Page 57 of The Darkest Note

But I should know better.

Dutch Cross doesn’t leave before getting what he came for.

He lingers in the doorway. His stare caresses me in a way that sets my blood on fire.

As the silence settles, I realize that I shouldn’t be so dismissive. Dutch would never tellme—the real me—the reason he’s so hell-bent on making my life miserable. But he doesn’t know this version. Maybe I can pry it out of him while in disguise.

Turning abruptly, I lift my chin. “Why are you going around asking for her anyway. Did she do something to you?”

He takes a step into the room, slowly, as if I’ll disappear like a mirage if he moves too fast. His face is set in a thoughtful expression. His strong nose and chin cuts through the shadows.

The silence is oppressive and the temperature rises when he gets close to me. I’ve never felt such tension before. It’s so fragile that one word will make it shatter.

“What’s your name?” he asks. The vibration of his voice rattles me in a way that not even music has the ability to.

His body’s bigger than I remember, his hard chest stopping a mere breath away from my face. He’s my enemy at Redwood Prep. But right now, he’s not looking at me like he wants to break me.

It takes me a moment to realize I’m gawking. I slam my mouth shut and shift from one leg to another. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because every perfect song deserves a name.”

My eyelashes flicker. Did the broody beast just say something romantic?

As his amber gaze burns into me, I swear my entire heart flutters right out of my ribs and starts beating like a bat around the room.

I see it then—the interest flickering in his gaze. I thought he came to track me—the real me—down. But he’s not. He’s back here because he has a thing for my alter ego.

Power surges through my body, crackling like lightning. There have been so many moments at Redwood Prep when it felt like the light at the end of the tunnel was getting smaller and smaller. So many moments when all I wanted was a chance to level the playing field.

I haven’t had many opportunities to get back at the great Dutch Cross. Now that a door is open in front of me, I feel bold.

There’s no way I’m letting this moment slip through my fingers.

With an unimpressed eye roll, I smirk at him. “Does that line usually work for you?”

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone so fast I’m not sure if I imagined it.

“That’s usually all it takes, yeah.” He shrugs, but the glint in his eyes is anything but casual. “How long have you been playing?”

The interest in his voice takes me by surprise. “A while.”

“I’ve never heard anyone deconstruct Chopin like that. Your piano teacher must love you.”

The mention of my piano teacher reminds me of Mr. Mulliez and it makes me greedy for Dutch’s pain.

I take a deliberate step forward. “People evolve. I don’t see why music can’t either. Music is a reflection of us. Of who we are, where we come from and who we want to be.”

“It’s also a measure of perfection. If we don’t play it exactly right, we don’t win.”

I scrunch my nose. “I think our obsession with holding on to things, trying to preserve them so they’re exactly the way they always were, can keep us from seeing what’s important.”

His gaze slips down my body. When it slides back up, I realize that this is not a game I can play lightly. “And what is that?”

I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. “Composers are trying to convey a feeling, not a perfect score. It’s easier to destroy the classics when I think a few of those guys might be the first to destroy their own work too.”

My words earn me a slow grin that sends flames dancing all the way to my toes.

I freeze, hating myself for noticing. This is Dutch—the ruiner of lives and souls. The guy who’s made sure that, in the last few weeks at Redwood Prep, I’ve had something to destroy my entire day.

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