Page 82 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
He texts like he speaks, abrupt and to the point. Rolling my eyes, I quickly text him back.
[Hollie]Relax, I’m fine. This’ll be over in no time at all.
[Stu]Didn’t answer my questions.
God, he’s irritating.
Turning my phone to silent, I resume checking my violin and wrap up just as a host from the party collects me for the dancing. I’m escorted through the house and into a large ballroom filled with lots of happy, lightly drunk people wrapped up in the merriment of the party. The room dazzles with Christmas decorations and a fantastical ice sculpture in the middle of the room. No wonder this place is being kept so cool. As I walk to the stage, I study the beautiful sculpture. Two dolphins surge upward on a wave, glittering like they’re made out of crystal. It’sstunning and even as it melts, the water drips off the wave and into a bowl below that’s dyed to look like a dark ocean.
Mr. Havershire must really love this girl.
I take my place on the stage next to the piano, and the DJ fades out as I start playing. My nerves about playing in front of such a large crowd vanish within a few notes of music, and like every other time I’m on stage, it’s like I’m the only one who’s actually here. Everyone else melts away just like the sculpture, and I pour my heart into playing.
Forty minutes later, my fingers throb slightly but thankfully, Mr. Havershire finally begins his speech so I switch from violin to piano. He thanks everyone for coming, thanks people for their donations, and then the ceiling opens. Glittering, shimmering fabric drifts away from the ceiling, and with it come more rose petals than anyone could ever count. As instructed, I switch to the requested song. Mr. Havershire vanishes from sight as he gets down on one knee and moments later, a woman squeals in delight. Cheers follow and the crowd surges with excitement, congratulating the newly engaged couple. It’s so beautiful and I pour more of myself into the performance until a light sheen of sweat clings to my skin.
By the end, I’m tired but the crowd is happy and the DJ resumes after I finish my set and quickly pack up my violin.
“Miss Wolfe?” As I’m climbing down from the stage, Mr. Havershire appears out of the crowd and smiles slightly.
“Mr. Havershire! Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you. Your music was delightful.”
My cheeks warm as I wave him off. “It was nothing, really. I’m honored I could contribute to such a beautiful moment.”
“She’s happy, so I’m happy.” He clasps his hands together. “If you’d follow me, we can get your payment sorted.”
Tucking the violin case against my hip, I nod tiredly. “That would be amazing, thank you.”
Mr. Havershire leads the way out of the ballroom, but rather than returning to the old smoking room where I left my shawl and bag, he takes me deeper into the manor. The liveliness from the party gradually fades and it’s not until Mr. Havershire opens the door to his study that it hits me how quiet this part of the manor is.
“Fifteen thousand it was, yes?” Mr. Havershire asks as he holds the door open for me.
I’m forced to walk past him into the study. He closes the door behind me and then ushers me toward the desk.
“Yes,” I reply. “Fifteen. A check would be perfect.”
“Of course.” Mr. Havershire moves around his desk and pulls a checkbook from the first drawer. “Rather old school, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d need my phone for a wire transfer,” I say without thinking, then immediately kick myself. Telling him I don’t have my phone? What was I thinking?
The room is silent except for the scratch of his pen against the check. It’s cold here. Beyond the window, darkness spreads like an infinite, yawning abyss. While Mr. Havershire hasn’t done or said anything impolite, there’s a strange twitch at the back of my neck. It’s like I shouldn’t be here.
He writes slowly, swooping out his name letter by letter as if he can’t remember how to spell it. By the time he adds all the zeros, I’m ready to leave.
“Fifteen thousand. That’s a lot of money.” He stands and tears the check out of the book, fixing me with a strange look.
“It’s what we agreed.” I smile politely as my heart ticks up faintly. He’s looking at me like he knows me better than I know myself, and it’s uncomfortable.
“Yes. You perform for me and I pay you.” He walks around the desk and holds out his empty hand for me to shake, keeping the check just out of reach.
“Again, that’s what we agreed.” My smile loses all warmth, despite my efforts to keep it on my face. With the check out of reach, I have no choice but to lean for his hand. Shaking it, I reach for the check. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Havershire.”
Just as my fingertips brush the check, he curls his hand and pulls it away. “What if I’m unsatisfied with the performance?”
A chill runs down my spine. “You signed a contract with my agent,” I reply carefully. “Any problems should be taken up with her.”
“But she’s not here and you are. What if I want another performance?”
