Pervade London

by Fewings, Vanessa

  “Forget something?” asked Penn-Rhodes.

  I shook my head, trying to push the trepidation away. My heels clicked along the polished floor as we headed toward the sound of musical notes emanating from a room. I heard the erratic plucking of violin strings and the chatter of excitable students.

  Ignoring a glare from Salme, I found a spot in the private cabin and turned my back on her.

  I flipped open my case and eased out my Strad, then began the methodical process of drowning out the noises in the room so I could concentrate on fine-tuning my violin.

  The fine hairs on my nape prickled when I saw Penn-Rhodes move from student to student handing out nametags. He handed me one. Reluctantly, I stuck it to my dress.

  With a dry mouth, I focused on a string that wouldn’t give. It was too new. Too perfect. Too resistant to my trembling fingers.

  Salme appeared at my side. “What did you do?”

  Her dress was bright red like her lipstick. I noticed that she’d overdone her rouge and eye shadow. My eyeballs began to burn as her obnoxious perfume singed my retinas.

  “You have no right.”

  I blinked past the sting. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Penn-Rhodes chose you.”

  The heat in the cabin intensified.

  “You’re supposed to play the second set.” She glanced at my violin. “Hope they brought their earplugs along.”

  That would mean I’d be front and center.

  I suddenly needed air…

  I rose abruptly with my violin and swept past Salme, retracing my steps up the winding staircase until I made it to the upper deck. Clutching my violin and bow as though a gust from the Thames could steal them away, I leaned my body gratefully against the balustrade and drew in great gulps of air, its scent tinged by river water.

  The memory of my time with James and Xavier weighed heavily on my spirit. So many thoughts swirling through my mind made it hard to think straight. There were other orchestras, other opportunities, and, after all, James had offered to help with my career. Turning him down meant I would lose him.

  My pride had set me up for a fall.

  I stared out over the rippling water without really seeing it. I knew that both worlds contradicted each other. Xavier was too precious with his rare gift. James too powerful to be compromised.

  Boarding this yacht had sealed my fate.

  Love would no longer be mine to cherish.

  It was over.

  All this time I’d believed it was them who held power over my future. A sob wracked my body at the realization that I’d thrown away the greatest love I’d ever have.

  A waft of delicate perfume took me back in time. In a daze, I followed the delicate fragrance around the corner. Diana Lucia Zane was leaning casually against the railing, staring out at the river bank.

  I approached her hesitantly.

  She smiled when she saw my violin. “I hear you’re to play after me, Bella?”

  “Yes,” was all I managed.

  She’d hardly changed from when I’d watched her as an eager child in the front seat of a concert hall. I noticed that the fine lines around her eyes only brightened her smile. She was still just as glamorous and beautiful as I remembered.

  “I met you once,” I whispered. “When I was a child.”

  Her lips quirked, her expression kind.

  “You were so…perfect.”

  Her smile turned sad.

  Consumed with awe I said, “You told me I have the hands of a violinist. It’s why I play.” I held up my Strad.

  “Darling girl.”

  “You changed my life, Signora Zane.”

  She gave me a concerned look. “You must leave. Right now. Get off this yacht.”

  “But…” I glanced back to see my fellow students pouring out of the stairwell door and trailing over to the other side of the boat.

  Diana reached up to trace a delicate finger along my jaw. “Bellissimo.”

  She entranced me with the way her delicate fingers first traced the strap of my dress, that same hand capable of so much profoundness when she played, and then glided to my chest, landing on my nametag. She ripped it off.

  Wide-eyed and full of confusion, I watched Diana stroll grandly away as though she’d not just spoken those ominous words of warning, her chiffon dress billowing around her in the breeze like an exotic sea creature.

  I saw the last student exit and trail around the corner. My heart began to pound against my chest as stage fright devoured me, causing my hands to shake so much I didn’t believe I could play.

  Suddenly I felt the boards beneath me quake, and my terror intensified when the vessel began to move.

  The yacht was heading down the Thames.

  My throat constricted as I watched the city’s landmarks passing by, Diana’s haunting words replaying in my mind as we glided beneath London Bridge’s towering metal structure.

  I took deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. With trembling fingers, I touched the place where my nametag had been. I knew Diana’s actions had nothing to do with jealousy. Somehow, she knew certain people here tonight shouldn’t see my name.

  Penn-Rhodes signaled for me to follow him. The time had come to step onto the stage and perform. Reluctantly, I hurried around the corner and stopped abruptly when I saw Patrick Woo standing in front of the raised platform.

  Just breathe…

  I’d played for him once before. No, it had been twice, since James had somehow arranged for me to have a second chance to impress the guardians of the orchestra.

  Why did Diana want me off this yacht?

  The seats quickly filled with guests as we took our places on the stage. I scanned the many faces. A line of dignitaries sat in the front row. Peramivir, the Russian Ambassador, sat amongst them, and beside him, a burly man with a grumpy face and thinning hair…Ivor Mikhail.

  I tore my gaze away, recalling James’ visceral response in the Park Room Restaurant when he’d heard the man’s name. Remembering his pained expression caused dread to shudder through me. I’d felt compelled to do research on Mikhail sooner rather than later, because I’d never seen Ballad look so tortured before.

  Diana took her place before us.

  In a daze, I realized my feet were resting upon the same stage as hers. My beloved idol was mere feet away and playing Mendelssohn’s “Violin Concerto in E Minor.” These lowly students bathed her in grandeur as her soul poured forth musical notes from her Mary Portman Guarneri violin. Yet again she reminded everyone why she was hailed as an iconic star. She moved elegantly, playing with the ease of a world-famous violinist.

  Afterward, there came the thunderous quake of awed applause.

  Penn-Rhodes signaled it was my turn.

  I, Emily Rampling, was to follow the greatest violinist of the twenty-first century. My talent would pale.

  With a kind nod of support from Diana, I hurried forward, raising my violin and bringing up my bow, positioning my chin rest.

  Brahms’ “Violin Sonata No. 3” sang from my Stradivarius as my heart chased after each note, my body moving with the music, my soul cracking into a thousand shards of misery. The melancholy piece had been written to honor the creator’s forbidden and unrealized love. Ignoring the audience, and the many faces focused on me, I played with every fiber of my being. I had once desired to perform in public, but now I struggled to keep control of my confused emotions and self-consciousness.

  I wasn’t meant to be here.

  I’d stolen this moment that was never destined to be mine. This realization cried through my strings to convey what I was incapable of saying. Each note, each draw of my bow was a plea for forgiveness.

  Pulling my love for Xavier out of the ether, I played for him, recalling the first time we’d met in the Underground…the way he’d bravely chased after my violin to rescue it. The fact he’d given me this one in its place was as astonishing as it was profound. He and James had gifted me with a beautiful
home. In return, I’d betrayed their trust and lied to them.

  A future with the three of us together was never going to happen.

  Destroyed by these thoughts, I let go and gave myself over to the music completely, as only a true lover can.

  Just as James had taught me.

  And then it was over. I stirred from my melancholy, lowering my bow and staring out at the sea of faces looking back at me, and then snapping my gaze over to Penn-Rhodes.

  He gave a nod. “Whatever is ailing your heart, cling to that.”

  The clapping grew louder until there was a standing ovation.

  Awed by their reaction, I managed to smile. Their fervent applause to my performance made my heart sing with joy.

  Exhilaration took hold of me. This was a memory I’d always hold on to.

  The evening progressed with my fellow students showing off their talent and lending their youthful brilliance to this esteemed setting. Diana played once more to end the evening’s recital—again reminding everyone present why she was hailed as the queen of the international stage.

  Afterward, we huddled in the corner congratulating each other on a concert well done. Penn-Rhodes’s tutoring had been honored.

  A hand rested on my shoulder.

  Pivoting, I saw Diana.

  “You play beautifully,” I said breathlessly.

  “Come with me.” She spun around in a cloud of chiffon-filled elegance and strolled toward the staircase. “You’re to play for a VIP, Bella.”

  Glancing back, I realized I had no choice but to follow.

  She led me down the staircase. “You have been summoned.”

  “Who by?” Less than an hour ago she’d warned me to get off this yacht, and now she was leading me into its depths.

  She looked back, offering me a thin smile. “You don’t get to say no.”

  My uncertainty rising, I clutched the neck of my violin, my bow’s strings burning red lines into my palm.

  “You warned me earlier,” I whispered. “Why?’

  “It’s too late now.”

  Oh, God. Could they know about me and James?

  We entered a dark room.

  The rich scent of cigar smoke hung in the air, filling the space of the small cabin. I noticed a spiral of white smoke rising out of the far corner, and the figure of a man who was cloaked in shadows, only the tip of his expensive brogues revealed in the dimness.

  A shudder of cold slithered up my spine as I realized Diana was leaving.

  The door snapped closed behind her.

  “Играй за меня, маленький котенок,” he said, his voice a low whisper.

  “I don’t know what that means,” I admitted, straining to see his face.

  His hand swept towards me, revealing the cigar he held, its smoke snaking closer.

  “Signora Zane said that you want me to play for you?” I wrinkled my nose at the unpleasant scent in the air.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Modern or classic?” I offered.

  His voice sounded like sandpaper when he spoke. “С первого момента, как я встретил тебя, я влюбился в тебя.”

  “Okay, modern it is.” I raised my bow.

  The violin sang out its revolt. “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” seemed like the perfect offering for this mysterious and arrogant asshole. I dragged my bow across the strings to reveal the high notes of this rebellious song, letting him hear proof that I’d sensed his cruelty, his dangerousness, his foreign power. The reckless notes flowed and danced around us.

  Xavier didn’t know I was here.

  Neither did James.

  Nor Penn-Rhodes. Or any of my friends. Only Diana, who had told me to leave.

  I’d ignored her advice—a terrible mistake.

  My only anchor to these dreaded moments was my bow sweeping the strings to express my outrage that this man had demanded I play. I wouldn’t have cared if he was the leader of Russia itself. This talent was mine to give to those worthy of hearing it—not those who demanded or threatened or intimidated.

  This may be the lion’s den, but I was a lioness.

  Afterward, breathing heavily from my physical performance, I glared at him through the smoke.

  I heard the hiss as his cigar was snuffed out.

  Silence fell over the room as the last wisp of smoke faded away. The man uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet.

  My chin lifted in defiance.

  He strolled out of the shadows, taking the few short steps needed to remove my violin and bow and carry them over to the side table where he gently placed them down.

  Oh, God.

  James walked up to me and brushed his fingers through a lock of my hair.

  “You speak Russian?”

  “Russian, Italian, French, Spanish…” He gave a slight shrug, as though these were just a few.

  Somewhere in the far reaches of my mind I remembered Xavier telling me this. It had been in that castle, where James had threatened my life and forbidden me to leave.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as his palm cupped my cheek.

  “You can’t help but defy me,” he said darkly.

  “Patrick Woo is here and he’s—”

  “I know who he is.”

  “And Diana Zane.”

  “I pulled you out of danger.”

  His words struck a nerve so deep I couldn’t catch my breath. It was that look of disapproval, the way he towered over me threateningly, and the lingering scent of his rich cigar.

  My heart fluttered in my chest. “If that’s why you pulled me in here, then what’s the reason you made me play?”

  “Quite frankly, it’s often a struggle to resist asking you to play.” He sighed, and then continued. “Our paths have met at a treacherous crossroads. When we return to the deck, don’t even look my way.”

  Those men up there were dangerous…

  “Does Xavier know I’m here?”

  “Yes.”

  Doubt flooded my mind. “Did you change the event from the Russian Embassy?”

  “Anything to secure your safety.”

  “You’re not Russian, are you?”

  James chuckled. “No.”

  Moving in, I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head against his chest.

  “I need you to do exactly as I say. Will you agree to that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re going to return to the cabin where you tuned your violin. Stay there until the yacht docks. Disembark with your friends.”

  I nodded.

  He tipped my chin up. “I’ll be close.”

  “Say that afterwards, it won’t be goodbye.” My heart cracked with his look of uncertainty.

  “We’ll talk.”

  “Ivor is here,” I whispered.

  “I know.”

  I read the painful truth in his eyes. “Did he kill your wife?”

  He looked away. “I don’t blame you for coming here tonight.”

  I shook my head. “You were always going to leave.”

  “Let’s get you home safe.”

  I moved quickly to block the door. “I can’t be without you, James.”

  He trapped me between him and the exit, peering down with an intensity that burned me up from the inside out. Cupping my face and leaning in, he pressed his lips to mine. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, searching and comforting, then he nipped my bottom lip before pulling away.

  Don’t let this be goodbye.

  “What will you do?”

  “You’re my priority. I’ll remain in the shadows.” He opened the door and motioned me ahead. “I’ll be right behind you. At the top of the stairs, head left. That’s the way back to your cabin.” His lips quirked in amusement as he handed my violin and bow back to me. “And Em, go left.”

  It made me smile.

  Leaving him was the hardest thing I’d ever done, or so it felt. The distance feeling eternal with each step I took as I ascended the stair
case. I turned left and made my way along the back of the boat, my precious instrument clasped tightly against me.

  A shadowy figure strolled around the corner.

  Ivor Mikhail.

  I flinched under his stare.

  His face wore an amused expression as he came closer. “Ah, the violinist,” he said, his accent thick as he checked around to make sure we were alone. “Do I know you?”

  This I’d read about—the men of the KGB were capable of anything from blackmail to kidnapping to assassinations, and he was one of them.

  He rapidly closed the gap between us, backing me up against the balustrade and towering over me.

  He glanced at where my nametag should be. “Why are you looking at me like that? Like you know me…”

  A voice from behind us snapped, “Get away from her.”

  Ivor spun to look at James. A flash of recognition.

  James threw a look of reassurance my way. “This was inevitable.”

  Ivor’s gaze snapped back to my face as though trying to connect us.

  “Step back,” seethed James as he placed a fingertip to his ear. “Do you copy?” He gave a nod as though hearing confirmation. “Three minute window. Stern. Portside.”

  Ivor’s attack on James was swift. He maneuvered closer, first throwing a strong punch and then swinging a kick that proved he’d been trained in hand-to-hand combat.

  James landed a strike to Ivor’s gut. The man doubled over and then sprang up, knocking James against the wall and landing a blow to his jaw.

  “I’ll get help,” I called out.

  “No,” snapped James.

  The men gripped each other’s collars as they spun violently toward a wall. Ivor tripped and his phone slipped from his pocket. He went to grab it and James pulled him back.

  They tumbled through a doorway that opened up into a deserted dining room.

  James leaped to his feet in one sleek move and swung his leg up and around in mid-air, aiming for the man’s neck.

  Ivor jumped aside and then leapt at James, flinging his entire weight on him. They fell to the ground and skidded along the highly-polished floor until Ivor got the upper hand, straddling James, grabbing him by the throat and strangling him.