“Non, this is no exaggeration, ma petite. This music you created, it is a gift from God.”
Dawn rolled her eyes and shook her head. Yes, it was her best work, and she knew it was good, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. She hadn’t even polished it yet.
“Are you really gay?” she blurted. “I had such a crush on you as a teen.”
“And it never made sense to me, because I’m as queer as they come.”
“Kellen will be glad to hear that,” she said.
“Please, please, join us to create the scores for this project.”
“Maybe I want to create my own score on another project.”
“Plenty of time for that, ma cherie. You’re young. Everlong and I? Not so much.”
Everlong was pushing eighty, but Pierre was not yet fifty. He had plenty of time to compose. Which reminded her . . .
“When did you start composing? Have you given up on teaching?”
“You, cherie. You inspired me to follow my true dream. You were so young yet so certain of your path. So driven despite your father’s wishes. So passionate and talented. And when you told me you didn’t really want to perform despite how much effort and love you put into every performance, that you actually wanted to write because writing was a true expression of the soul—performing but an expression of the heart, the mind and body—I couldn’t stop thinking about your words, and I followed the path you directed me toward.”
“Me? I was fifteen when I said that.” She laughed and hugged him again. “Who takes a fifteen year old seriously?”
“A man smart enough to recognize true genius.”
“I thought you’d drowned,” Wes said from several steps away.
What exactly did these guys think she did with toilets that would lead to her drowning?
“I almost did, but Pierre rescued me.”
Wes chuckled. “I actually thought you were freaking out in the bathroom. I’m glad I don’t have to go in there after you.”
“I was freaking out in the bathroom.”
“Understandable. They’re sending the contracts to my office tomorrow morning. You should have time to sign them before you catch your flight.”
Dawn took Pierre’s hand and squeezed. “I’m not yet sure I’m signing.”
Wes blinked at her. “What? You’re kidding, right? This isn’t the kind of opportunity you consider, it’s the kind you jump on.”
“Let her follow her heart,” Pierre said, lifting her hand and kissing her knuckles. He was so dreamy. He was going to make some lucky guy very happy one day. “Her heart has never steered her wrong.”
An image of Kellen flitted through her thoughts, and she smiled. She was certain that Pierre was right; her heart never steered her wrong. And while her head was ready to accept whatever crappy deal these people sent her way, her heart wanted a little longer to consider where this future might lead her.
“I’ll read them tomorrow,” Dawn promised. “I just don’t want you to promise anyone I’ll sign them.”
“You want to negotiate.” Wes’s eyes lit with excitement, and Dawn grinned at him. Nothing excited Wes more than a brutal round of contract negotiations.
“I might. Let’s see what the deal is before we make a move.”
Wes grabbed her head between his palms, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “This one,” he said. “She’s going places.”
Pierre smiled. “Hopefully at my piano bench once more. I have so missed the way she plays. I’ve been to several of her performances, but they’re never as amazing as her private recitals for one.”
And the only recitals for one in her future would be with an audience of Kellen Jamison. Those special sessions always ended with hot and heavy sex and an earth-shattering orgasm. She flushed at the direction of her thoughts. They’d been apart mere hours and already she missed him. Craved him. She wondered how his concert for thousands was going.
“I didn’t know you attended my performances,” Dawn said. “I wish you’d let me know; we could have met after the show.” God, she was lonely after shows. Her reality wasn’t anything like Kellen’s where each show was bookended with fun and shenanigans. A certain level of propriety was expected of her. She might have wine or champagne, but had never had a crowd of fans try to do something outlandish like sneak into her dressing room and wait for her naked, lubed up, and ready to roll. She’d have called the cops if one had.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after the way you had me fired,” Pierre said.
Dawn scrunched her eyebrows together. “The way I had you fired? What do you mean? You quit. Never even said goodbye to me. I thought it was because I tried to seduce you.”
“I had no choice but to leave after you told your father I had behaved most ungentlemanly.”
Dawn shook her head. “Of course I wouldn’t tell my father that. Especially since it wasn’t true.”
“He showed me your torn dress and told me if he ever saw my face again, he’d have me tossed in prison.”
Dawn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d been devastated when Pierre had quit offering her private lessons right after she’d thrown himself at him. There’d been no torn dress. And though he’d turned her down, he hadn’t been cruel about it. He hadn’t laughed at her for trying to be an adult when she’d been a child.
So her father had chased Pierre away. She should have guessed as much.
“I cannot believe that man!” And yet, she could. She knew how tirelessly her father worked to rule her life. She was sure there were many more instances of him trying to set her on the path he’d chosen for her even as she’d wandered as far from it as possible.
She grabbed Pierre’s arm, and stared up into his kind eyes. “I hope you believe I never accused you of any wrongdoing—and my father should be the one apologizing—but I’m sorry you got caught between us. I’m sorry he threatened you. I’m sor—”
Pierre covered her lips with two fingers. “Non.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for believing you capable of such lies.”
“Dawn,” Wes interrupted, “we’d better get back to the table. They’ll think we’re conspiring.”
She wasn’t conspiring, she was fuming. She’d never connected with another musician the way she’d connected with Pierre. He’d understood exactly how to get the best sound from her and made her dream of creating her own music. Her own songs. He was the one who’d given her the confidence to pursue music as a career, not just as a hobby that won her pretty ribbons and trophies.
“Pierre, if I sign this deal, will we be working together or will I be with Everlong?”
“He’s fantastic, cherie. You will learn so much from him. It is he you should be excited to work with, not I.”
“I feel comfortable with you. Perhaps that’s why I thought I was in love with you. I think he’ll just make me nervous.”
“I have no doubt that he will at first. He is not easy to know, but don’t let that stop you from learning from him.”
“And how did you meet him?”