Necromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 6)

“Nothing.” She glanced at Mandy. “Why would you think there’s something going on?”

“His bodyguards called the office yesterday, asking if you were all right. They said you guys had history or something.”

Alice quickened her step. “Listening to gossip, again?”

“Only when it concerns a hot-as-hell rock star and my colleague,” Mandy said, out of breath.

Alice stopped in front of door number nine. “I’ll take it from here.”

Mandy scooted past her. “I want to see this.”

Steeling herself, Alice entered the room. Everyone was eerily quiet. The members of the orchestra were staring between Verlene and Ivan. Verlene faced a corner, her arms crossed over her chest, and Ivan was perched on the desk with a big grin on his face.

Approaching Ivan, Alice said under her breath, “What’s going on?”

“Morning, Princess.” He raked his gaze over her.

“Ivan, I’m serious. What’s the meaning of this?”

“You are,” Verlene said, spinning around to face them.

Alice stared at her. “What?”

Verlene’s lip curled up in one corner. “He won’t sing Con Te Partirò unless it’s with you.”

Alice gave a nervous laugh. “No more jokes, Ivan. It’s in your best interest to work with Verlene. The critics say you’re not going to pull the symphonic part off, so you have much to prove.”

He hopped from the desk. “I want to sing it with you.”

“I don’t sing.”

“You used to.”

“Years ago. I’m a publicity officer, now.”

“I need someone to practice with.” He held his hand out to her. “It’s going to be you.”

Alice glanced at the choir of faces witnessing the spectacle. “I haven’t done this in a long time. My voice is unpracticed. We can get you a member of the choir, tomorrow. For now—”

He wrapped his fingers around hers and dragged her to him. “It’s going to be you.”

She couldn’t pull away without making a scene in front of everyone. Verlene glared at them, and Mandy had her hand clutched over her bared heart.

“Ivan, I—”

“Give her the key,” he said to Verlene, positioning Alice in front of the stand with the music sheet.

Verlene waved at the pianist. “Let’s get on with this goddamn rehearsal.”

A note sounded in the space, B-flat major. Alice strained away, but Ivan held fast.

“Go on,” he said.

She rolled her shoulders in frustration. “I can’t.”

Verlene stamped her foot. “Alice, for God’s sake, we’ve wasted enough time as it is. Just practice with him so we can get the show started.”

Alice opened her mouth. The sound that came out sounded like a croak. She cleared her throat and shook her head, but the pianist had already played the intro, and Ivan sang his part of the score. Everyone looked at her with expectation. She could do this. She’d done it before. Taking the plunge, she opened her mouth and sang, but it was off-key. The music stopped.

Her face heated. “This is terribly embarrassing.”

“Again,” Ivan said.

“Are you trying to humiliate me?” she whispered.

He ignored her, singing his part again and waiting theatrically for her to join in. The second time round, she sounded slightly better, but still stiff.

She paused. “This isn’t working. I’ll get you—”

Ivan reached for her face before she could finish her sentence.

She pulled away when he gripped her glasses. “What are you doing?”

He lifted them off her face and dropped them in his pocket. “Don’t read the music. Just sing.” He waved at the pianist. “Again.”

She closed her eyes. How hard could it be? She used to be pretty good at this. The high notes were her favorites. Con Te Partirò was perfect for her voice. Trying to ignore the curious audience, she gave herself over to the music. Listening to Ivan sing made it easier. His voice was like deep, dark chocolate, sweeping her into the song against her will, effortlessly breaking down her defenses.

Her third attempt sounded better, and even better still when her voice had warmed up. Damn, it felt good to sing. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. It was as if old, stale air trapped in her chest escaped. The tightness inside of her snapped, a tension she wasn’t aware of having, and as she welcomed the sensation, her voice rose in volume, reaching the high notes effortlessly. Lost in the music, reality only returned when she became aware that Ivan wasn’t singing, any longer, and the piano had stopped playing.

She pressed her lips together. Everyone was staring at her. Mandy gaped, and Verlene regarded her with a pout, the wrinkles around her mouth making it appear like a shriveled prune.

“Stop,” Verlene said. “Just stop. This is torture to my ears. You’re not here to sing solo, Alice. Either we stick to the program or I quit.”

Ivan walked to Verlene slowly, his cold eyes fixed on her face.

Verlene’s lips parted. She took a step back and pointed a finger at him. “Stay away from me, you loony.”

He gripped her finger and reeled her in until his hand covered hers completely. “You want Alice to sing, don’t you, Verlene?”