A Wicked Song (Brilliance Trilogy 2)

About noon, Nancy sets a takeout container and plasticware in front of me. “Surprise. I ordered you lunch. I opted for your favorite mac n’ cheese from Cindy’s Diner, since it requires only one hand to eat.”

“You’re an angel.”

She grins. “I know.”

I open the plastic around my spoon. “When are you leaving?”

“So much love it’s killing me.” She pats on her chest above her heart. “And I’m leaving at the usual time,” she says primly. “Two o’clock.” She doesn’t wait for me to argue. She disappears into the hallway and I sigh. She’s stubborn and I love her. I wish I could do more for her, but right now, keeping her safe is my number one goal.

I open the lid to my mac n’ cheese which looks like nothing but cheesy wonderful goodness and a million calories. But what the heck. I’ve eaten a cookie for breakfast. Why not pasta for lunch? It’s not like I’m rolling around naked with the hottest man I’ve ever known and want to look good or anything like that. Okay, I am, and I do want to look good, but whoever said skinny tasted better than food was lying. Kace has a gym. I’ll use it, but I’m not skipping my meal.

I’m three bites in when my phone buzzes with a text where it lies on the desk next to me. I do some maneuvering with my injured hand, manage to punch the appropriate buttons, and find a message from Kace waiting for me. There are two photos of two violins with a message that reads: Charles Francois (pere) violin 1840 and a Lorenzo Carcassi violin 1743. What does it say that I wish you were here to see them with me?

I’m filled up in the best of ways with those words and set my fork down to reply. After only a moment of hesitation, I dare to type exactly what I feel: I wish I was there, too. I can’t wait to hear you play them. And those violins, while amazing, are not Stradivariuses. They will be worth more once you play them. But then, so is any violin, in my opinion.

Refusing to worry about a reply I don’t expect, not in the middle of his meeting, I set my phone down and take another bite of my pasta. I’m just about to make that two more bites when another message dings. I hit the button and bring another message from Kace into view, another photo, but this one has me gasping and sitting up straighter. This one is a photo of an extremely rare Stradivarius violin.

I don’t even think about what I’m doing. I dial Kace. He answers on the first ring. “Why did I know you’d call before I could call you?”

“Is that the 1685 Le Marquis Doria?” I sound breathless but I can’t help it. I know this violin. My father and I talked about this violin right before he disappeared.

“Long lost and pined for,” he confirms. “Yes, and color me impressed you knew that from one photo.”

“It’s a certain design in the wood,” I say quickly. “Is it right there with you? My God, Kace.”

“It isn’t. My donor said the photo was sent to him with a promise it would soon be auctioned off. Starting bid of ten million.”

I think of the formula, of our belief that it’s hidden inside one of the long-lost instruments. Could it be this instrument? Did my father talk about this one for a reason beyond admiration? A hint of unease overtakes me at the timing of its appearance but I focus on one thing: a mission I need to fulfill.

“Can we see it?”

“I knew you’d want to. I want to. I’m working on it, baby. I promise.”

“Kace,” I hesitate, but only a moment. “There are reasons—there’s—” My throat goes dry. “If I could see it, just see it, I would be so very grateful.”

“I know how important each of the Stradivarius instruments are to you. I’ll make it happen, but I have to go. I should be done in a couple of hours, maybe sooner. You okay?”

“Yes. Good. I’m good. I’m—so many things right now after that photo, actually. I can’t wait to hear about everything.”

“And I can’t wait to tell you. Holy hell, I’ll say it again. What are you doing to me, woman?” He doesn’t give me time to reply. “See you soon, baby.” He disconnects and I shove away my food. Kace, the violin, Gio—it’s a mix of wonderful and scary that I can hardly manage to process. Could the Marquis really be on the grid again? And if so, why now?

My cellphone rings and I grab it to find Crystal’s number on the caller ID. I take a deep breath and shove aside thoughts of the violin to offer a friendly greeting. “Hey, Crystal.”