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For all the girls who think smart is sexy. (And who know the quiet ones are the freakiest).
Kai Young. Esteemed member of the Valhalla Club’s managing committee, heir to a multibillion-dollar media empire, and owner of an uncanny ability to show up in the middle of my most embarrassing conversations every time, Kai Young.
“I’m translating the book into Latin.” He flipped the page and scribbled another sentence without looking up or touching his drink.
“Why?”
“It’s rel...
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I blinked, certain I’d heard him wrong. “You think translating a five-hundred-page novel into...
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“Yes. If I wanted a mental challenge, I’d translate an economics textbook. Translating fiction i...
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I knew rich people indulged in strange hobbies, but at least they were usually fun eccentricities like throwing lavish weddings for their pets or bathing in champagne. Kai’s hobby was just boring.
“A strawberry gin and tonic. On me.”
“You look like you could use the pick-me-up.”
He responded with a questioning arch of his brow.
“You’re off schedule,” I explained. “You’d never go off schedule unle...
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The arch smoothed, replaced with a tiny crinkle at the corners of his eyes. My heartbeat faltered at the unexpectedly endearing sight...
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“I wasn’t aware you paid so much attention t...
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“I don’t make a point of it,”
“You’ve been coming to the bar every week since I started working here, but you’ve never showed up on a Monday. I’m simply observant.”
“Rest assured, you’re not my type, so you don’t have to worry abou...
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“Good to know.”
“Thank you. I have a soft spot for strawberry gin and tonics.”
This time, my heartbeat didn’t so much falter as stop altogether, if only for a split second. Sof...
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Great. Now my inner voices were arguing with each other. I didn’t even know I had more than one inner voice. If that wasn’t a sign I needed sleep and not another night agonizing over my manuscript, nothing was.
Dark gold hair, navy eyes, the bone structure of a Calvin Klein model, and the warmth of the iceberg from Titanic. Dominic Davenport, the reigning king of Wall Street.
I typically avoided sweet drinks; the harsh burn and subdued amber of scotch was much more to my taste. But like I said, I had a soft spot for this particular flavor.
I remembered all our interactions in vivid detail, whether I wanted to or not. She’d touched down in my life like a tornado, gotten my drink wrong during her first shift at Valhalla, and hadn’t left my thoughts since. It was aggravating.
Isabella was bold, impulsive, and everything I typically avoided in an acquaintance. I valued propriety; she had none, as her apparent fetish for discussing sex in the most inappropriate of locations indicated. Still, there was something about her that drew me in like a siren calling to a sailor. Destructive, certainly, but so beautiful it would almost be worth it. Almost.
I wasn’t used to people offering me things without expecting something in return.
Despite all that, she’d accomplished the impossible. She’d taken pain and turned it into hope.
Logic told me I shouldn’t engage with Isabella any more than necessary. It was inappropriate, considering her employment and my role at the club. I also had the unsettling sense that she was dangerous—not physically, but in some other way I couldn’t pinpoint.
“You played well. Better than most pianists who attempt the ‘Hammerklavier.’”
“I sense a but at the end of that sentence.”
“But you were too aggressive at the start of the second theme. It’s supposed to be lighter, more understated.” It wasn’t an in...
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“You think you can do...
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“May I?” I nodded at the bench.
“Hmm.” Isabella sounded unimpressed. “Mine was better.”
“Pardon me?”
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “You’re a good piano player, but you’re...
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“I’m lacking something,”
In my thirty-two years on earth, no one had ever told me I was lacking something. The worst part was, upon examination, she was right.
My jaw tightened. I was used to being the best, and the realization that I wasn’t, at least not at this particular song, rankled.
“What, exactly, do you think I’m lacking?”
Mental note: Substitute piano practice for tennis with Dominic until I fix this problem.
“The fact you don’t know is part of the problem.” She stepped toward the door. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Wait.” I stood and grabbed her arm without thinking.
I was a proponent of science; I didn’t believe in anything that defied the laws of physics, but I could’ve sworn time physically slowed, like each second was encased in molasses.
“You should try to loosen up a bit. It might help with your piano playing.”
For the second time that night, words deserted me.
Meanwhile, I was proud of myself for rolling out of bed before nine.
Of course he slept well; he didn’t have to worry about annoying siblings or failing at life.
“I don’t think I want to be an author; I do want to be an author,” I said. “I’m just exploring the story.”
Books have been my escape for years,
