Page 49 of Perfect Composition
The hours I’ve spent at the piano have helped the wounded part of me. I feel almost buoyant as I slip into a suit and silk shirt. Quickly calling down to my security team, I announce, “I’m heading out.”
“Any particular destination?” Kane asks.
“Rockefeller Center.” I hang up before I can listen to his squawking about the number of tourists. I need to feel the energy emitted from Christmas present after I’ve just spent hours in the memories of Christmas past. Right before I hit the Down button on the elevator, I smile at the new interior of my home. It took about ten days, but even I can’t tell there’s a thing out of place. Sure the furnishings are different, but I feel like my place has a fresh start. Nothing and no one has been in here.
With a satisfied nod, I press the Down button and use my thumbprint to activate the elevator. With a chuckle, I recall Colby Hunt’s comment when he called to advise me I needed to return to my condo for the installation. “Think of it like a roach motel, Beckett. Even if they manage to get in, they’ll never get out.”
“Who knows? One day that might come in handy.” I laugh aloud as I swoop into the elevator that will take me to the first floor.
I send the recording of the new song to Mick while I’m in the car. He immediately sends me a thumbs-up, which I know means he’ll listen to it later. I also shoot off a text to Erzulie asking if we’re still on for dinner. Her quickNo. Have to get back to youconcerns me. I make a mental note to ask Carys if she’s connected with the young singer lately since her negative press in the fall.
I frown before texting back,Tonight was important.And it was. I was going to try to talk her into meeting with Kristoffer Wilde and breaking her contract to be represented by the Neo Agency. Although Kris tends toward more commercial acts like myself, Brendan Blake, and Zapatta, Erzulie has that same appeal on the indie circuit. She’s got the same kind of appeal of a young Stevie Nicks, Sarah McLachlan, and Annie Lennox, with a bit of Brittany Hölljes tossed in. “The kid could go far,” I mutter aloud.
“I’m sorry, Beckett. Did you say something?” Kane asks.
“Nothing to worry about.”
Within moments, we pull up alongside the curb outside Carys’s building. I let out a sigh of relief. Whether it’s the cold weather or the presence of the tourists, I don’t care. But for once the paps aren’t clustered around the entrance. I start to open my door when Kane growls. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, it’s just…” Then I see someone stumble out the door, wiping her eyes.
And there’s no keeping me in the car.
I fling open the door and sprint toward the woman, who is somehow managing a fast clip in Louboutins. “Paige! Damnit, Paige! Stop!” I holler as I bob and weave past confused and annoyed citygoers.
The woman in question comes to a halt, whirling around. Her lips part as I catch up and grip her upper arms. “Bec—Beckett.” Her voice is stilted, eyes dilated.
I shake her slightly to bring her into focus. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”
She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, I trample all over her words. “Come on. I have friends with an office in this building. They can help. I swear they’re wonderful people. They’ll protect you.”
She braces her hand against my chest. Unthinking, I left the first four buttons undone in what has become my trademark move while dressing. Her cool hand lands against the center of my chest, causing us both to gasp. She goes to yank her hand back, but I grip her wrist and look down. It’s her left hand, completely bare of rings. My heart thumps so wildly, I’m certain she can feel it.
She begins to tremble. And suddenly the impact of her daughter’s stage name hits me full force. I step closer. “Dr. PaigeKensington? You’ve never married?”
Paige responds distractedly, “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I haven’t.”
“It’s my business when your brother taunted me years ago aboutyourdaughter after I saw him in a club in Dallas, bird.” I immediately slip back into calling her my little songbird.
Paige lets out a small cry of despair. Because of the memories? I wonder. Her free hand flies to her mouth. “Him too? Who hasn’t…” She tries to twist away, but I’ve still got a hold of her hand. “Please, please, let me go.”
“Tell me, Paige,” I demand, needing the answers more than I want to protect her from the pain. “Tell me the truth, right now.”
Her ridiculously clear green eyes have tears pouring from them. “That’s what I came here to do, only it was me who learned too many of them. My…our…Austyn is upstairs in Carys’s office. Please be kind. There’s been too many shocks for all of us today.” And with that, Paige rips her hand from mine and dashes away as fast as she can in stilettos.
Leaving me standing there with a gamut of emotions—too many to name. I tip my head back and glance upward, trying to ground myself, wondering what the hell happened.
And what I’m about to walk into.
“Uh-oh,” Angie murmurs when I stride into LLF a few moments later with my security team hard on my heels, which is where they’ve been since Paige ran from me less than ten minutes earlier. An unbearable ten minutes Kane spent blistering my ears about the insanity of running off without the protection I pay a small mint for.
As I shrug off my outer jacket, I order them, “No one leaves.”
Grimly, Kane nods before taking a post by the door. I throw my coat across the waiting room chairs and storm to the imposing mahogany doors.
“Damnit, Becks. You can’t go in there.” Angie throws herself in front of them, trying to block my entrance.
I skewer her through with a look. “I just ran after Paige down on the street. She was destroyed even before I had words with her. There’s no way in hell you’re stopping me from walking through those doors, Angela.”
She curses under her breath. “Give me two minutes to prepare them. Promise me.”
