Page 10 of Cruel Delights
“Come with me.” His arm comes around my back. It doesn’t touch me, but hovers close, meant to signal I’m supposed to walk with him.
I do, curious about what he wants. Jael’s words echo back to me.
Nobody gives a fuck about you playing the piano like some famous dead guy. All the talent in the world doesn’t mean squat unless you’ve got the right connections? Get it?
What if there are connections at this party? What if I can impress someone with my skills and parlay that into a new opportunity?
The party is filled with sickeningly wealthy people. One of them has to have some kind of hookup.
If the party needs someone to play piano, I can do that. I’m still slightly high, but I’llforcemyself to sober up.
3Lyra
Biting Down - Lorde
The man leads me up a wide staircase that gradually curves into an S shape. We come up on the next floor and I gasp at the Steinway in the open parlor. It’s arranged in the center, between some tasteful accent chairs and artwork.
Not just any Steinway. It’s the Red Parlor Grand Piano. Priced at over a million dollars. Made of more than thirty different types of wood.
It’s like seeing Beyoncé in person. I’m so enamored I don’t notice the man mentioning something about waiting there.
But I gladly do. I edge closer to the beautiful piano with its carved inlays and sleek polish and my mouth almost waters. What I wouldn’t give to sit on this bench for five minutes and play…
Maybe I will. Maybe that’s what they brought me up here for.
In the distant background, more chatter buzzes in the air. More party-guests wander down the hall. In my periphery, a handful of men in Venetian masks and long cloaks stride by.
I only have eyes for Red.
If I’m going to play, I need to be on my best behavior. I need to bring my A-game. Digging around in my wristlet, I pop my next dose of meds. The horse pill catches in my throat, but I swallow a few more times and force it down.
The last thing I need is for my health issues to mess up this opportunity.
“Who do we have here?”
The voice is unfamiliar. Female. Shrill, with a side dose of patronization.
I look up to a woman swaying toward me, wearing a sneer on her pale face and a deep-plunging, emerald dress on her svelte frame. She almost looks like someone from an era gone by, like she’s time-traveled to the present just to be a snobby bitch.
And Iknowshe’s a snobby bitch even at a glance.
Her blood-red lips stretch to reveal teeth, her eyes that are the same color of her dress rake over me. “You? You’re who they’ve gotten to fill in?”
My brows squish together, and I’m about to answer her when I notice she’s not alone. There’s a man several feet behind her. He stands still and stares, his hands in his tuxedo pockets, giving no indication either way if he knows her or just happened by.
He’s what most would call tall, dark and handsome. Handsome, because even despite the steel mask he wears covering half his face, it’s clear his features are perfectly symmetrical. Between his strong jaw, straight nose and sharp cheekbones, he must have no short supply of women after him.
Tall, because he’s several inches past six feet. His stature reads as masculine and powerful. The type that’s commanding and confident and allows him to dominate any space with his size.
Dark, because his eyes might be darker than my own—two deep pools where no emotion, no spark lives. His hair is no less dark—the scruff decorating his angular jawline reveals he didn’t bother shaving, and the rest of his hair frames his face in earthy brown locks pushed back by his ears. It’s been months since his last cut.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he threw on a tuxedo last minute and didn’t give a damn about looking as debonair as everyone else.
Yet, that’s what makes him look so fine. The effortlessness of his appearance. He’s like a male model who wandered into a masquerade and slipped on a steel-molded mask in disguise.
But I see right through him—he’s fine as hell, and judging by his cold indifference, heknowsit.
My attention is forced back to the woman when she speaks. “Where’d they drudge you up from? Some slum in the inner city? Or was it Northam?”