Page 12 of Arrogant and Merciless

“Are you running away?” she asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you. Taylor’s just a girl, and on top of that, she’s alone in the world. Don’t break her heart.”

I bend down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll come by on Sunday to take you out for lunch.”

“Then you’re forgiven for chasing after my caregiver.”

“I don’t chase women, Grandma. It’s always been the other way around.”

“There’s a first time for everything, my boy. Your grandfather was quite the womanizer, too, and when he finally fell in love with me, he fell hard.”

I can still hear her laughing as I make my way into the hall. What I need to do is look up one of the women in my phone contacts and cool off this fixation on the redhead.

I’m heading down the staircase, phone in hand, when I reach the main living room and spot Sherie, my grandmother’s housekeeper, peering out the window with a disapproving frown. She’s obviously spying on someone, which doesn’t surprise me. Maryann and my mother don’t get along, so my mother hardly ever visits, and Sherie acts as my mother’s “eyes” in her mother-in-law’s house.

I must have made some noise, because she spins around with a guilty look. She goes bright red when she sees me, and I don’t think it’s just because she was caught in the act. It’s not the first time I’ve sensed she’s flustered when I appear. If she didn’t look so much like a strict nun in both manner and attire, I’d say she was flirting, but I doubt she even knows how to do that.

“I was just noticing that...um...it’s started raining,” she says.

I walk closer, and she mutters an excuse before practically running away. The woman is exceedingly odd.

I go to the window to see what caught her attention—because I doubt it was just the rain. For a moment, as I peer through the glass, I think I must be hallucinating.

Taylor is outside in a pouring rainstorm, dancing and laughing. And not just that—she’s moving her arms like she’s playing an imaginary violin.

Protagonist ofThe Arrogant’s Surrender, Book 1 of this series.

Protagonist of book 3 of this series.

Taylor

CHAPTER EIGHT

I was leavingMrs. Marshall’s house for my shift at the bar, fully equipped with an umbrella and a raincoat, when I got caught off-guard by the storm.

The relentless wind flipped my umbrella inside out, and within seconds, I was drenched. My first reaction was to curse. Even though I had a change of clothes in my backpack, I’d have lost the half hour I’d planned to use for dinner before starting my shift.

But my annoyance lasted only a few seconds, because the pounding rain made me feel more alive than I had in ages.

I went back to the doorway, dropped off my backpack, and ran out to welcome the downpour. First, I simply opened my arms and let the water wash away the past year, especially my father’s death. Then I let it pull me out of the autopilot mode I’ve been stuck in ever since.

I didn’t even have to try; memories of when I was happy came rushing back. I danced and played in the rain, just like when I was little and my dad joined me. I looked up at the sky and prayed that he could see me, hoping he’d understand that, although I miss him terribly, I’m managing to live, not justsurvive.

Finally, when I was completely lost in my bubble of happiness, I closed my eyes and brought out my violin—my imaginary one—because I had to sell the real thing to cover my father’s medical bills.

I played his favorite piece, which I know by heart: Bach’s?1Suite No. 3 in D Major.

I let the tears I’ve been holding back since the funeral come. I allowed myself just a few seconds—so he wouldn’t be sad up in heaven—to cry for how much I miss him.

So caught up in the past, I forget where I am and what time it is, so I jump in surprise when I hear someone say, "You’re completely soaked, Taylor."

I open my eyes and lower my arms at the same time, reality colliding with the daydream I created.

"I know, Mr. Marshall. I just . . .uh . . .”

"You were playing an imaginary violin." He’s holding a huge umbrella and angles it to cover both of us. The situation is unusual but also oddly intimate, as if he’s joining me in my special moment.

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