Page 77 of Final Serenade

Instead, he said, “That’s why I like you, Cassy Evans.” His hand reached out for me and slipped around my waist. “You don’t bend for anyone. Not even me.”

“Oh, I can bend for you, Mr. Frank,” I purred. “Just say the word.” My rendition of an Eastern European accent could have been better, but it did the job. He smiled and a soft laugh rumbled in his chest.

“We’ll resume this in a bit.” He slapped my ass and stood. “Reese is going to be here any second now.”

“Then you better hurry. Because I do have to leave at five,” I said, checking the time on my phone. “Remember I’ve got meetings too. You’re not the only one with a glowing career.”

His warmth lingered inside the room long after he’d left.

My mind slowly descended back to planet Earth and reminded me that work couldn’t wait anymore.

Hannah was organizing the kitchen when I came out to get coffee. This was my first time actually meeting Frank’s property manager and I had no idea what to expect.

“Ah, Miss Cassy?” She poked her head from behind the massive fridge door. Her heavy accent filled the room. “Mr. Frank said you’re allergic to eggs. Would you like some toast?” She smiled and the lines in the corners of her eyes deepened.

I shook my head and walked over to the coffee maker. “No. Thank you. I’m not hungry yet.”

“Let me know if you change your mind, Miss Cassy.” Though she’d never met me, she knew my name and didn’t hesitate to use it.

“Maybe in a little bit.” Returning her smile, I grabbed a clean mug. “And please don’t call me Miss Cassy.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” She seemed surprised. “What would you like me to call you?”

“Just Cassy is fine.” Hearing a woman my mother’s age call me “Miss” was weird.

Hannah nodded and continued organizing as I poured myself a cup of coffee. Small-framed and tan, she wore a pair of black pants and a Hello Kitty shirt. Her dark brown hair was styled into a pin-up victory roll and I couldn’t tell her age, because of the daring eyeliner and excessive blush, but if I were to guess, perhaps she was late forties or early fifties.

Something about what she’d mentioned earlier bothered me, and maybe it wasn’t my place to bring it up, but I did anyway.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Hannah switched her attention to me.

“Does Frank ride a lot?”

“Oh.” Fright and worry etched her features. “Every week. God forbid something happens again.” She took a deep breath and crossed herself. Her voice dropped to a frail whisper. “He’s not supposed to get on that thing because of his shoulder, but the man is stubborn. No matter what I tell him.”

I understood why Frank had the need to ride. I’d felt it the night he took me to the canyons. It was the purest kind of adrenaline rush. It was just your essence, the wind, and the road, and it was wonderful, but it was also terrifying. The fragility of the balance was terrifying. And I wanted to know what he was chasing every time he got on that bike. Was he facing the fear of the unknown, or was it an attempt to relive the life he’d had before the accident?

Hannah noticed my concern. “Maybe you can talk to him, Miss Cassy,” she offered.

“Me? I don’t think he’ll listen to me.”

“He will. He’s very…” She paused for a second, the lines on her face crinkled. “You keep him busy. He doesn’t have time for nonsense when you’re here.”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret Hannah’s words, so I smiled and excused myself to the office, where my laptop and hours of footage had been waiting for me all morning.

Maria had given us everything she’d collected over the years. Every single show, including the ones from Isabella’s elementary school. Some of the recordings were poor quality, shaky with crackling noises in the background, and I found myself smiling as I sorted through them. My mind got lost in the reminiscences, in the life of a young woman whose promising career had been cut short in such an unfair and brutal way.

Even as a child, Isabella had a very distinctive voice—deep, elegant, and raw. She deserved to be heard and I wanted to help her get there. I wanted to make this happen because it was the right thing to do.

Though the office was private, I preferred to listen with my headphones on and didn’t hear the door, so the footsteps echoing on the parquet floor caught me off guard. I tore my gaze from the laptop screen and registered the person I expected to see there the least, Dante. My heart nearly flipped out of my chest.

He stood in the middle of the room, face smug, eyes curious, mandatory lollipop in the corner of his mouth. His lips moved, but the music still boomed in my ears and I couldn’t make out what he said.

Stomach unsettled, I paused the video and drew a deep breath. “Excuse me?”

“So…you and Frankie-boy, huh?” Dante plucked the candy from his mouth and walked over to the chair on the opposite side of the room.

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