Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Lev’s expression darkens. “I’d kill him if he did that. You fucking know I would.”
“But you see my point, right? Adriano’s not such a bad guy, but I want to marry someone better than that.”
Alex’s face bursts into my mind. Someone better. Someone good. But then it fades away, because that isn’t happening.
“I know, I’m just trying to say something—“ He stops, looking at a total loss, and I suddenly feel bad for him. Lev’s doing his best just like everyone else and it isn’t his fault that I’m in this situation.
“You really want to do something for me?”
“Seriously, anything, except for your hair.”
“Buy me some time. Let me play piano for ten minutes. It’ll help calm me down, and then I’ll be able to get through today.”
He glances at the hall. “I don’t know. Dad’s got his people all over the place—“
I grab Lev’s arm, my fingers digging in. “Please.”
He looks back at me, frowning, and slowly nods. “Yeah, alright. Stay here. I’ll clear a path.”
My brother leaves and I’m alone again. I turn back to the mirror and watch myself, wondering if playing really will center me again. I doubt it, but right now I’m desperate and willing to try anything to help me get through this afternoon.
This shouldn’t be happening. I went to Alex thinking he could find a way out for me. I went there thinking he’d want to find a way out. But the second I started pacing around in front of his building, I knew exactly what he was going to say and how stupid I was for even showing up. There was no way he could really help, not without starting an actual war, and nobody in their right mind would ever do that.
Not for me, anyway.
When Lev comes back, he makes a shushing motion and takes me downstairs. There are a couple guards lingering in the hall, and they both nod at him and disperse once I come into view.
“Ten minutes,” he says, tapping his watch. “Then it’s back upstairs and you’re going to finish getting ready. Can you promise?”
“I promise.” I pause before ducking into the living room and give him a tight hug. He seems startled, since we’re not really an affectionate family like that, but he hugs me back. “Ten minutes,” I repeat and hurry in.
The piano feels good at least. I spread my skirt around me and it’s like sitting in a snowstorm. I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m back in my Paris apartment lost in a steady storm of loneliness and depression, and I start to play. The notes come out slow at first as I build up speed, running through the songs I wrote to help describe how I was feeling.
The music helps. I always does. Especially these songs. It’s like no matter how bad things get, if I can express what’s happening inside of me through the music then I can blunt the worst of my pain. I plan and play, shoulders hunched, falling in deep into the music and forgetting about what’s happening outside, about my father and my future husband, about Bianca and the Marino Famiglia, about the wedding and the baby inside of me, and about Alex. I push it all away and I dive into the music.
I lose track of time. I lose track of myself. For a while I’m just a girl playing piano in a tiny little apartment while rain patters on the eaves outside her window. But then the door opens behind me and I shake my head.
“I’m not done,” I say, feeling desperate. Has ten minutes really gone past already?
“Natalya.”
I stop playing. His voice echoes through my head, and maybe I really have finally lost my mind. I turn, expecting Lev.
Alexander’s staring at me.
He’s wearing a tuxedo. It clings to his muscular body like he was born to wear it. The black makes his eyes seem even darker, and his hair is slicked back in a handsome wave.
I’ve never seen him look so good before in my life, and the expression in his eye is pure, hardened determination.
“Go away,” I tell him and turn back to the piano.
I start to play again. Because maybe I can drown him out and he won’t exist anymore.
But Alex walks over and sits on the bench beside me. His thigh presses against mine, and I want to hit him, I want to shove him, I want to scream in his face.
Why would he come here right now? When he knows there’s nothing we can do about this? I’m marrying someone else even though I’m pregnant with his baby, and he made it clear last night that he doesn’t care enough to stop me.
“I can’t do this,” he says quietly.
My playing falters. I don’t look at him. If I do, I’m going to lose myself, and I can’t risk it.