Violette's Vibrato [Golden Dolphin 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  * * * *

  After the Saturday evening performance in the Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Violette left the concert hall through the performers’ entrance and headed for the subway. Her precious violin, which was lovingly called “Colleen” in the family, was snugly nestled in the custom-made carbon fiber case that was securely handcuffed to her right wrist by a highly polished, thin but sturdy steel chain. She often laughed when she compared herself to the diamond couriers who could be seen on the streets of the Diamond District with briefcases cuffed to their wrists. In the O’Reilly family, the value of Colleen was far above diamonds.

  Colleen had been crafted by Violette’s great-grandfather, Patrick O’Reilly, a master violin maker, in Dublin, Ireland. She had narrowly missed being lost aboard the Titanic on April 12, 1912. Paddy had felt that the resin was not sufficiently cured and that the violin was not ready to leave his custody. He had cancelled his reservations to travel to New York to deliver Colleen to the virtuoso violinist for whom she had been created. After his narrow brush with probable death aboard the Titanic, Paddy had refused to deliver the violin, and it had been treasured in the family for over one hundred years. Violette’s grandfather and father, who were both very fine fiddlers but never concert quality violinists, had followed in Paddy’s footsteps and were also master instrument makers. Their talent was the creation of fabulous violins, and they had Paddy’s secret recipe for the resin that gave their instruments their haunting sound. Violette had been the first member of the family to merit having custody of the legendary violin as a classical concert performer. Colleen had a sound so rich and sweet that just listening to Violette playing scales could bring a person to tears. It was widely believed that Colleen’s exquisite sound rivaled even the famed Stradivarius violins created by the master craftsmen, Antonio Stradivari and Giovanni Battista Guadagnini and their contemporaries in Cremona, Italy, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The survivors of those legendary instruments were currently valued in the millions of dollars.

  As Violette descended the steep steps of the IRT Broadway-Seventh Avenue subway entrance to catch the train at 66th Street, she felt a strong bump against the small of her back. Before she could cry out, she felt herself tumbling down the stairs, and she instinctively clutched Colleen to her chest as she fell. She hit her head on the stairs and blacked out. When she opened her eyes several minutes later, she was surrounded by people trying to help her. Bystanders had called the paramedics, and she was cautioned to lie still. Whoever said New Yorkers were uncaring and cold hadn’t been in the 66th Street Subway Station. Naturally, she was embarrassed as she struggled to sit up. The pain in her right wrist was blinding. Oh, no. Not my wrist. I hope it’s not broken.

  Violette, with Colleen still clutched to her chest, was transported by ambulance to the Emergency Room of St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital. The Emergency Room nurse had unlocked the handcuff to remove Colleen’s case and then had called Nik for her. He had rushed to the hospital to be with her after contacting the best orthopedic surgeon in the city. After Dr. Levine had examined her and she had been X-rayed and had a bone scan, she had been advised that she had a hairline scaphoid fracture of the radius bone in her wrist. He had splinted her wrist, and told her that she would not need a cast and that surgery would not be needed. In about two weeks, she might be able to start some physical therapy to restore flexibility and strength. The possibility that she had a slight concussion was the least of her worries. Her hard Irish head could withstand a little bump, but her wrist was integral to her playing and was her major worry.

  “You are going to need to rest the wrist while it heals. There is really nothing that can be done. The fracture just needs time to heal. You will have to be careful not to jar it, especially at the beginning.” Dr. Levine had been advised that she was a concert violinist and used her wrist extensively when she played.

  “So, I suppose playing the violin is out of the question?” Dr. Levine and Nik both looked at her as though she had lost her mind. “Well, I can see the answer to that question on both your faces. Damn. I’m going to have to cancel a concert as well as some symphony performances. Katya will have to fill in.” Nik had a strained look on his face. “What?”

  “Do you remember what happened? Did you see who pushed you?”

  “Nik, I don’t think anyone pushed me. I think it was just an accident.” She could see by the look on his face that he did not subscribe to that theory. Oh, boy. Here we go.

  “I’ll have my security people talk to the police. I want to see the footage from the surveillance cameras. I won’t be satisfied until I know for sure that it was an accident.”

  “Nik…”

  “Don’t even go there, Vi. If you weren’t already hurt, I would be tempted to paddle your butt. If you had been tucked safely in the back of my limo, this would not have happened. I’ll stop short of saying ‘I told you so,’ but it’s taking a real effort on my part.”

  Dr. Levine interrupted the budding argument. “Ms. O’Reilly, you will have to stay overnight for observation, both for your wrist and the possible concussion. If there are any more problems, the hospital can reach me, and I’ll come back in. Now, get some rest and no more arguing.” He gave them both a stern look. “I’ll see you tomorrow to check on the wrist.”

  * * * *

  Nik followed Violette’s gurney as she was moved to a private room for the night. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her temple. “Close your eyes and rest while you can. The nurses will be waking you up to check your pupils every hour or so. I’ll just sleep in the chair next to the bed.”

  “You can go home to sleep, babe. I’ll be fine.”

  “Not an option, so don’t waste your breath arguing with me. I’m staying. That’s it, sub.” She smiled at him, and he could see her just give in. He knew that she was tired, in some pain, and that she was glad he was there. When he pulled the Dom card, she would usually cave. As much as she argued that she didn’t want to be dominated, she clearly felt safe when he took control of the situation.

  They both spent a restless night with nurses coming in on an hourly basis to shine a light in Violette’s eyes. Nik was glad when six o’clock rolled around. He called his chauffeur to bring them breakfast. Neither of them was up for hospital food. They waited for Dr. Levine to come in and check Violette so she could be released to go home. Nik was determined that she was going to recuperate at his apartment and sent Daniels, the chauffeur, to pick up her yellow tiger cat, Melrose. That would short-circuit at least one argument. At least he hoped so. She could be the most stubborn, argumentative woman he knew, and he loved her—deeply, irrevocably, and without reservation. Sitting up watching her doze while she tossed and turned during the night had made him realize again how much she really meant to him. He was going to look carefully into this “accident” whether she liked it or not. She was much too important to him to take any chances. He just had a bad feeling about the whole situation.

  * * * *

  On leaving the hospital Sunday afternoon Violette had argued to return to her own apartment to no avail, and she had found herself propped up in Nik’s bed overlooking the gorgeous Central Park view. His housekeeper, Mrs. Taylor, was delighted to be able to fuss over her and bring her temping treats.

  “Mrs. T, you are going to spoil me, and I’ll end up as big as a house by the time Nik lets me leave here.”

  “Don’t be silly. If there ever was a time for spoiling, this is it. Just relax and let us take care of everything.”

  In the end Violette had had to give in. She couldn’t fight the two of them. By the end of two weeks, she thought she would lose her mind. Although everyone tried to keep her entertained, she was just not used to sitting around. She missed practice and performing. She found herself cuddling Colleen to her chest wishing she could be running scales or practicing a piece for her next solo concert. She simply was not used to doing nothing. Her wrist felt much better, and she had been back to see D
r. Levine, escorted by Daniels the chauffeur much to her chagrin. Everything was healing well, and he said she could do anything she wanted as long as it did not involve her wrist for a little while longer.

  That evening when Nik came home from the office, he was smiling widely and looked very proud of himself. “I have a surprise.” He put an elegant dark-blue brochure with gold lettering and the embossed outline of a ship down on the breakfast bar where she was watching Mrs. T. prepare dinner.

  “What’s this, Nik? A cruise brochure?”

  “I’ve booked us on a cruise from Miami to Rio for Carnaval. It leaves Miami on February 19th. You might as well recuperate in luxury. Jamie Devereau’s company owns a super yacht that specializes in BDSM cruises. He’s a member of the Le Club facility in New Orleans. I think you may have met him and his wife, Anne, at Le Club Eastside. She’s the manager of the club in Ocala.”

  “Nik, this is luxury right here. What are you talking about?”

  “The Golden Dolphin is a private yacht, newly remodeled, 300 feet long. It has fifteen suites and can take up to thirty-six passengers. The topper is that they have a BDSM dungeon and theme rooms aboard as well as a costume department and all the club amenities. It’s totally private—privacy and anonymity guaranteed. Most everyone aboard will be into BDSM and will have signed a confidentiality agreement. What do you think? According to Dr. Levine, you won’t be ready to return to performing a full schedule for at least six or eight more weeks. You can keep up your physical therapy aboard, and when you’re ready, you can start practicing again.”

  * * * *

  Nik was worried. She didn’t look too impressed with the idea. He had to sidetrack her. Once Violette made up her mind, it was a bitch to change it. Better to keep her from making an outright decision.

  “Mrs. T. will be happy to look after Melrose. Let’s think about it. It will be a blast. Jamie and his wife and maybe some of their friends from Ocala are also taking this cruise. Come on, Vi. Rio, Carnaval. Let’s just go for it.”

  Nik really wanted to get Violette out of town for a while. He and his head of security had met with a lieutenant in the New York City Transit Police and reviewed the surveillance tapes from the subway. It was not completely clear, but Nik was certain in his own mind that someone had deliberately pushed Violette down the subway stairs. The person who had bumped her from behind had his head down with a hoodie pulled up to hide his face. After he had hit her, he had taken off down the steps, jumped the turnstile, and hopped on a train that had been about to leave the station.

  Most normal people, having caused someone to fall accidently, would have stopped to see if that person was all right. This jerk had just bolted. He was unidentifiable. He had not swiped his subway card, so there was no record of who he might have been. Of course, Violette refused to believe anyone would intentionally try to hurt her. Nik was a lot more suspicious by nature. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He had some ideas, but he knew Violette would never believe him. He had to get proof first. His security team would be working on this problem full speed ahead while they were out of town where he hoped Violette would be safe.

  It had taken some wheedling, cajoling, begging, and outright threatening, but he had finally convinced Violette that the cruise was, indeed, a stellar idea. Once she agreed, she was on board one hundred percent. They went shopping for new resort wear, bathing suits, and all the accessories they would need for the cruise. They were going to board the Golden Dolphin in New York and travel down to Miami for the official start of the cruise on February 19th. The ship would make way to Rio de Janeiro with a minimum of port calls, and then they would spend four days in Rio enjoying the city and Carnaval. After that the ship would make its leisurely way back to Miami, stopping at several South American and Caribbean ports of call.

  Nik was in his element. He was finally able to do something nice for Violette, and he’d have her full attention for twenty-four days. He loved buying her presents, but she was often prickly about accepting gifts from him. He knew that once they got back to New York she would be wrapped up in getting back to work with the symphony and rescheduling her solo concerts. He was hoping he’d have just the right opportunity to pop the question while they were on the trip. He still wasn’t entirely sure she was ready, but he was more than ready.

  Chapter One

  The Port of New York and New Jersey, New York, New York on board the Golden Dolphin, February 15, 2014 – Saturday Afternoon

  Captain Constantine Cortelis stood next to the glass doors to the deck overlooking New York Harbor. The main lobby had been decorated for the occasion and was filled with flowers. He wore his dress uniform and waited patiently as Harper Cameron, the bride, and her attendants came up the semicircular central stairway that bisected the main lobby from their suite on the fourth deck. The Cameron-Court nuptials were the third wedding aboard the Golden Dolphin, and the crew always enjoyed it when their passengers returned to tie the knot. It seemed like a validation of the work they did and was just downright romantic. The plans had been made at warp speed as was usually the case aboard the Dolphin for some reason.

  Harper Cameron looked stunning in a gorgeously simple, white silk Vera Wang bridal gown with a short train. The low-cut bodice was sprinkled with crystals and seed pearls, and the skirt was close fitting and outlined her tall, sleek figure. She wore a short veil that hid what he knew was a beautiful face and sky-blue eyes. She carried a bouquet of mixed white and pale-pink orchids.

  Morgan Court, the groom, wore a stark black tuxedo with a pin-tucked snow-white shirt, bow tie, and cummerbund. Both had black hair, and they made a stunning couple. Morgan’s piercing black eyes carefully surveyed his bride-to-be. Con knew he was looking for signs of nerves, but Harper appeared to be totally calm and collected. Harper and Morgan had gone through a trying time on their cruise to Montréal aboard the Dolphin. Their quest to conquer Harper’s demons had been intense for both of them. He was glad they had succeeded despite the upset that had been caused by Harmon Burke, the stowaway reporter who had caused so many problems. Con was amazed to see that Harmon was among the guests—sans camera of course. Morgan Court was famous for his ability to avoid the limelight, although Con was sure private photos would be taken of the ceremony. It would be a shame to miss having photos of a bride as beautiful and happy as Harper. The lobby was crowded with guests including Morgan’s sister, Melanie Stephens, and her family. Morgan’s twin nieces, Allie and Addie, were the flower girls and looked like adorable “trouble on wheels” in their matching pink lace dresses. It was time to start the ceremony.

  * * * *

  While everyone’s attention was centered on the wedding taking place on the top deck, the newest steward, Baylee Baxter, was smuggling her identical twin, Barbee Baxter, aboard the Golden Dolphin. The sisters were sandwiched together as they walked in lock step directly to Baylee’s cabin on the crew deck, slipped inside, and secured the door. They had practiced the move until they got it perfect. They gave a huge sigh of relief. Since they only had the one dark-blue wristband that contained Baylee’s GPS chip and personal identification, they had to come aboard squashed together in order to avoid an alarm from the newly upgraded security system.

  “We made it, Barb. I wasn’t sure it would work, but as usual, you were right.”

  “Bay, this is going to be a piece of cake. While you’re out and about in full view of the passengers and crew, I’ll be checking out the cabins for loot.”

  “My job is to be visible and to check out the passengers’ jewelry. I’ll try to weed out the fakes, although that gets harder all the time with the high quality of CZ jewelry available nowadays.”

  “Bay, you always know the good stuff. Ha! Sometimes it’s just a little less shiny than the CZ pieces.”

  “I’m going to keep my eye out to see if I can score another blue wristband for you—one without an activated GPS chip. That way you will look the same, but the bridge won’t be able to track your movements.”

&nbs
p; “An extra wristband would certainly make things easier.”

  Baylee had been told about the stowaway who had caused so much trouble on the cruise to Montréal, and she and Barbee had thought long and hard on how to trick the system. The fortuitous last-minute illness of one of the ship’s stewards had provided Baylee the opportunity to sign on to crew the Miami to Rio de Janeiro cruise for the pre-Lenten Carnaval celebration. All of her Merchant Marine safety and seafarer ratings and TWIC credentials were up to date and in order, so signing on had been a breeze. Their other plan had been for one of them to come aboard as a single passenger, but that would have been the less preferable option.

  The Baxter sisters were notorious jewel thieves and had been responsible for some of the most high-profile heists to take place in the United States and Europe in the last several years. They both had spotless records, and neither had ever even been detained as a person of interest in regard to their many escapades. Their last attempt to enter a mansion in South Hampton had failed, and they had had a near miss. The mansion’s owner had returned early with a headache from an evening event at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the city, and they had nearly been caught. They’d had to scramble out a back door without the goods—a rare event for them. Maybe now would be a good time to get out of Dodge. At any rate, they were actually looking forward to the relaxed atmosphere aboard the Golden Dolphin. It would be like a vacation compared to some of their capers. Stealing jewels from rich people who could well afford the loss and were probably heavily insured anyway hardly seemed like a crime at all. They would have a master key card and an invitation into the super luxurious passenger cabins while the guests were out and about enjoying the ship and their shore excursions.