She was settling.
“It’s like I’m either twelve or I’m thirty. I just kind of want to be me, you know?”
“We’re going to fix that,” Devlin promised her. I could see out of the corner of my eye how that soft assurance gave my father pause.
Was Devlin right? Was Father playing us so that we’d fight against each other?
I quietly took notes throughout the rest of the dinner.
After dessert was served, Margot turned to Devlin. “Charles tells me that you’re a classically trained pianist.” Devlin nodded and Margot grinned. “Hettie would be so proud.”
Devlin’s eyebrow lifted. “Hettie?”
“My grandmother,” Father answered. “Henrietta Cabot, the powerful matriarch of our family and our company. She played the piano as well, having been taught by her own grandmother on a vintage piano she inherited when she was born. It has passed down to every Cabot since her death, though thus far none of us have the talent or desire to learn how to play.”
Margot nodded. “It has been sitting, untouched, in the den since 1961, when Hettie passed.”
“That’s a shame,” Devlin stated. “A beautiful instrument was never built to stand silent.” His eyes briefly met mine, but I said nothing.
“Then perhaps we’ll take some brandy in the den, so that Devlin might play for us,” Father decided. Gretchen nodded.
We all entered the spacious, warm den with high beamed ceiling and enormous windows on every outside wall. The furniture was old and comfortable, but classically stylish. Back when these pieces were made, quality trumped quantity, so each and every piece had been painstakingly designed to stand the test of time. There was a large white sofa, a smaller navy blue love seat and various chairs printed with white and blue patterns.
And in the corner was Great Grandmother Hettie’s grand piano, made of rosewood that had been carved with ornate detail. It had been built in the late 1800s and was worth six figures, which was the main reason why I had never been encouraged to learn how to play, despite the fact that Great Grandmother Hettie had bequeathed that it would always be tuned every single year for as long as the family owned it, maintaining care in anticipation of its use.
I could see the wonder wash over Devlin’s face as he approached it. It was truly magnificent for those of us who weren’t musically inclined. I could only how much someone who actually spoke its language would appreciate it. He lovingly trailed his fingers along the lid and the fall board as he rounded the table to sit at the bench. He revealed the keys slowly, like a lover, before he brushed his hand ever so lightly upon them. I shivered a bit, because I knew exactly how it felt to be in that piano’s place.
He closed his eyes as he summoned whatever piece of music he could dig out of his soul, and began to play a piece I didn’t recognize. It started slowly, almost haltingly, increasing the tempo almost frantically as he moved through the music, his eyes closed, his head tilted to one side, with a slight grimace on his face as his deft fingers chased one note after the other across the keys.
I stole a glance at my family, all of whom, as well as Caz and Oliver, stared in shock as my husband expertly played the piano, pounding out a song of intense urgency and longing. In those notes I heard the tortured, silent screams of a lonely soul.
Devlin embodied this character, demonstrating a range of emotion through the twelve-minute masterpiece. One moment he pounded the keys in a rage, the next he caressed them softly, like a whisper, leaning closely towards the keyboard as if he strained to hear each and every echo. Everyone present was captivated by his dynamic performance. I sat a little straighter as well, proud to call this incredibly talented man my husband.
Mine.
I even spotted Gretch wipe a tear towards the end, overwhelmed by the stirring performance. She was the first to lead the applause when he was done. Father was the second, much to my surprise. “That was exceptional, Devlin,” he complimented, which was warm praise for the likes of my father. “I didn’t recognize the piece. Which was it?”
Devlin covered the keys. “Schumann’s Fantasie in C,” he told them as he rose from the piano and joined me on one of the smaller sofas. I saw Gretchen beam with pride, having recognized the German composer.
“Truly remarkable,” Father repeated. “Have you ever given serious thought about playing professionally?”
“A long time ago,” Devlin admitted. “Like many foolish dreamers, I had to grow up and become more practical.”
Father nodded. He understood that. “Do you plan to teach your children to play?”
“Absolutely,” Devlin answered at once. “I was in front of a piano from the time I was three. Those were some of the best years of my childhood.”
“A child should have a passion,” Father agreed with a nod. “Sadly, CC never really demonstrated a passion for anything specific.”
My eyebrow arched as I stared at my father. Is that what he really thought? “I designed my own clothes in high school, Dad.”
“That’s not the same, Coralie. That was a hobby. A passion is something you cannot dismiss simply when it proves inconvenient. Passion demands discipline.” He turned back to Devlin. “Her mother was a competitive tennis player and an artist, even when she wasn’t particularly skilled at either one. They still brought her such joy that I had hoped she could pass it along to our children. But neither of those things appealed to CC.”
I tried not to let the steam escape my ears like a pressure valve, but my blood pressure spiked toward the danger zone. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Father had already moved on to another topic.
“Do you have any other creative people in your family?”
I turned to Dev, too. This was the perfect opening to tell Dad about Darcy. Then maybe we could drop this farce of a makeover routine a week early.
“My mother encouraged all of us to be creative in our own ways,” Devlin dodged instead. He turned to Gretch, indicating for a refill on his brandy.
“Smart woman,” Father nodded. Devlin said nothing. I touched his hand and his intense gaze met mine.
“Have you ever taught anyone to play the piano?” Aubrey asked.
“A few,” Devlin answered, which surprised me.
“Perhaps you could teach me,” Aubrey suggested. “Seems a waste of a good piano to just let it sit here day after day in silence, especially when you can make it sound like that.”
He grinned. “Thank you,” he said graciously. “And I would love to, provided it fits into our schedule,” he added, glancing back at Father, who nodded.
I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t likewise checked with his wife. So much for being Priority #1.
“There is always time for art,” Father declared. I could tell by the way he said it that he was once again mourning my mother, the true artist and visionary of our family, much like Great Grandma Hettie before her.
“Audrey, really. You should ask CC how she feels about that,” Margot mused in that self-contented purr of hers. “It’s her husband you would be stealing away for hours on end after all.”
“That’s not a problem if she’s taking lessons herself,” Caz offered with a smile. “I can teach CC tennis lessons at the club. Everyone learns something new.” I didn’t like the way he flashed that smile at me, and I was pretty sure my new husband wouldn’t like it either.
I shook my head. “Sorry. No time for anything like that.”
Father chortled. “See?” he said to Devlin, as if to make his point that I had no passion, nor desire to discover one. I glared at him before turning back to Caz. “On second hand, it might be fun to take up a new hobby,” I said, hitting the word ‘hobby’ a little harder than the rest while I looked pointedly at my dad.
I felt Devlin bristle beside me. I knew he wouldn’t be pleased. But if he wasn’t going to defend me, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to control me either. Devlin curled his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close against his strong chest. “We’ll just
have to see when we could fit it in,” he told Caz with a similar pointed stare.
Caz didn’t waver. Instead he stood up, pulled his wallet from his back pocket and withdrew a card. He walked towards me and handed it to me, all the while looking at Devlin, almost daring him to intervene. “Let me know as soon as you can,” he finally told me as he flashed a grin. “I book up fast.”
I watched Devlin’s jaw clench out of the corner of my eye. I simply nodded at Caz and put his card inside my purse. Caz lingered only a second longer than that before he returned to Margot across the room.
Fortunately for me, Devlin opted to leave shortly after. And because he used a full day of hiking the next day as his excuse why we needed to leave early, Father allowed it.
Devlin was quiet as we walked out to the car. He said nothing as he held the passenger side door open for me to get inside, closing it with a soft click behind me. I watched him walk around to the driver’s side, his jaw still locked with effort to hold it together.
I knew everything was going to fall apart soon, I just wasn’t sure when. Surely he’d tear into me because I had accepted Caz’s card, but he had to know I only did it to shut up Father. I had no interest in taking tennis lessons, particularly from one of Margot’s current playthings.
I could barely stand to have dinner around one as it was.
Devlin slammed his car door softly behind him before he silently fastened his seat belt. He turned the key and put the car into drive, easily navigating the rear exit beyond the garages. Finally, when we were far enough away from the house, I tried to mitigate the damage.
“You know I’d never take lessons from Margot’s slimy boy toy, right?”
“You’re goddamned right you’re not. You’re never to talk to that man again.” His voice was laced with hostility, and his eyes flashed with anger as he turned to face me. “Do you understand me, Coralie?”
My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. “So let me get this straight. You can train some enchantress for her Ironman triathlon, and possibly my beautiful niece on the piano, but I’m never to do anything with another man ever again?”
“Not that man,” he growled.
“Why not?”
“Coralie,” he started in a foreboding voice, but I was over it. He was the one being unfair and unreasonable. He expected me to take it on the chin every time he interacted with some woman, but I couldn’t even take fucking tennis lessons?
“I’ll take them if I want to take them,” I informed him coolly.
“Coralie,” he repeated, his jaw clenched tight.
“You want me to trust you? Then trust me. I would never betray you, Devlin. And you know that.”
He was silent for a moment before he finally sighed. “It’s not you I don’t trust.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Caz Bixby isn’t just some fitness instructor or sports trainer,” he informed me in a resigned monotone.
My gut tightened. “How do you know that?”
“I know everything about Caz Bixby,” Devlin finally admitted. “He’s a gigolo, Coralie. Just like me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I didn’t speak for a full minute after Devlin’s shocking confession. I couldn’t process it at first. Aunt Margot hired men for sex? The entire concept was unthinkable. She was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, next to my mother and Lucy anyway. Why on earth would she hire some gigolo?
Why on earth had I?
Worse, Caz clearly knew I had hired an escort of my own, hence why he toyed with both of us with that silly invitation to learn tennis. “Shit,” I uttered at last.
“To say the least,” Dev muttered.
“What do you think he wants?” I asked.
Devlin just shook his head. “I have no idea. We weren’t exactly what you could call close. We knew each other. We worked several of the same venues and parties, the same crowds. The same women,” he admitted, though he seemed quite reluctant to do so. It just proved how serious our situation was. He wouldn’t have shared this with me if he wasn’t concerned. “He’s cocky, one of the reasons I never wanted to be around him. He knew how to work people. A true hustler in every sense of the word. Always chasing after the big payoff with little risk or work. No doubt he will make a play for some money to keep his silence.”
“Then we pay it,” I decided at once.
“No, we don’t,” Devlin corrected.
“It’s not worth blowing the progress we’ve made, Dev. We’ve got the extra money. If we can just pay him to go away…,” I started, but Devlin quickly interrupted.
“You pay him to go away and you’ll never be rid of him. He’s like a roach, Coralie. There’s only one way to deal with a roach. You stomp him the fuck out.”
Dread gnawed at my tummy. “What does that mean?”
His eyes met mine. “It means I’m not going to let some dime-store punk wreck my happily ever after, that’s what it means.” He leaned back against the seat. “I’m not the only one with secrets.”
“Is there any point in my asking?” I said.
He sighed. “Is it impossible for you to trust me, Coralie?”
“Is it impossible for you to trust me?” I shot back.
“This is not like your world,” he dodged again. “These people…,” he started, but then trailed off. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he finally said in a soft voice that tugged my heartstrings despite myself.
“Then let me in,” I implored, just as softly. “The only thing that hurts is when you shut me out. I trusted you enough to jump right into your world. All I want is to be a part of it. I love you, Dev.”
The words lingered in the dark car for long moments afterwards. With another sigh, he grabbed my hand in his and kissed it gently. “You make me feel like I can do anything when you say that.”
“You can do anything. We can do anything,” I amended. “We can have it all.”
He gripped my hand in his. “We already have it all. I have you. That’s all I need.”
It warmed my heart to hear him say it. It was a relief to hear him say it. After all that we’d gone through that week, it made little sense to keep punishing each other. He needed a reminder that I was his wife. And he could trust me. I unfastened my seat belt and leaned across the console, unbuttoning his trousers as I buried my face in his spicy neck. He groaned as he leaned into me. “Coralie,” he moaned softly.
“Shh,” I whispered against his ear. “Trust me.” I coaxed his erection with one persistent hand as I nuzzled his neck, taking possessive nips out of his skin. He was mine and I could claim him that way. He responded by scooting down into the bucket seat of my car, to give me greater access to his hardening shaft. It rose to meet my hand. After a week apart, I supposed little Devvy was happy to see me too. I found myself unable to resist kissing my way down along his neck, across his chest until my head was completely in his lap.
He gasped as I released him from his binding underwear. The cool air from our open moon roof rushed against us. I grinned at him. “Take the long way home.”
We were already up in the hills, which made it a lot easier to obey my request. I felt him tremble beneath me as his free hand clutched a handful of my hair when I slid my mouth down on him, luxuriating over each silky inch of flesh. I was in total control and he was at my mercy.
He didn’t make it very far before he finally pulled into a darkened dead end street. He turned off the lights of the car before he slid his seat back as far as it would go. He grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap, where his engorged cock throbbed for me.
I throbbed for him too. I undressed quickly, just enough to end our torturous days apart. We watched out of our tinted windows for any movement around the car. Oddly the thought of being caught only made it that much hotter. He shoved himself up inside of me, fast and hard. I gasped out loud but bit back any scream. The moon roof was still open, after all, and it was a sleepy little neighborhood.
Devl
in, though, shook his head. “Don’t you dare hold back now, Mrs. Masters,” he murmured as he watched my face while I rode him. “You held back from me all week. Not anymore,” he whispered against my skin, sending shock waves throughout my entire body. He angled himself just an inch to the right and slammed up inside of me, hitting that one spot that made my eyes roll back in my head. I gasped louder, but he wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged my head back, forcing me to look at him. “Let them hear you scream while I fuck you,” he said before he kissed me hard.
I held out as long as it took him to release one of my breasts for his hungry mouth. By the time he had my hardened nipple between his teeth, I was certain I’d wake up the entire block. He arched up inside me, his fingers biting into both of my ass cheeks as he slammed me down on top of him over and over again, until I was coming hard and screaming even harder.
His cries mixed with mine as he caught the tail of my climatic comet and flew into the stratosphere with me. He held me down on top of him as he released himself, pulsating inside of me like another heart beating. I reached for a brief kiss before I untangled myself from his grip. Lights had turned on at the nearby house, so we had to compose ourselves quickly and head on down the street before anyone came out to see what caused all the ruckus.
When we got home he carried me to our bedroom, where we spent the rest of the evening making up for lost time. Hours later, as the witching hour descended on the City of Angels, we collapsed together in a sweaty, exhausted heap, sore but happy. He gathered me into his arms and held me tight. “Never make me wait again,” he growled against my ear.
If only he knew that I couldn’t make that promise, simply because he couldn’t promise anything to me. He would still keep much of his life secret from me, and that was the thing in between us. “Never give me a reason,” was all I could say in response.
He pulled away just a bit to stare down into my face. Finally his hand caressed my cheek. “You know that song I played tonight?” I nodded. “It was written by a man crazy in love with a young girl he couldn’t have, because her father, and his teacher, forbade their romance. So he composed music for her to play on the piano, a special message to express the longing he had to be with the one he loved. It drove him crazy,” he said softly. “Can you imagine what it would be like, to be separated from the one you love? To be told you can’t be together?” Again I nodded, but this time a little slower. The thought was too depressing to entertain.
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