Page 56 of Love Sick

“Fine?” She bursts into laughter. “Because apart from music, you had a budding social life? A circle of friends you could call at any hour and they’d drop anything for you? Or a girlfriend who tolerated being runner-up to your music?”

I clench my jaw because her comments are too close to home. “Fuck you.”

“Hate me all you want, but I see it when you play; I inspire you. Every artist needs tragedy to write something heartfelt. All that pain, all that anger, it pours out of you and into the art you create. The best artists are tortured souls who don’t need enemies because the biggest enemy to yourself, Dutch…is you. Which is why you won’t kill me…even though I know that you want to. Music is your life and I’ve seen what you’re capable of doing without it. Now that you hear it again, are you willing to lose it all?”

Standing, I slam my fists onto the table before leaning forward, ready to tear off Alanna’s head. “You don’t know me.”

The wine bottle spins on the table from the force of my blow and the sound morphs into music. Damn her to hell…

“Yes, I do. I know you better than you think. I bet right now, all you want to do is play.”

There’s no point fighting back because Alanna has somehow wormed her way into my head and the only way to get her out of it…is to play.

Charging from the room, I don’t bother with the crutches and limp toward the piano room. It’s lit with candles, but instead of setting a romantic mood, it’s a Gothic horror. I kick away the piano stool and begin punishing the keys with every shred of emotion in me.

It comes pouring out of me, like violent lava, needing to escape before it burns me alive. I am so fucking angry because Alanna is right—I’ve not played like this is so long, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to…be alive.

This is my drug, and like Misha, I am hooked.

The moment I play the last note, I charge over to where Alanna stands and grip her throat and walk her backward, slamming her up against the wall. I push her so hard, her glasses fall off her face. But the sight of her excited green eyes only summons my demons, and I want more.

“Fuck me,” she pants, running her knee over my stirring cock.

I quickly move out of her reach.

Her suggestion has me gripping her throat even tighter. “I’d rather cut off my dick than touch you.”

“You’re a…liar.” She gasps for air, but she doesn’t fight.

The pain—she likes it.

And so do I.

“We’re the same.”

“We arenothingalike.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she barely chokes out as her cheeks turn red. “Kill me, and what happens then? The music stops and you go back to boring little Luna?”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” I squeeze her neck so hard, I feel her throat spasm.

But she smiles.

“You want me. Your words might lie…but your body doesn’t.” Her eyes flicker as she’s on the cusp of passing out, but she’s not leaving this conversation without proving me wrong as she reaches down and rubs over my erect cock.

I slam her against the wall again and lower my face to hers so we’re inches apart. I don’t know what I want to say or do, but it doesn’t matter either way, because when I hear her voice, I realize it’s too late.

“Dutch?”

Snapping my head to the left, I see a sopping-wet Luna standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide…and it has nothing to do with the well-dressed man who has a gun pressed to her temple with his forearm pressed to her throat.

A winded laugh leaves Alanna, her throat spasming under my grip. “Hi…Daddy.”

Iam so fucking stupid.

I should have turned around when I had the chance, but seeing Dutch with Alanna changed the reason I was here. I came here for answers regarding Misha, but now I’m left with questions about Dutch and why he looked moments away from kissing Alanna.

I was so engrossed in watching him play piano and what seemed like him being inspired by Alanna that I didn’t notice a man sneak up behind me before he pressed his gun to my temple and ordered me inside. The moment he led me into the room, I wished he shot me because that would be less painful than watching the man you love with another woman—the woman who ruined your life.

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