Page 10 of Filthy Elites

“Why? I thought we were full,” Sloane retorts.

“There’s always room for remarkable talent. Trust me, we all gain by the addition of Ms. Devlin.”

Hell, way to make everyone here hate me, Mrs. Simpson.

“What instrument does she play?” a freckled guy with thick glasses asks.

“The violin,” I answer, sick of people talking about me as if I weren’t in the room.

The guy grimaces, then turns to Jason.

“We already have a badass violinist.” Sloane crosses her arms.

“No one else plays the violin here?” I ask.

A couple of people raise their hands timidly.

“They don’t count.” Sloane turns and gives them the death glare.

Everything becomes crystal clear to me then. Jason is the main violinist. Maybe if I hadn’t been busy having an inner argument, it would have dawned on me sooner. No wonder he almost lost his mind when Mrs. Simpson gushed over me and didn’t want me to join her class. He’s been getting all the solos. If I’m better, that will go away.

I don’t get it. Why did he bring me to this room in the first place? What was he hoping to gain?

“If Nicola is so good, let’s hear it, then,” Sloane replies with a smirk.

She’s challenging me, and that sends a rush of excitement through my veins. As crazy as it sounds, I’ve missed the competitiveness of performing arts.No, you can’t go there, Isabelle. You’re just going to practice.There’s only one issue.

“I don’t have a violin,” I say with regret.

Sloane snorts. “What kind of violinist doesn’t have their own instrument?”

“It got stolen on the trip here,” I lie.

Not that I owe her an explanation, but itisstrange that I don’t have a violin. I don’t want anyone thinking too much about it. It’s bad enough that Jason asked me point blank if I played, and I lied to him. He said he was going to unveil all my secrets, and now he knows I have a closet full of them.

“She can use mine. I mean, she already helped herself to it the other day,” Jason chimes in.

That washisviolin? Why did he leave such an expensive instrument in the classroom? More and more, I’m beginning to suspect Jason set a trap for me, but the outcome was not what he expected. It doesn’t matter. The nagging suspicion that he knows who I am makes me sick to my stomach. If he’s angry that I might take his place as the star of the show, there’s nothing stopping him from unveiling my secret. But I know if I stop playing altogether, I’ll return to the bleakness I experienced during my recovery. That’s almost as scary as the prospect of Juan finding me. I’m stuck between a rock and hard place.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” I grit out.

He smiles but it has no warmth. “Now you do.”

I watch him take the instrument from its case and then walk across the room to hand it over. He leans closer and whispers in my ear. “Enjoy the spotlight while you can, Nicola. It won’t last.”

I hate that his threat makes my body tremble a little. It’s not that I’m afraid of him. I fear the devil he might send after me.

“Do you have a specific request?” I ask Mrs. Simpson.

“Surprise me,” she replies with a smile.

I don’t want to show off, and it’s been a while since I’ve practiced. I decide to play a piece I’m familiar with. Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 5. It’s strange now to be playing the instrument, knowing it belongs to Jason. It feels intimate.

I get into position and then make the mistake of looking at him. His aquamarine-blue eyes are as dark as a thunderstorm. It sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t know what I did to earn that rage from him. Getting angry because he has to share the spotlight feels excessive, even for a spoiled asshole.

Trying to ground myself, I look away first and begin. The notes aren’t as sharp as I know I can play them, but I’m not terrible.Unfortunately, I can’t lose myself in the music completely today. An audience never unsettled me before, but Jason alone is doing that to me.

When I finish, Mrs. Simpson claps enthusiastically. Everyone else remains frozen, half the room staring at me and the other half at Jason. His expression is closed-off. He could be mistaken for a marble statue.

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