Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(102)

“She is gone now?”

“Yes,” I said. “She died in Hungary when I was young.” A pang of sorrow shot through my heart as it always did when I spoke of her, but nothing else.

At these words Eliot raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry.” He put his hand on mine, and again I felt the inescapable thrill of desire run through me. When he withdrew his hand, I had to stop myself from reaching out. He looked back at the music sheets on the piano. He put his hand out and began to play the Satie again, with a lighter touch. The first chords struck at my heart now that I heard them clearly: so simple, so elegant.

“Hungary is my homeland,” he said, his voice distant.

“I thought so,” I nodded. “You sound kind of like my grandmother. Your accent.”

“I have an accent?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, his fingers continuing into the first slow crescendo. “Have you been to Hungary?”

“No,” I said. “I’d like to. Her whole family was from there. She always told me it was beautiful.”

“And your father?” The first low dissonant notes came in from the bottom.

“He’s in Hollywood with his new wife. They’re very famous.” I couldn’t help but frown, tensing as I thought about the other side of my family, and for a few moments Eliot was silent, letting the music flow from his hands. The softness of the notes relaxed me.

“Fame is not always nice,” he said finally, launching into the second part of the melody.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, although it did. “I live with my grandmother. I’m nobody to him. Or to anyone.” The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.

Eliot stopped playing in the middle of a measure, and silence spilled across the distance between us. He took a deep breath before speaking, his words tracing a slow tempo in the air.

“You are a mathematician,” he said. “And a musician.”

“I’m not anything,” I said. “I’m just—” I’m just Brynn. I cut the words off quickly, frightened suddenly that I might slip and give away my real name. “I’m normal. Not really great at music or math.”

Eliot laughed softly and began to play again. The chords sounded lighter this time around.

“You have years to become great,” he said, letting the space draw out between notes. “No need to rush. See how badly I play? And I’m even worse at math.” A sparkle of teasing glimmered in his eye, but I could not tell if he was teasing me or himself.

“Most people are bad at math,” I said.

“True. So perhaps we have a long way to go before we are satisfied. We have plenty of time.” His eyes caught mine, and the second meaning behind his words made my breath catch in my throat. I coughed and looked up at the piano score, pretending to follow along with the notes. He played the second coda perfectly, hitting the exact right balance between lightness and emotion. I closed my eyes for the final two chords, letting my heart swell as they resolved upward and faded into the air.

“Valentina.”

The brief pause before my look of recognition must have given me away, but he seemed not to notice. He was lost in himself.

“Yes?”

His eyes lowered, unwilling to meet mine, and his fingertips ran along the ivory keys slowly, tentatively.#p#分页标题#e#

“You play beautifully.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brass key. He handed it to me, turning his head up, and my lips parted when he pressed his palm on top of mine. His eyes were fierce, demanding, as though he had made up his mind about something.

“What’s this?”

“The key to this room. So you can become great a bit more quickly.” He smiled, his hand still on top of mine. “I’ll let the music professor know you’re allowed to play.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.” It was the most fabulous gift I’d ever received. I thought of how all the music majors would gape as I walked by them to the midnight piano room. How I would sit down at the keys, the deep, rich tones of the Bosendorfer flowing from my fingertips. Mine!

“Say you’ll practice this piece. I’ll leave it for you. You have a talent for the melody.”

“Thank you.” My voice was a whisper as I turned the key in my hand. I could not understand why he treated me so kindly. He brought one finger up under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. His touch weakened every muscle in my body.

“Promise me you’ll keep playing.”

“Of course.” At that moment, I would have done anything he asked. I wondered why I trusted him. Perhaps it was because he trusted me. Even though I had lied to him. In that instant, I wanted to take it back, to tell him my real name, but I did not know how.