friend.” He meant Todd Raglan, the lead in the opera. Kieran was connected to everyone in music.

  “That sounds great,” Greg said, before I could decline.

  I’d been to parties with Kieran, and it’d be hard to avoid him. Even when putting in no effort, he’d be the center of attention.

  I could make a scene now and refuse to attend, but Greg wanted to go. Or I could deal with it and go for an hour and then feign exhaustion.

  “We can meet you there,” I said.

  Kieran shook his head. “Come with me. We have a car.”

  “We’ll do that,” Greg said.

  I forced a smile and turned to Greg. Kieran had no idea what it would cost me to go to the party.

  Greg offered his arm, and I linked mine through his. There was no spark. No heat.

  “Ready to go back in?” he asked.

  We returned to our seats to enjoy the opera.

  It was a great show with the best performers. I didn’t relish it the way I normally did. The prospect of attending the upcoming cast party frazzled my nerves. I should’ve been stronger and told Kieran I wouldn’t go.

  I couldn’t see him in the dark of the hall, but he was there. That left me with the distinct impression that I should be next to him, which wasn’t my place anymore. I didn’t like being at odds with myself.

  The opera ended, and the conductor took the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, I hope my old friend won’t hold this against me, but I wanted to invite him up onto the stage. Maestro, will you join me?”

  The audience broke out in wild applause.

  Another way the music community celebrated each other was to bring famous faces into the spotlight before or after a performance for the enjoyment of the patrons.

  The crowd beckoned for Kieran to play something. He stared right at me. Right. At. Me. I leaned back in my chair, the impact socking me in the stomach. The tension that’d been building between us tightened inside me, making it hard to draw in enough oxygen.

  “What shall I play tonight? Nothing that could match this performance.” He and the conductor shook hands and waited for the audience to reply.

  Kieran played almost every instrument, most of them masterfully, but violin and piano were his best as he composed on them. “The violin, if you would, Maestro. Perhaps Bach. Your choice.”

  All of New York knew that Kieran loved Bach. He was handed a violin.

  He pointed the bow at me, winked, and then played. Within three notes, I knew what he was playing. Partita in D Minor. Sad, tragic, heartbroken. He’d closed his eyes, and the quivering of his eyelids and the tension in his mouth shifted with the music. Was this a message for me? The deeply moving piece played like the hurt in my heart, drawing tears to my eyes.

  At the end, Greg leaned over and whispered in my ear, “He’s really amazing.”

  “His music, yes, it is.” I couldn’t admit that he was amazing, the most spectacular man I’d ever met.

  * * *

  Greg couldn’t sit still in the black limo on the way to Todd Raglan’s house. “I have to tell you that I work for Music Mod. I might end up talking about some of this on the show or writing a piece about it for the website.”

  Kieran nodded obligingly. “No problem. There’ll be journalists around tonight. Let me know if there’s anyone you’d like to meet.”

  Greg’s smiled widened, and he bounced his heel against the floor of the limo.

  I hated sitting across from Kieran and really hated when his date, Chloe, let her arm rest on his thigh, her hand dangling between his legs. They were probably intimate, or would be later, and I sat, chewing on that and trying not to throw ice at her.

  She kept pressing buttons to change the color of the lights lining the ceiling of the limo, making the glare off her bleached-blonde hair reflect those colors. I tried not to stare directly at her hair; it made me dizzy.

  “Rae, I didn’t realize you were dating someone. How did you meet?” Kieran asked.

  Adrenaline sharpened my senses, and I caught a whiff of him, clean linen and pine. “We live in the same building,” I said, pushing the words through gritted teeth. I wasn’t dating Greg. This was our first outing and, as far as first dates went, it was pretty mediocre. I wouldn’t discount scoring a cool friendship from it.

  “Young people falling in love is magical,” Chloe said.

  I shot her a cutting glower. I couldn’t pinpoint Chloe’s age, maybe midfifties based on her voice and the slight lines around her eyes. Her dark roots gave away she wasn’t a natural blonde. The tightness of her skin indicated she’d had cosmetic work done. Her nose was too straight and her cheekbones too pronounced. Or maybe the beauty gods had been feeling especially generous with her, because she’d missed the brains line.

  I recognized my meanness, but I needed to get through this night without getting weepy or overemotional. Mentally and emotionally, I was being assaulted. I needed to strike back, even if only in my nasty thoughts.

  I pinned my gaze out the window, which was hard in a limo. When I turned, it put me knee to knee with Greg, and he lightly set his hand on my leg. I was in a bad mood about this party, but Greg had been the perfect date. He had no idea what was in my head. I wouldn’t use him to get back at Kieran, although the idea of kissing Greg and forcing my entire attention on him to see if I could ignite passion, desire, lust, anything, appealed enormously.

  Let Kieran feel what it was like to watch a couple pawing at each other. Except it wouldn’t be fair to Greg to act unbalanced, and I guessed Kieran wouldn
’t care, which would leave me as a stupid jerk.

  Kieran was open about sex like few people were. He spoke of it the way others discussed dinner plans, not in great detail or in a gross way. To him, it was just a part of life. While we rarely talked about the women he slept with, I had the sense he didn’t assign meaning to their affairs the way I did. Hence, his booty calls when he wanted to get laid were like calling for takeout.

  “Which song was your favorite?” Chloe directed her question to Greg.

  I turned to her, the current purple light gleaming in her updo.

  Kieran glared at Greg’s hand. He was protective of me, and maybe that was part of the problem. I was in love with him, and he didn’t like competing for my attention. That didn’t give me much of a chance to meet anyone else or spend time with them.

  We’d once been in the Netherlands for a performance, and the conductor of another orchestra had asked me out for coffee. I’d said yes, but Kieran had made sure the date hadn’t happened. He’d needed me in the middle of it. Ridiculous. I wasn’t one of his instruments to be used as he saw fit.

  We stayed on safe topics and spoke about the music, Greg and Kieran carrying the conversation.

  When we arrived at Todd’s place, I escaped the car quickly. Chloe’s vanilla perfume gave me a headache. The cold air against my overheated skin calmed me down.

  “Would you like my jacket?” Greg asked.

  Back to date mode. I nodded, and Greg draped his jacket over my thin one. His hung almost to my knees. He offered me his arm, and I put Kieran out of my mind as we walked along the brightly lit pathway leading to the front door.

  After we walked through the two-story pillars and double entryway doors, Todd greeted us, embracing Kieran and waving at me. Todd had been an opera star since his twenties. He came from family money and fit the image of a wealthy socialite, with his styled-to-be-perfectly-messy hair, year-round tan, straight, bleached white teeth, and a body that came from having a private indoor swimming pool and visits from a daily trainer. Kieran, Chloe, and Todd conversed, and Greg and I drifted past into the foyer, beneath a gleaming wood staircase that veered off in two directions.

  I’d been here once before to drop off a Christmas present from Kieran to Todd, which I’d left with Todd’s assistant.

  The entire main floor was perfect for entertaining, one room flowing into the other, with a huge ballroom in the rear of the house.

  Greg gestured to the bar situated near the entrance to the ballroom. “Can I get you a drink?”

  I smiled with appreciation. “A club soda, thank you.”

  He hurried to get it, and I watched him speaking to another man at the bar, an actor on Broadway in a play that was receiving rave reviews and had sold out for the next two years. I couldn’t put a name to his face, but it’d come to me.

  That conversation could go on for a while. Greg might get some good information for his job, and I was glad if it benefitted him. New York was a tough place to find work. Every bump up helped.

  Kieran was speaking with Chloe and a few others, and when I glanced at him, he stared at me in a way that was obvious and not socially acceptable. I made a silly face and a circling motion with my hand, encouraging him to turn around.

  He said something to the group over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine, then walked toward me with purpose. This time, I didn’t run away. That hadn’t worked out how I’d wanted it to before, so I held my ground, wishing I had something to do with my hands. Greg hadn’t returned with my soda, so I shifted my clutch. Usually at these parties, I was working, and idle socialization wasn’t my forte.

  “What’s with the face?” Kieran asked.

  “My face? It’s the same as ever.” I touched my cheeks.

  “Not that. I mean the go-away face you keep making.”

  I winked at him. “Maybe it’s a hint.”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “That’s harsh, Rae.”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m in a mood.”

  “I can see that,” he murmured. His gaze traveled from my face, down my body, lingering only a second longer on my breasts, to my toes and back up again.

  He’d never done that before. “Trying to figure something out?”

  “Since you’re not telling me anything, I’ve got to work with the clues I have.”

  “What clues are those?”

  He leaned close to me, and the scent of linen and pine, so distinctly the Maestro, washed over me. “You left me, and you don’t call. I haven’t called you either. Not any of the thousand times I’ve wanted to. That should count for something, but I’m looking at you, wearing another man’s suit jacket, and I feel like my restraint is just pushing you further away.”

  My breath caught and my heart thumped hard enough I could hear it in my ears. Another man’s jacket… I’ve worn Kieran’s suit jacket before when I’ve been cold. What’s he telling me? Usually, he was the clueless one, but the tables were turned, and I didn’t enjoy this hazy, dizzy sensation cluttering up my head.

  “Maybe you want me to pursue you.” He lowered his voice and was speaking directly into my ear, his warm breath brushing my neck.

  I grabbed his forearm, looking for anything to steady my quaking body. Having him this close was doing crazy things to my pulse. “I’m not playing games.”

  He drew away, and I ached to close the distance again. “I miss you,” he said.

  I struggled to find a rational reason for his words. “Right. Because your new assistant isn’t working out.”

  “Not just that. She doesn’t love the music. She doesn’t understand me.”

  “No one understands you. I don’t think you understand you. As soon as I think I’ve unlocked one of your many mysterious quirks, you change things or play differently or obsess about a new instrument.”

  Kieran reached out his hand, and then, as if reconsidering, drew back. “You were a big part of my life, and now that you’re gone, I don’t know what to do.”

  Things he could do flashed to mind: finish his symphony, train his new assistant, have a relationship with Chloe. “Chloe is new. Spend time with her.” It killed me to say the words, and my anger threaded every syllable. I didn’t want him doing her.

  He inclined his head as if he were trying to understand me. Since he rarely did that, I didn’t fill in any blanks for him. Let him struggle to figure me out for once. “She’s a patron of music. We’re friendly. That’s all. What about you and Greg? Is he the reason you left?”

  “He has nothing to do with my new job.”

  Greg approached and handed me a glass of wine. “Sorry for the delay. You would not believe some of the people here!”

  I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the alcohol. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  Kieran touched the stem of my glass. “Rae doesn’t drink.”

  Greg brought his hand to his forehead. “You said club soda. I got that totally wrong. Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. No big deal.” To prove my point, I took a sip, a small, barely-touching-of-the-liquid-to-my-lips sip.

  I was a featherweight with booze. Three years before, we’d been traveling with the orchestra, and I’d drunk a glass of what I thought was wine. It’d been some French drink with a higher alcohol content. I’d drunk it, then thrown up on Kieran, and he’d carried me back to the hotel. I don’t remember the entire night, but I know it involved him cleaning up after me. He’d never brought it up, and since the whole thing embarrassed me, I kept my silence on it.

  “Enjoy yourself tonight,” Kieran said. With one last worried glance between the wine glass and me, Kieran strolled away.

  I let Greg lead me through the crowd. He struck up conversations, and I nodded along. People loved to talk about themselves. As I was a willing listener, it made the night that much simpler for me.

  All night, I tried to sell myself on dating Greg, on how convenient it’d be.

  I’d overanalyze the night later, but I k
new one thing for sure: I wasn’t over Kieran.

  3

  I expected the knock on the door late in the night.

  I’d known Kieran would come, a sixth sense I’d developed while working for him. He didn’t have the same sense of time normal people did. He was the least routine-bound person I knew, and because of that, getting him to places at the right time required planning and effort. The best part of his inconsistent schedule was that he never suffered from jet lag.

  Kieran had come tonight because he wasn’t finished with our conversation. He’d found or remembered my address, or called Glory to get it. When it mattered, he’d make an effort to get what he wanted.

  Right now, he wanted me. I dragged in air and stamped out the warm glow that lit inside me. This visit had nothing to do with desire, at least not for him.

  I checked out the peephole and confirmed it was the Maestro. I wore white shorts, much too short, and a dark purple tank top. The nights were starting to get chilly, but the thermostat in my apartment didn’t work properly. It had two settings: off and boiling.

  I knew I should put on more clothes, but he’d seen me wearing less, like the time we went swimming in Brazil and I’d worn a string bikini, conservative compared to others there, and he’d barely glanced at me.

  I unlocked the five bolts, each squeaking and groaning, and opened the door. The black sedan Kieran used pulled away from the curb. I guessed that meant he planned to stay for a while.

  Kieran entered without a word, a black trinity flat cap drawn over his face, his suit jacket gone and his crisp white button-down rolled to his elbows. Then he tilted back his head and sucked in his breath as his gaze raked me head to toe. “Are you with your lover tonight?”

  I gestured around the room and shook my head. I was twenty-six years old and had no lover. Had never had a lover.

  I was naïve and impossibly ruined because when I did eventually take a lover, I might need to explain how I was this old and hadn’t had sex, which was due to a series of circumstances directly involving Kieran, at least toward the end. Because I’d waited so long, I didn’t want to throw away my first time with some rando who wouldn’t care about me after. That left me with fewer possibilities. It wasn’t my biggest problem, but it bothered me.