“Oh, right, good.” I paused, glancing around. Lille and Jack were being just as silent as King, which wasn’t helping matters. I got the feeling neither one of them were the chatty kind, but it could just as easily have been the awkwardness causing them to flounder for something to say. All of a sudden, my dress felt too tight, and my throat clogged with nervous tension.
“Well, I think I’ll go use the bathroom and maybe grab a programme before the concert starts.”
King glanced at me for a brief moment, nodded, then turned his attention to the stage again. I stood, making my way past him because lots of people had already taken their seats on the other end of the row. I did my best not to brush off him as I went, and then I hurried to find the ladies’. Once I got there, I really wanted to splash some water on my face, but couldn’t because it would ruin my makeup, so I settled for holding my wrists under the cold tap for a minute.
When I was done, I bought a programme and hovered, browsing the selection of CDs available. Then the final call for the start of the concert was announced over the speakers, so I made my way back inside. I had to go by King again to get to my seat, and my heel caught on the toe of his shoe, causing me to trip backwards. His hands went to my hips to steady me and I pulled myself back up, apologising profusely. Once I was safely seated, his hand squeezed my knee, the affectionate gesture surprising me. I was even more surprised when he leaned close to my ear and whispered calmly, “Relax, Alexis.”
My skin heated everywhere his breath touched, and he moved his hand away. I wished he’d leave it there. A moment later the concert began, the orchestra musicians taking their places on the stage. The pianist was the last to walk out, a woman in her thirties wearing a long black dress. The audience clapped for her, and then the conductor was standing by his podium, signalling the start of the concerto. The lights in the hall were dimmed, which made the gigantic room feel small somehow.
The second the pianist started to play, I had chills. With each stroke of the keys, she moved her body with a fierce elegance. It reminded me of that night in Rome, when King had played the same piece and I’d been fascinated by his talent and skill. The orchestra joined in after a couple of notes, and I was swept away with the music. It was so…passionate and consuming. Several minutes passed before I even thought to glance at King. He stared straight ahead, his hands resting on his thighs, but his eyes were glassy, his jaw clenched firm. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was angry or because he was trying to control his emotions.
Feeling brave, I reached out and slid my hand into his, our fingers intertwining. He didn’t push me away. Instead, he clenched my fingers tight, almost to the point of pain. He hadn’t heard music like this in a really long time, and I could tell it was having a profound effect on him. Hell, it was having a profound effect on me, and I knew nothing about classical music. There was just such beauty in the piece that it was hard not to let it capture your imagination.
Everything this man had been through flashed in my mind’s eye. The fear of his mother’s stalker. Thinking he’d killed him and then having his father come onto the scene, making it seem like he could fix everything, when really he was only going to make it worse. Bruce trying to force his way of life on King when he wanted no part in it. Making him bear witness to violence and crimes he could never wash from his memories. Blackmailing him for years. And then, the last straw when King finally snapped and almost killed his father. Running away and leaving behind everything he worked so hard to achieve because he thought he was a murderer.
The music continued, and before I knew it, the concerto had come to an end. When the audience rose in a standing ovation, King jumped up from his seat, hurriedly making his way out of the hall.
“Where’s he going?” Lille asked, but I could only give her a blank stare. I had no clue, but I knew I needed to follow him. I pushed my way out, spotting him a couple of yards ahead of me. It was hard to keep up with his long strides, especially since I was wearing heels and had considerably shorter legs.
“King,” I called out. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t expect him to answer, but then he responded loudly over his shoulder, “I have to…I have to go somewhere.”
I couldn’t seem to catch up with him, so I pulled out the ballet flats I always kept in my handbag (I was practical like that) and quickly swapped them out with my heels. Finally catching up, I grabbed his elbow.
“King, will you wait a second?”
He didn’t stop. “I just need to walk, okay? You don’t have to come.”
I steeled my resolve. There was no way I was leaving him alone right then. “I’m coming.” Little did I know I’d come to regret that decision when we’d walked for over an hour, and my feet felt like they wanted to crawl away from my body and die. King didn’t seem to be walking in any random direction, though; I sensed he had a destination in mind. It became apparent that was the case when I recognised his old apartment building in the distance.
“Your old place,” I said, winded. Yeah, I definitely needed to work out more and, I don’t know, eat more carrots or something. I was in worse shape than King, who was overcoming an addiction and some serious illnesses to boot. It was kind of ridiculous. Damn you, cake! I inwardly groaned.
We’d just reached the entrance to the lobby when King turned back to me, his eyes fierce as he took me in. “Are you all right?”
I waved away his concern sheepishly as I tried to catch my breath. “Yep, that walk was just a little more, uh, vigorous than I’m used to.”
The fierceness quickly fled his expression as his lips shaped into something akin to amusement. He didn’t comment on it, though, and his expression sobered soon after. He turned back around, walking toward the door and holding it open for me. We stepped inside, and the night doorman pulled out his earphones, eyeing us curiously.
“I’ve lost my keys,” King announced with authority, and the doorman frowned.
“I’m sorry. I don’t recognise you. What number is your apartment?”
“Twenty-two. The top floor. My name is Oliver King.” The way he said it gave me a little shiver of awareness. This was the first time since I’d found him that he’d so confidently stated his name, like he had regained a sense of his identity. It felt monumental, made my heart thump hard.
The doorman’s eyes widened. “Oh, you mean the penthouse? Do you have any identification?”
King’s expression darkened in annoyance, and I suddenly remembered that I had keys. Elaine had asked if I’d drop by and check on things a few weeks ago, and had given me her spare set. I’d completely forgotten to drop by, of course, and the keys were still sitting safely in the inside pocket of my bag. I quickly began to dig for them before pulling them out triumphantly.
“Ah! Crisis averted. I found the keys,” I declared, jingling them in the air. King shot me a perplexed look, and the young doorman appeared relieved to be able to avoid further disturbance. Whatever he’d been listening to on those headphones, he seemed eager to get back to it. I faked a confident tone.
“Come on, honey,” I said, holding my hand out to King. “Let’s get going. I’m exhausted.”
He stepped forward and took my hand as I led him toward the lift. Once we were safely on board, King turned to face me. “Honey?”
I shrugged. “I was aiming for casual.”
His lips twitched in amusement again. “You have the keys for my apartment?”
“Your mum gave them to me. She wanted me to stop by and check on things. Make sure the plants got watered.”
“I never had any plants.”
I made a weird sound in the back of my throat. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
The doors to the lift pinged open, and there was a beat of silence where King just stared at me. I both loved and hated his stares in equal measure. I loved them because they made me want him. And I hated them because they made me want him.