I released a careful breath, tamping down the weird feelings blooming inside of me. “Thank you.”
“Why’d you stop playing?”
I glanced to the side, and after a beat, I answered, “It’s complicated.”
He dropped his hands on the top of my shoulders and I swallowed audibly. His heady masculine scent surrounded me, producing a mild case of vertigo. “We have time for complicated. Your dad won’t be back for hours.”
“Weird things happened.” I stared bitterly at the piano. “Confrontations with strangers. I don’t know. Dumb stuff I didn’t understand. My father didn’t think it was safe for me to spend much time away from the house, and now I’m basically a prisoner in my home.”
“Ah.” He worked his fingers into my shoulders, massaging my tight muscles. While I should keep my distance from him both mentally and physically, his touch felt too good and I surrendered to it, dropping my chin to my chest. His fingers dipped into the scooped neck of my blouse, leisurely mapping the horizontal lines of my collarbone. “You’ll have more freedom when you move to Chicago. I want you to get to know my friends and family and make a life there. You can take as many lessons as you want and perform whenever and wherever.”
Acting purely on instinct, I leaned into him, my body brushing against his silky tie. His warm, minty breath stirred the fallen strands of hair next to my ear. One of his hands slipped up my back, tracing my spine and the curve of my waist. My eyes fluttered shut, getting lost in the moment. Goose bumps peppered my arms. A crackling energy swirled around the room.
When his fingertips brushed the underside of my breast, an alarm sounded inside my brain, muted by the slow burn of desire. If I encouraged him, he’d kiss me or more. I straightened my back and pitched my torso away from him, desperate to slow the wave of need sucking me under.
“So you don’t care what I do. Once we’re married you’ll have your alliance with my family, and both of us can go our own way. Live our own lives,” I said, turning his generous words on their head and using them as ammunition.
His hands tensed, his fingers digging into my flesh, then he backed away, severing all contact, his posture deceptively casual and relaxed. “Where’d you get that idea?”
I lurched to my feet and whirled around. “I know that you brought your girlfriend, goomah or whatever, to our engagement party, which tells me you have no intention of having a real marriage with me, which is fine. I don’t want to marry you either. I’m too young, and I don’t know you, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped toying with my emotions.”
He frowned. “Emilia…”
“No. I’m not done talking. I don’t care if we have a real marriage. I don’t even care if you plan to set me up in another house. But I do object to you pretending you’re interested in more than my last name and connections. It’s a waste of our time and energy. So here’s what I think. You can go home, do what you want, and I’ll do what I want here.”
His lips twitched, and he wiped his hand over his mouth.
I shot him a scathing look. “What’s so funny?”
“My girlfriend. You think I brought my girlfriend?”
I jutted out my hip and lifted my chin. “I know you brought your girlfriend. She was the woman in the green dress. Right?”
“Sarah?”
“I don’t know her name. No one introduced her to me.”
“Did you want me to introduce her to you?”
“Ah, let me think.” I tapped my finger on my lips. “Um, yeah, I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.” Asshole. Thank God, I had no intention of marrying this man. I’d be silently plotting his death within a year.
“Contrary to what you apparently think of me,” he drawled, his voice deep and mocking, “I’m not so insecure that I need a woman hanging off my arm and in my bed to feel better about myself. And I hate to point this out, but your accusation is a little hypocritical given Sal’s presence.”
“So you’re saying you’ve never touched that woman?” I folded my arms across my chest and tipped up my chin, determinedly ignoring my hypocrisy because he nailed it on the head. I had no right to toss accusations at him for more reasons than he knew. “Is that what you want me to believe?”
Lazy amusement lit his face. “Are you jealous, little Emilia?”
“What? You can’t be serious. I don’t care what or who you do. I only want to know what to expect so I’m not blindsided by your girlfriends at every turn.”
Stalking closer to me, his eyes darkened with an edgy power, and I backpedaled until the piano dug into my back. His hands flattened on top of the piano on either side of me, effectively caging me in. “Is that a fact?” A hard, possessive tone colored his voice, making me hyper aware of our proximity.