“Of course. My Friday class finishes at noon, so I’ll come here right after, and I can do some evenings and weekends, too.”
“Good,” she says before handing me a list. “This is everything we have to do.”
I scan the paper until the words blur. “Sure. When is the event?”
“A month tomorrow,” she answers.
“That’s soon.”
“You can read a calendar. Good for you. Let’s get to work.”
After a couple of hours, Skylar announces she’s leaving for the day, and Max takes her place on the other side of the table. He’s dressed in more casual attire than I’m used to seeing around here. He’s wearing a navy blue collared shirt with a loosely knotted tie and black jeans.
“You’re still alive, I see,” he says after sitting across from me.
I force a smile. “Looks like it.”
“What’s keeping you around, blondie?” he asks, raking a hand through the mop of hair on his head.
“Uh, my education,” I answer. “I need this to graduate.”
“You don’t need the dozens of extra hours this charity event will give you.”
“Maybe I enjoy doing something for a good cause. Or maybe I like working here.”
“Really?” he inquires with an amused expression.
I shrug. “Yeah. Do you hate me or something? Are you still mad you didn’t get to kill me?”
Max laughs. “I don’t get to have a lot of fun around here, so I find entertainment in screwing with you. You’re such an easy target.”
I stare at him, scowling. “You’re such a child. I’ve been working my ass off around here for a while now, and you’ve treated me like shit since the beginning.” I stand and walk out of the room, leaving my belongings behind. I need some air—I need to take a break so I don’t attack Max and get my ass handed to me. Stepping off the elevator into the lobby, I offer Marisa a quick wave on my way to the door.
“Aurora, come here,” she calls after me, so I turn and walk to the reception desk.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“You look pissed. I didn’t think Mr. Westbrook was in the office today.”
I laugh. As agitated as I am, Marisa is good at making me feel better. “Yeah, he’s not.” Which is making avoiding him a bit easier. “It’s Max.”
“Ugh, he’s a major dick. All the time.”
“Tell me about it.” I sigh.
“Remember when you told me you play piano?”
I nod.
She glances around as if to make sure no one is overhearing our exchange. “I saw some movers bring a piano into the ballroom.” She points to a hallway off of the lobby. “The double doors at the end of the hall. You can’t miss it.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, my fingers already itching to play.
She grins. “It’ll make you feel better.” She drops a key on the counter. “No one else is in there. Go take a break and relax.”
“Thank you.” I grab the key and head for the ballroom before I can talk myself out of it. I hurry down the hallway as if I’m about to be caught doing something I shouldn’t.
After unlocking the door and closing it behind me, I take in the room. It’s elegant: gold walls, high ceilings, over-the-top chandeliers. The marble floor is so smooth it makes me want to lie on it and stare at the twinkling lights. My eyes land on the piano, and I suck in a breath as I walk over to it. It’s the most amazing piano I’ve ever seen. I can see my reflection in the glossy black finish. I lift the lid that covers the keys; they look as if they’ve never been touched. I run my fingers along them without pressing any and then sit on the bench. With a breath, forcing the tension out of my system, I put my fingers to the keys again. I can lose myself in the music. That’s what convinced me to come in here. A part of me is worried I’ll get caught, but the other part doesn’t care.
I wrote a song the last time I went home for a weekend. I don’t know where it came from, but the lyrics flew through me. As my fingers graze the keys, I sing, keeping in tune with the soft, deep key of the song that matches the lyrics.
He’s an unstable bomb
He makes me feel wrong
He makes me feel right
But that’s not for tonight
By the middle of the song, I’m belting it out with thick emotion laced in every word.
I hate that I wrote this damn song, but even more, I hate that it’s about him.
He shows his soft side
And will start to confide
But then makes a huge mess
Of the life I have left
The song comes to a close. Eyes shut and my hands in my lap, I sit there, taking several deep breaths before I open them again.
Clapping sounds behind me, shooting a wicked shiver up my spine, and I freeze.
“Boundaries mean nothing to you, do they?” Tristan’s amused voice carries through the empty room and latches onto my heart, sending it racing.
I scowl and turn to look at him. “You’re one to talk.”
He approaches at the same time I stand from the bench. Leaning against the side of the piano, I try to pull off a casual stance that fails epically. Damn. I need to get better at this shit.
“I own this hotel, Aurora, therefore nowhere is out of bounds for me.”
I roll my eyes. “Because that’s what I meant,” I respond dryly.
“I didn’t know you could play,” he comments, glancing at the piano.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Duly noted. That song you were playing, did you write it?”
My cheeks flush, and I want to look away. By the smug grin tugging at his lips, I can tell he already knows. “Yeah.”
“I like it.”
I rock back on my heels, wishing I could use that fae shifting trick to get the hell out of this room, away from his gaze. “Uh, thanks.”
“Max said you took off. What happened?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter now. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Do I need to be concerned?”
“If there were reason to be concerned, you would know. What are you doing here? Skylar said you’d be gone all day.”
“All right,” he concedes. “I had business to attend to this morning, but my afternoon meetings got canceled, so I came back. Care to join me for lunch?”
I sigh, shaking my head because hell yes I want to, but I shouldn’t. “Tristan.”
“Aurora,” he levels.
“I’m not sure what you think you’re doing when it comes to me, but—”
He closes the distance between us in a second, stopping just before he presses me against the piano. “Neither do I,” he says on an exhale.
When I don’t balk, he takes another step and creates a cage with his arms. “But when we’re close, your heartbeat kicks up, your cheeks flush, and best of all, you get this look in your eyes, and I never know if you’re going to smack me or let me closer.”
“Depends on the day,” I say without thinking.
He chuckles. “How’s today looking?”
My eyes narrow. “Not great.” I’ve gotten good at saying the exact opposite of what the voice in my head is screaming. She wants me to wrap myself around him and never let go, which is why I shove that voice away and force out the safe answer.
“Is that so?” he inquires.
I tilt my head back so I can look him in the eyes. “You want to get closer to me?”
His eyes darken. “Hmm.”