Page 49 of Every Shattered Note
Every note feels alive, like it’s been waiting for air.People stop talking.Even the servers pause mid-step.It’s just his voice and the heartbeat it leaves behind.
I don’t move.I barely breathe.
When he finishes, the applause is loud but feels far away.He glances across the room—right at me—and smiles.It’s small, almost invisible, but it lands.
Something in me does, too.
I’m not sure what happens next.
But I know something already has.
ChapterTwenty-One
Alyssa
“What’s going on?”
My voice cuts through the low hum of post-wedding cleanup—silverware clinks, chairs scrape against marble, soft conversation from unfamiliar staff.People I didn’t hire are folding linens and dimming the lights, packing the night away like it never happened.
Rafe steps in close—closer than he should—and nods toward a woman I’ve never seen before.“Since we have to leave, I paid the hotel staff to finish tearing down.The events manager’ll handle everything the way you would.”
I blink, tightening my grip around the clipboard like it might still tether me to control.“That’s my job.”
“I know.”His voice dips, softer.“But you owe me, remember?In exchange for one favor, you’re going to let me take you away.”
That smile of his—the one that creeps in like he already knows I’m going to say yes—shouldn’t feel as familiar as it does.Shouldn’t unravel me like this.It shouldn’t feel like it’s been building since the second he stepped into the ballroom tonight.
“You brought your bag, yes?”
I hesitate, lips parted, but he cuts me off with the arch of one brow.“Don’t lie.You’re bad at it.”
I sigh.“Fine.I brought a small bag.Just in case.But I never said I’d go with you.”
“All I’m offering is that thing you want: Beach.Fruity drinks.No phones,” he says with a wink that punches right through my resolve.“Everything’s ready.We’re just waiting on you.”
I don’t get the chance to argue again because Jules strides through the ballroom doors, her heels hitting the floor in a rhythm that only she can make sound like a war drum.She’s got that clipped efficiency of a woman who’s been running three events at once and still manage to keep her lipstick intact.
“I thought you two would be long gone by now,” she says, eyes turning toward the exit.“Her bag’s already in your car.”
“Thank you for all your help,” Rafe replies smoothly, like he hasn’t just orchestrated a full-blown extraction under my nose.He shrugs, casual as ever.“We’re still negotiating the actual departure.”
“I have things to do,” I snap, the words instinctive, defensive.My fingers tighten around the clipboard I haven’t let go of, eyes darting around the room for any sign of unfinished business.
Why is Jules even here?
She had another event tonight.
Nothing adds up.
But Jules just waves me off like I’m being dramatic.“He handled everything,” she says, tilting her chin toward Rafe as if he’s some kind of miracle I’m supposed to accept without question.
“You don’t even know him,” I murmur, lowering my voice, eyes still on him.“You’re the one who said he could be a serial killer.”
“That was you in a chat with zero originality,” Rafe cuts in, his grin infuriatingly smug.“At least come up with something more interesting.I was hoping for international jewel thief.”
Jules holds out a small envelope.“Here.You’re going to need this.”
My passport.
