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As fast as it appeared, those emotions retreat behind his fortified walls. My eyes widen as he sits on the edge of the bed. Beside me.
I try to ignore the lick of heat that touches my bare arm. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“I did.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Never said I’d listen. Besides…” His lips lift in a sardonic smirk. “I heard you were moaning about my absence from your life, so I decided to grace you with my presence.”
That snitch Sam.
“I’m honored,” I say with enough bite to signal a third world war.
Eli grins. “I know. Try not to fall head over tits.”
“I’ll manage just fine, considering your presence bores me to tears. Now, I need to practice. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He leans back on his palms, watching me with that dark gaze.
“Leave already. Shoo.”
“Do I unsettle you?”
“You repulse me.”
“I don’t see how that would interfere with your ability to play.”
You know what? Screw him.
I’m not going to allow him to ruin my newfound connection with the cello.
Grabbing the bow, I launch into a slow note and then decide to play something angry so he’ll get the memo.
The cello has always been my perfect outlet. Until I substituted it with an unhealthy addiction—alcohol and drugs.
Maybe the fact that I’ve been sober for some time is the reason my cello is speaking to me again.
I play the sixth movement of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 3 with every ounce of intensity in me. The entire time, I try my best to ignore Eli, but I’m dangerously aware of him.
His stare—or glare—nearly rips a hole in the back of my head. His warmth engulfs me, steals my breath, and charges the air with a destructive energy.
As I hit the last note, a slow clap comes from my side. My jaw nearly hits the ground as I stare back at my cruel, emotionless husband, who has not got one gentle bone in his ripped body.
I expect to find mockery, disregard, or his usual attempts to put me down, but all I find is a small smile and a bizarre glint in those dead eyes.
For a moment, I think he’s an imposter.
Also, why am I dazzled?
The thing in my chest better stop beating so loud or I’ll carve it out once and for all.
Eli opens his mouth and I harden my pride for the hit, but then his deep voice fills the space. “Impressive. I have to say, the anger makes it more memorable.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“I didn’t peg you as someone who can’t handle compliments. You seem to ask for them any occasion possible.”
“I didn’t peg you as someone who compliments people.”
