Page 135 of Devious Obsession
There’s a glass of red wine in front of my place setting, and a basket of bread between us. I reach for the bread, instantly ravenous, but Steele pushes my hand away. He tears off a piece and spreads butter across the surface with his knife. He tilts his head, then points to the seat next to him. It has a better view, arguably… and also puts me closer to him.
So I slip into it, and he makes quick work of putting my drink in front of me.
Then he holds out the bread to me.
I lean forward and bite into it. It’s warm and flavorful, and it bursts across my tongue. I groan and close my eyes, savoring it.
“That good, hmm?” He takes a bite of it.
I open my mouth when he bumps my lips with the bread again, and we finish the piece like that. I take a nervous sip of my wine, absolutely shy for no good reason.
He still makes me nervous.
“What were you and Jacob fighting about?”
Steele lifts his shoulder. “I wasn’t focused.”
“But you’re going to be focused tonight, right?”
“Of course.”
I fiddle with my fork. “Because I could not go—”
“Absolutely not.” He eyes me. “If you even think of not going, I’ll spend the whole game looking for you and wondering where you are. And then I’ll definitely be distracted.”
I crack a smile. “Okay, okay, just checking.”
Our food arrives. I hadn’t paid attention to what he’d ordered for me, which is why I’m surprised to findexactlywhat I would’ve wanted. An open-faced turkey sandwich drizzled with gravy and cranberry, with a side of roasted potatoes and veggies. He got the same for himself.
We dig in without further conversation, until both of us have taken the edge off our hunger.
“When is the audition?” Steele asks.
“Tuesday.”
So close, and yet it feels like each hour until then will drag. I’ve also reprinted my sheet music and started the laborious process of recreating every stupid notation on them. It’s not as good as it was, but it’ll do. And I still have time before the final performances in December.
“Where is it?”
“The orchestra shares a space with Crown Point Ballet, so it’s in that building.”
Something unexpected crosses his features.
Worry?
“What’s wrong?” I set down my fork.
He shakes his head. “That place just gives me a bad vibe. But your professor is going to be there. It’s not like your stalker is a professor.”
“Yeah, well.” I make a face. “He’s not my stalker, and he’s not my professor, he just happened to hear me play that one time. I got lucky that they were looking for someone. Anyway, if I land this gig, then it’ll help me put some money toward next semester. I might have to take it off…”
“You’re not taking the semester off.” He drops his silverware, staring intently at me.
“I will if I can’t scrounge money to pay for it, since your father cut me off—”
“He may have cut you off, but I haven’t.” He eyes me. “Don’t freak out.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why would I freak out?”
