Page 44 of Serving the Maestro

My heart felt hollow.

She glanced at me with a smile trying to juggle the bags to reach her purse. “My boyfriend’s in this one. He’s in town working on a project, and I flew out here to surprise him.”

“How lovely,” I said, surprised to hear how...normal my voice sounded.

Boyfriend.

Trent was her boyfriend.

She dipped inside, putting her bags down on the table next to the door. I was staring numbly into the apartment as she turned to get the other bags, happily chatting away and thanking me for being so nice.

I didn’t say anything. I had no idea what to say.

“Avery?”

I froze at Trent’s voice, my face suddenly flaming hot.

“Hold on a minute, honey,” she said, calling out over her shoulder.

I stepped out of his range of sight, not ready to see him.

But I forgot about the enormous decorative mirror inside the foyer. As Trent came closer to Avery, he filled that mirror. He had on pants, but no shirt.

A phone rang from somewhere deep inside the apartment, and he turned away.

“Gimme a minute,” he said. “Stephen was supposed to call.”

“I’ve got it all,” she said, taking the bags from me

Avery. Her name was Avery, and she was Trent’s girlfriend.

Still staring at the mirror as he walked away, I clenched my now empty hands into fists.

“It was nice meeting you,” I said, turning and hurrying to my apartment before she drew Trent’s attention to my presence.

I unlocked my door, slipped inside, and pressed my back to the solid surface, slowly sliding down until my butt hit the floor.

“What in the hell is wrong with me?” I whispered.

He was involved with somebody.

He’d lied.

I was angry. That’s what was wrong.

But that wasn’t it—and I knew it.

I wasn’t angry—I was hurt. Anger might come later, and I’d welcome it because it would be better than this deep, wrenching betrayal that had struck me the second he’d turned around, and I’d seen the vivid red marks on his back in the mirror.

Marks that looked like the scratches a lover might give in bed.

FIFTEEN

TRENT

“What are you up to in here?”

The sound of Avery’s voice, low and husky, had me closing my eyes for a brief second. Hot oil popped, and I focused back on the food I was fixing. “Cooking.”

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