Page 7 of The Baritone's Rival

“Whatdoesinterest you, Oscar?”

Oscar smirked. “Sex and being an opera star. Now if you’ll excuse me, a dance floor full of sweaty daddies awaits me.”

As Oscar stood, the door to the elevator rang. Everyone turned their heads in the direction of the sound. The doors opened to reveal Justin, dazed but looking a bit more like the plucky vamp Oscar remembered.

“Umm, hi.” He gave a little wave.

Freddie, who’d been watching the conversation from the armchair with an amused look, stood. “Justin, how are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty good. The blood bags helped.” An uncertain smile appeared on his face. “I knew Rick was an asshole, but I didn’t expect him to break my neck. Thank goodness I’m a vampire. I’m fine now.”

“Glad to hear it.” Freddie gestured to Anthony. “This is my mate, Anthony. And you know Oscar.”

“Someone broke your neck?!” Anthony sprang up and hurried to Justin’s side. “We need to make sure you’re okay. Come, sit down.”

Oscar watched as Anthony did what he did best: making people feel welcome and cared for. Justin had a natural optimism that would benefit the coven, and Anthony was the perfect person to draw that out.

Oscar knew he should be grateful for Anthony’s caretaking impulse, but he chafed under it when it was directed at him. He valued his privacy, and if he was being honest, his ability to pack up and run at the drop of a hat. He’d learned his lesson. Strong personal ties just exposed him to more manipulation and betrayal.

Justin glowed at Anthony’s attention, and Oscar slipped out the door before anyone could notice. Anthony might want to find Oscar a long-term boyfriend, buthehad other plans, which hopefully included several short-term arrangements that very evening.

Chapter 3

Trent

Something was off from the moment Trent entered the classroom for his Vocal Literature class. Usually, Anthony breezed in at five past the hour, pontificating about Rossini or Mozart or Britten like a nerdy operatic whirlwind. Not today.

Today, Anthony was there when Trent walked in, scribbling away on the whiteboard. The few students that had beaten Trent there were staring in silence. Mischievous energy poured off his teacher. Anthony practically wiggled as he wrote his list.

It was a lineup of names, some in pairs, some in trios. This wasn’t good.

Previously, Anthony had always let them choose the music they would sing. He’d decide on the parameters. German lieder. Contemporary art song. Baroque. Classical. Romantic. Most people worked by themselves, although occasionally a couple of folks presented a duet. Once a trio sang the finale of Gounod’sFaust.

Trent had only ever performed solo. Until today.

He predicted what it would say before the words appeared. Anthony just couldn’t leave anything alone. Once Trent’s teacher got something in his head, he was worse than a dog with a bone. Anthony was convinced that Trent needed to be brought out ofhis shell. The man didn’t understand that Trentlikedhis shell, that his shell had formed around him for a reason.

But that didn’t matter. Right there on the board, in bright purple marker: Trent and Oscar. Dammit.

He knew at some point he’d have to sing with someone else, but he figured he’d get a choice. He thought he’d be able to avoid working with someone who was…well, who was Oscar.

“Alright, friends,” Anthony began, “we’re starting today with assigned groups.”

The whole class stared at Anthony, but the smile never left his face. The tense silence in the room proved that Trent wasn’t the only control freak among the students. Everyone was trepidatious about putting their grade at the mercy of another person’s whims. He certainly was.

To be fair, Trent didn’t know Oscar, and to be unfair, he didn’t like him. He’d dealt with his share of poor little rich boys in undergrad. Everything was a game to them. His college girlfriend had been a trust fund kid, and it’s probably why they broke up. She could never understand his drive, his constant need to do better, to achieve more.

Although, if he was being honest with himself, it might have had more to do with the uninspired sex.

But there were no stakes in this for someone like Oscar. If his career fizzled, hell, if he dropped out of the master’s program, he’d always have the cushion of his privilege. Trent didn’t know much about Oscar’s background, but he knew that he didn’t take anything seriously and threw money around like it was confetti.

Trent couldn’t do that. This career was all he had. His parents couldn’t help him. They were?—

“Trent?”

Anthony’s voice cut through his ruminations. Shit. How had he gotten so distracted?

“Sorry. Yeah?”

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