“Because he wanted me to go to high school instead of tour professionally?”
“No, he was probably right about that. I thought he was an asshole because he keeps his distance from you instead of saying how he really feels.”
My body tightens as I remember his hands on my thighs, his tongue on my clit. “What if the way he feels about me isn’t appropriate for a guardian to his ward?”
“He isn’t a regular guardian,” she says gently. “And you aren’t a regular ward. So why should your feelings be the same as other people?”
“Beatrix, whatever happened between you and Edward?” He was her father’s business partner. When both her parents died, he became the trustee of the considerable wealth she inherited. The only thing I know is that they had a falling out about her husband.
“He wanted to marry me,” she admits. “Not in the sweet ‘I love you’ way. More like a ‘you can’t leave the penthouse so you’ll make a nice attic wife for me’ way.”
“Oh, Bea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was embarrassed. Ashamed, really. I didn’t have a regular life going to high school. You know I couldn’t even leave the hotel for years, until I met Hugo.”
“Edward didn’t take it well?”
“No, and there’s something else, something I found out about his past. It doesn’t matter now except to say that he’s not a good man.”
My heart clenches. “I’m sorry.”
“I know we have this in common, and I’m grateful to call you my friend. But our situations are completely different. Even before I knew the truth about Edward, I knew I couldn’t marry him. That I would never love him—not as a husband or as a guardian.”
She’s right. Our situations aren’t the same at all. If Liam North were to ask me to marry him, I would give up everything to say yes. The tour, a music career. Traveling the world. I’m excited about it, but it pales in comparison to the man one floor down. Of course, he would never ask me to marry him. He doesn’t even want to see me again. I stroke the smooth wood of the Stradivarius, which may be all I ever have of Liam North.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The world’s fastest violinist played “The Flight of the Bumblebee” averaging fifteen notes per second.
SAMANTHA
Laney insists on taking me to the local café, where we have tea and chocolate croissants while discussing the latest Outlander episode. Josh drives us there, even securing the back exit before he lets us come inside. I give him a strange look. He’s often been responsible for driving us around, the most overqualified chauffeur in the world, but this seems extreme.
In answer he gives me a wink and takes his latte outside.
I glance back at Laney, who’s trying to hide her grin. And the notch of worry between her eyes is gone. “Do you have good news?” I demand, already suspecting as much.
A grin. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but…my mom got back last night. She’s exhausted but absolutely all in one piece. I checked. Two arms. Two legs. One nose. It’s all there.”
I give her a quick hug. “I’m so glad. But wait. Why were you not supposed to tell me?”
> She rolls her eyes. “Because Elijah came back with her, and he’s all like, ‘I got Samantha a snow globe from the Kremlin and you can’t tell her I’m here until I give it to her.’”
A bemused laugh escapes me. None of that sounds true. “Whatever.”
“The important thing is that everyone is home. Nothing dangerous ever happens in Kingston.”
I stick out my tongue at her. “Way to tempt fate.”
An unrepentant grin. “Sorry, but I’m a firm believer in nihilism. We don’t believe in fate, but we also think that if fate did exist, tempting it wouldn’t matter. What’s going to happen will happen.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s determinism.”
“Exactly,” she says, snatching the last bite of chocolate croissant from my plate. “Which means I’m not responsible for stealing this, and it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“You know what? I’m not even mad.”
She grins. “Because you have a fancy new violin waiting at home?”