Page 49 of Unforgiving Queen
“What do you mean?” I asked slowly. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions; it could be that Maestro only needed violinists today.
Phoenix lifted her shoulder and sniffed. “He picked another pianist. No biggie.”
I straightened in my chair, indignation shooting through me. “What? I thought he wanted you. He made that clear.” A flicker crossed her expression and suspicion pooled in the pit of my stomach. “Tell me why he picked someone else, Phoenix.”
My signing was jerky from the red-hot anger flaring inside me.
“It’s not a big deal.” Her fluent movements disguised her own frustration, but she couldn’t hide the disappointment lurking in her eyes.
“The hell it isn’t. Why did he pick someone else?” I repeated.
“When he saw my name, he assumed you’d participate too.”
A groan escaped my lips. It was so freaking unfair. Phoenix was a far better musician than me, and yet her hearing constantly put her at a disadvantage.
“Why are you so calm?”
She glared at me as though I’d betrayed her. “I’m not. I want revenge. I want to cut off his dick and blind the motherfucker.” Okay, well, that was unexpected. “But it won’t change his mind about me playing for the symphony, so I have to let it go. I’ll get another gig. Make him regret it in the long run.”
She was right. That was the best revenge she could bestow on any asshole who dismissed or snubbed her.
“And then refuse him whenever he wants you to play in his concerts.” I snickered, picking up my pencil. “I still can’t believe that asshole.”
She leaned against the wall and folded her arms, clearly done with our conversation. I wasn’t quite done with Maestro, and I fully intended to seek him out and make him regret the day he was born, but Phoenix didn’t need to know that.
Her expression burned into me until I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore.
“What?” I sounded too defensive and I didn’t even know why. It wasn’t as if I’d done something wrong.Yet. She unfolded her arms and waved her hand dismissively. I narrowed my eyes. “Clearly something’s on your mind, so just spit it out.”
That did it.
“You don’t look dressed for going out,” she pointed out, her arm making a gesture at me that made it clear my wardrobe of yoga pants and a crewneck top was inadequate for her standards. “Nor for work, for that matter.”
I rolled my eyes. “First, I’m shoved in here where nobody sees me but the guy who keeps giving me this boring crap.” I gestured at the piles of documents on my already messy desk. There were days where I pored over so much paperwork, I contemplated stabbing myself in the eye. “It’s Friday, a ‘dress down’ day.” Her eyebrows rose as if to say “so what,” but she remained quiet. “Most of the company is off today anyway. Some retreat or some shit.”
“And you didn’t go?”
“It was optional.” If it was a required event, I would have really stabbed myself in the eyes.
A soft hum vibrated in her chest, calling me out on my bullshit.
“You can’t keep hiding from the world.” I scoffed loudly, rolling my eyes and readying myself to protest. She must’ve been reading my thoughts. “And if you tell me you’re coming to terms with everything, I’m going to drag you out of this building by your hair.”
I sighed. “I’m not hiding,” I retorted wryly. “I just like this better than constantly going out and partying.”
“Like what?” she challenged. “Listening to sad songs, learning to fight, and hanging out with some ex-special ops dude?”
She was referring to Darius and our ongoing meet-ups in the local martial arts center. We’d become good friends over the last three years.
I shrugged. “I like it.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you likehim?”
I stared at her for a moment before I burst into a fit of giggles. Sure, Darius was hot, but he wasn’t remotely my type. With his shoulder-length blond hair and bulging muscles, I often wondered if he wasn’t more vain than all my friends combined.
“I like him as a friend,” I answered. “Nothing more; nothing less.”
She must have seen the truth in my eyes because she let it go. “Come out with us.”
