Sonata (North Security 3)

“Ah, you surpass me without even breaking a sweat,” he says, looking charmed.

My heart flutters at the look in his eyes—intense and a little romantic. It’s enough to distract from the pain in my heart. The realization that I’m fully alone. Am I, though? There’s a handsome man sitting on the piano bench with me. Someone who understands my passion for music the way someone else never could. The way Liam never could. The idea feels disloyal but still true.

I touch the keys without pressing them down. “What would you say if I never played the violin again? Would I still be Samantha Brooks? Or would I be someone else?”

His eyes search mine. Concern tightens his expression. “Is that what you want?”

What a funny idea. Is that what you want? My future has been foretold for so long I’m not even sure I know how to want. Unless base human desires count as wanting. I want to be held, to be kissed, to be safe. Is that what he means? The violin gives me none of those things—and all of them, because men are only in my life because of my skill.

Alexander’s close enough that I can see the brown flecks in his eyes. Close enough I feel the warmth of his breath. “Stop me if you don’t want this,” he murmurs, before his lips glance mine.

There would be no time to stop him, but I don’t really want to. Isn’t that what human touch is about? Knowing that we aren’t floating helplessly through space and time? His mouth is warm over mine, comfo

rting. This is courting, I realize. He presses more firmly but doesn’t put his tongue in my mouth. He doesn’t grab my breast over my dress. This isn’t about sex. It’s about… affection.

He pulls back slightly, and I breathe in the moment between us.

My eyes open slowly. A light burns in his eyes, and I realize I’ve misread this. I’ve misread everything. Maybe it comes from growing up overprotected. What would have happened at a middle school dance? What would have happened if there’d been a boy’s basement? Alexander feels lust, even if the only thing I feel for him is a kindness, a yearning. For what? For innocence.

“Did I move too fast?” he asks, his lids dropping low.

He respects me enough to wait. I don’t want him to. Prove that I can want someone else. Prove that I can desire another man. I reach up to grasp his neck. He feels different here. Softer. His hair a little longer at the back, curling over his collar. He obeys my silent command, giving me a deeper kiss that steals my breath in its intimacy. His tongue touches mine in question. He tastes different.

He tastes different. As if there’s one right way to taste. The Liam North flavor. The feel of his body. He’s the standard by which I measure every other man. No one else will live up.

I tear myself away, breathing hard.

“Sorry,” he says, a little breathless. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I was the one who—” I was the one who wanted to see how fully my body had imprinted on Liam. Like those musicians who can only play one instrument. My particular instrument is hard and gruff and wounded, but it’s mine.

Arousal makes Alexander more stern. More handsome. There is some woman who would swoon for him. That woman isn’t me. “I’d like to see you again,” he says. “Outside the concert.”

My mouth opens. Nothing comes out. No polite refusals. No explanations.

He glances towards the door. “Are you thinking of Liam North?”

This is worse. Or maybe it’s better. If he understands the way my heart is already claimed—

“I know he’s your guardian,” he says, his voice low as if imparting a secret. “And I see the way he looks at you. Some men think they can control you. He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”

Oh God. “No. I promise, no.”

“He’s friends with Frans. I’ve heard the rumors about him.”

The rumors about Fransisco? That makes me want to ask Isa whether she’s okay. Maybe she needs help. Then again she seems happy enough. “He isn’t dangerous, is he?”

A small laugh. “Every man is dangerous if he’s threatened.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.” He says it solemnly, as if making a promise. “If you need to get away from him, I can make that happen. I have friends here in Paris who will help me. He has no legal hold on you anymore.”

No legal hold on me. Something far more unbreakable. A hold on my heart.

“I’m not in trouble,” I say, my voice as serious as Alexander’s. Because it’s not entirely the truth. I’m in danger from a thousand different sources. From violence and from heartbreak. It’s not because a man won’t let go, though. It’s because he won’t hold on. “Thank you for your concern. Believe me, it means the world to know you’d do that, but I’m okay.”

He composes a soft, quick ending to our playful music from before. “In that case, I should leave you to your solitude that I so rudely interrupted.”