I must’ve replayed the video of Celina walking five times, before a distinct sound filled the air. The loving melody of a violin.
Hmmm. What is Eden playing today?
For the first time that day, my shoulders relaxed. I didn’t even know I’d had them up and in a tense position.
Eden played Eros somewhere far off in the house. When she did, the staff quieted, took their break, sat, and listened. They’d been doing that for a while. It had almost become set in the house’s daily schedule.
What will she play for them today?
The song began, and instantly I knew it before the next notes started. It was the sound of love. At least, our love. It was our new song. She’d began playing Strauss’s Sonata, but the more she practiced, the more it became her own.
Sorry, Strauss. She stole it from you.
Smiling, I rose from the desk, left my office, and walked down the hall. As I assumed. The butler sat in the living room with the others. He sipped tea. A few maids sipped wine.
Let’s just enjoy the day. Why don’t we?
Eden sat in the center, completely possessed by Eros. They co-created the sonata. The whole staff had apparently taken a break to listen. No one cared that I stepped inside. I checked the maids, but didn’t see Sophia or Giorgio around, assuming he was banging her in one of my supply closets.
At least the supply closet will be the cleanest it has been in years.
Giorgio always cleaned his messes.
I returned to the room and left my cousin’s odd exploits alone.
My staff were all enraptured with Eden.
As I stepped deeper into the living room, she was getting closer and closer to the second movement.
Romance had served as the first movement. It had all been romantic and sensual before. All pretty and smelling good. All full of love.
But when Eden fell into the second movement it came through like a crash. It was nothing like Strauss’s Sonata. It was her own. Some had started Strauss’s sonata in andante cantabile. Andante meant moderately slow. Cantabile meant in a singing or flowing style. I counted Eden’s beats. Too fast. Too quick.
She intended it. Eden was slowly luring us into the second movement by adding more tension. And then she glided us into the act.
She created a turbulent middle section. It rudely interrupted the dream-like reverie of the beginning. It was violent, yet mysterious. It was haunting and sad. I loved and hated it at the same time.
The second movement ran me raggedy with emotion.
In the second act, I thought I would lose my breath.
In the second act, I thought I would lose my mind.
I sat down next to my chef who’d been lounging by the fireplace. Just when I was going to beg for mercy, she eased our broken minds and hearts into the final act.
I caught my breath. I relaxed knowing that everything would be okay. The first and second movement had all been necessary.
Because, how can someone truly have gratitude for the release, if not for the pressure?
I’d been thinking about the smell of love, after our perfume date. But I hadn’t put much into the sound of love.
Surely sound was capable of producing powerful reactions in the listener. A lion’s roar would send shivers down most spines. The theme from a favorite childhood cartoon would trigger thoughts of nostalgia. While language was a vital part to communication, the sounds and tones contained within the language contributed to the words even more.
There was definitely a relationship between sound and emotional states.
Didn’t music produce some of the strongest emotional reactions in humans? Sadness. Excitement. Dread. Joy. If one gathered ten people in a room from different cultures, races, and religions, they could still get those ten people to agree to which songs were happy and sad.
And Eden being a siren, she had power over sound. She commanded a powerful ability to conjure up images and feelings through her bow strokes. She tantalized the brain.
I want to be inside of her. Right. Now.
Finally, she entered into the third act of the sonata. It was a quiet, introspective part. The romance returned. The desire increased. And then Eden and the violin broke forth with ascending, slashing passages from its lowest to its highest, creating a sense of drama and importance. Yet a playfulness that snuck into the music almost without notice.
I gripped my cock by the end of the song.
Strauss would be jealous.
She placed the violin on her lap and left position. Everyone clapped. She spotted me. I rose and clapped with them.
They begged her to play something else, but I wasn’t having it. They were lucky they got to hear the whole Sonata at all.
“Thank you so much, Eden.” I kept my expression neutral as my gaze remained on her. “Let’s get back to work, everyone.”