Page 27 of Legacy of Deception

“Obviously you won’t relent, so I give,” Marco said finally, shattering my reverie.

Did Marco feel similar to me given the complex nature of his family?

I wished I could glean who he was talking to, but whoever was on the phone was doing a stellar job of pissing him off. As if to punctuate what I assumed was the end of the call, Marco pounded on the keys of the piano.

Fearful that he’d catch me watching him, I only allowed myself another quick glance, but one glance wasn’t enough to study him and make a memory begging to be locked away. Never had I witnessed anything quite so beautiful, aside from watching diamonds and gemstones glisten in the right lighting.

The picture of concentration, he sat with his back straight and shoulders more tense than I suspected they should’ve been for tickling the ivories. He wore a ribbed white tank top that exposed the defined muscles at the top of his arms, the back of his neck, and those that came down his mid-back creating that V I’d always liked on a man. He was clearly pulling from his reservoir of inner strength as he shifted from pounding to what appeared an effortless strike of the keys. The sounds that followed were more fluid. His movements were seamless, as if he was somehow an extension of the piano. His wrists were floating, rising and falling with the dynamics of the dramatic music.

Forcing myself to retreat, to give him privacy, I quickly pulled back around the casing but misjudged the distance and knocked my head on the trim.

I didn’t expect Marco to hear the noise because, while we were alone for the evening, Doc having already gone home, the sounds of the piece Marco was playing on the piano filled the air. So, I vigorously rubbed my head to avoid getting a knot and closed my eyes to continue listening to him play.

All that ensued was silence, though.

“Brooklyn?” Marco called, rounding the corner and practically bumping into me.

Nodding like an idiot, I smiled and pulled my hand away from my head. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

The white gold pavé-set diamond cross necklace he wore caught my eye. It made me pause. Biting my bottom lip, I considered all the ways I could’ve answered him.

No, I am pregnant.

No, I am being forced into marriage.

No, I am obviously invading your space.

No, I am transfixed by you and your music.

I didn’t want to lie, but… “All good. Just walked into the wall.”

“You better watch out because I have quite a few, and they tend to sneak up on a person.” The judgment I expected to hear lacing his words was noticeably absent.

“Were you playing the piano?” I asked stupidly. Of course he had been playing. What else would those sounds have been? Not to mention, I had witnessed it with my own eyes. Which apparently hadn’t been working when I’d introduced myself to the wall with my noggin.

Nodding, he turned, heading toward the living room again. He ate up the length of the room and went to the sliding glass doors that were in front of the piano. Staring out at the skyline, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of the black sweatpants he wore. “My grandfather, Vito, used to love the piano. He always wanted one of us to learn to play Italian pieces for him, but I was the only one willing to try. I spent years studying. In the end, he only lived a year after I’d mastered it in high school. It was about the only thing I was serious about those days. Then, after his death, it didn’t feel quite as important, so like everything else, it became trivial. Now I play for me.”

Goose bumps pebbled my arms. I longed to respond, to say something appropriate, but felt unsure exactly what that was. Swallowing hard, I let my heart lead the conversation. “Play something for me?” I asked, physically drawn to the instrument that now felt like the heart of his home. I allowed my fingers, that had touched fire not long ago, to graze what looked to me like black tourmaline.

The piano was so polished, so shiny, that it was incredibly reminiscent to the crystal, but it was also more than that. Like in the obvious way, it anchored Marco’s energy in the same way the stone was grounding and the perfect companion for meditation.

I withdrew my hand as he strode over and sat down on the bench. “Any particular requests?” he asked, his eyes intent on the instrument.

Shaking my head, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the side of it, ready to absorb every expressive flourish he unlocked.

Wrists poised, his hands glided across the keys. He was in control, something I was noticing he preferred, and he commanded the chords.

The piece he chose to play sounded very dramatic. With heavy and fast movements, the sounds contrasted in a way that made them not only intense but powerful, like they dominated the space. All else seemed to pale in comparison. The art, the furniture, the view that otherwise would have been enough to fill the space, suddenly felt inadequate and very small.

On instinct, I gradually moved closer, down the side of the piano until I was practically hanging on the corner of the keys in the same way I was hanging on every strike of the keys he made with his fingers.

The beat of his pulse was steady, like a drum. Eyes meeting mine for the first time since he’d sat down, he made a seamless shift from those powerful, fast sounds to something that was far more delicate, like a soft breeze, before storm clouds rolled in and thunder roared in a beautiful crescendo. Brittle with anticipation for what would come next, I leaned forward, holding my breath.

Once the piece concluded, Marco stilled. The pulse I could’ve counted before kicked up, beating against the hollow of his throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve played for someone else,” he said, his voice low and just as in control as he’d been when he had been playing.

“Marco…I—” I swallowed hard, searching for the words. For some reason, they always felt just a tad out of reach whenever I was near him, regardless of the circumstance. There was something about this man that both infuriated me and intrigued me at the same time. Giving up, I slinked around the piano and came to sit on the bench beside him.