Keith shifted his attention back to Cain. “I hear you have a call with the Tokyo team next week. I’d love to sit in on that. I’ve been working on expanding that market, and I’d hate to lose progress because we have a potential change in leadership.”
Cain’s only response was to shove back his chair, stand, and leave the room without a word.
There was a stunned silence that Keith broke with a laugh. “Well, Violet. Guess you and he haven’t hit the manners portion of your lessons yet, huh?”
“Nor, apparently, yours,” Violet said coolly. She wiped her mouth and glanced at Edith. “Excuse me for a moment, please.”
She stood and followed Cain before she could think how that would look to Edith and Keith. Before she could even register why she was doing it.
“For God’s sake, Keith,” Edith said crisply. “I’m not asking you to be his best friend, just to treat him with respect…”
Violet stepped out of the dining room and headed toward the front door, hoping she could catch Cain before he stormed out of Edith’s house.
Her footsteps faltered at the sound of music, though, and instead of going to the front door, she turned to the sitting room near the front of the brownstone. It was a small room, not used as often as the main parlor, as the expanse of windows made it too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter.
It also had limited seating, as the majority of the room was taken up by a piano.
A piano that Cain Rhodes knew how to play. Quite well.
His back was to her as she stood in the doorway, listening as he played an unfamiliar song, something that managed to be both upbeat and jazzy, and yet somehow also just a touch melancholy.
She waited until the song slowed to the end before speaking, her voice soft. “All that talk about jazz, and yet somehow you never mentioned you played.”
Cain’s hands froze over the keys at the sound of her voice before resuming their playing, slightly lighter than before. “You’re hardly one to talk.” He glanced up briefly. “How is it that earlier when Keith asked what sort of music I liked, he replied to my response by declaring he didn’t know anyone who listened to jazz?”
She shifted in the doorway. “Your point?”
“Your man should know what sort of music you listen to, Duchess.”
Your man.
The phrase was uncomfortable in a way she didn’t feel like exploring.
She stepped farther into the room. “You took lessons?”
For a moment he said nothing, merely played on. “My mom played. We didn’t have enough money for a bed for me or for birthday gifts or new clothes. But she’d have rather died than sell the upright she inherited from her grandmother.”
Violet stepped closer, pulled in by the music. The man. “She taught you?”
“I guess. More felt like I just always knew how to play.”
“Where’s that piano now?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Duchess.”
Violet was right behind him now, watching his fingers move over the keys, feeling a little wistful at his effortless skill. “I always wanted to play. I took lessons for a few years, but I guess I didn’t want it bad enough, because I hated to practice. The only song I ever mastered was ‘Heart and Soul.’ My mom and I used to play it, over and over, because I couldn’t get enough.”
For a long moment Cain said nothing in response. When he did reply, it wasn’t with words. He shifted slightly on the bench to his left. Making room for her.
She sat beside him, her back to the piano, as he transitioned to something more jazzy, more upbeat. But also not quite like anything she’d heard in jazz clubs. It was moodier somehow. Sultry.
“Sorry about in there,” she said quietly, tipping her head toward the dining room.
He didn’t stop his playing. Didn’t respond.
“Keith can be…” She sighed. “He’s struggling. He’s put a lot of himself into the company, and it’s hard for him to have an outsider come in and take a position he thinks should be his.”
Cain’s eyes flicked up for the briefest of moments. “That’s not what he should be possessive of.”
Violet didn’t reply. Couldn’t. But neither did she look away. A mistake. His fingers still moving over the keys, he slowly tilted his face toward hers. She became all too aware that piano benches were built for one and that they were hip-to-hip, their faces just inches from each other.
All week she’d been trying to figure out how to convince him to shave his beard. Up close, she realized she didn’t want him to. Not until she knew its texture, not until she knew how it would feel.
He held her gaze for only a second longer before looking back down at the piano.
“You still play ‘Heart and Soul’?”