Page 42 of The Princess and the Fraud

While I coached myself, my gaze drifted toward the black piano in the corner of the room. Aaron’s music, though long gone, still hummed underneath my skin, each note tickling like a ghost touch. It’d pervaded my thoughts while I’d cleaned, its loop causing time to slip by unnoticed.

I bit the corner of my lip, and though I knew nothing about the piano, my feet carried me forward.

Lifting the lid, I exposed the white keys to the chandelier light, their ivory surface begging to be touched. I pressed down on one, listening to the note as it filled the air. And then I pressed another, and then another, untilthere—the first note in the swell, after the breath. Just one of the keys in the chord—and Aaron had used almost every finger when he’d played it. I hummed it again to find the next key. It reverberated through the air and up my arm, almost like a shot of electricity.

It was nothing like sliding my bow across the cello strings, of course. Only a cruel tease. Close, but not quite enough. I still closed my eyes anyway, pressing down on the key again, the melody finishing in my head.

“You play by ear?”

A soft gasp ripped from me, and my eyes flew open as I whirled around. It wasn’t Caroline, whom I’d been expecting, but Aaron. He stood in the doorway of the event hall, hands in his pockets, watching me.

For some reason, I jerked my hand off the piano. “No.”

“You picked those notes out.” Aaron almost sounded accusatory. He wasn’t looking at me, but at the piano. “You hummed to find them. I heard you.”

Definitely accusatory.

“You play by ear,” he repeated, striding over to where I stood, “but youquit?”

I studied his expression. “Why does that make you angry?”

“Because you’regood. And you just gave it up.” He leaned down to lay his right hand on the keys. In the same flowing succession as he had earlier, his four fingers coaxed out the melody I’d meagerly attempted a moment ago. “You heard it once and replicated it.”

“I know Rachmaninoff,” I told him, almost irritated. “It wasn’t my first time hearing that concerto.”

“But have you ever played it on the piano before?”

No, I had not. I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “What are you doing back down here?”

“I wanted to play again. Annalise said it would be okay.” He spoke while focusing on the piano’s glossy surface. “You’re still working?”

“I’m almost done. I’m waiting for Caroline.”

Aaron made a noise in his throat and pulled the piano stool back, rolling up his shirt sleeves to expose his tanned forearms. I hated that I even paused to watch him and his stupid bare skin. I hated that I anticipated his fingers once more returning to those keys, getting the chance to listen to what sound they’d make this time.

“Sit,” he said.

“Me? Why?”

“Because if I was forced to play tonight, so shall you be.”

“Forced.” I almost scoffed. “You wanted to play. I saw you.”

There’d been no mistaking that longing look he’d cast the piano’s way earlier. And even now, hours after the party, here he was, gravitating toward the music yet again.

“Sit so we can pass the time while you wait for Caroline, then.” I opened my mouth to object when Aaron followed up with, “Goodness, my dear, stop fighting me on every little thing, and just sit down.”

For a beat, I stared into his dark eyes, waiting for who would blink first. Aaron didn’t. His gaze was steady, unyielding, challenging.

Begrudgingly, I eased down on the bench. “I don’t play music,” I told him.

“No, you don’t play thecello.” Aaron moved to stand behind me. “I know; you told me you aren’t a cellist. Today, though, you will be apianist.”

I quirked my lips to the side.A pianist. I waited for him to sit beside me.

Except he didn’t. “Do you know the keys on the piano? A, B, C?—”

“Nope.”

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